


My Lioness

by MelpomeneTears



Series: Relationships In Pieces [6]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crush, Death, Denial, F/M, Fantasizing, Fighting, Friendship, Inappropriate Flirting, Jealousy, Masturbation, Mercy Killing, New Beginning, Non-Graphic Violence, Overt Sexuality, Scars, Siblings, Survivor Guilt, Tattoos, vengeance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 86
Words: 648,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelpomeneTears/pseuds/MelpomeneTears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hawke family was used to life throwing hardship their way.  Facing a Darkspawn army, fighting for life and freedom, meeting dangerous witches, it was all just life as usual.  Sekhmet would fight to protect them even with her last breath.  She had made a promise to Papa and she intended on keeping it, it was the least she could do after what she had done.</p><p>Will Sekhmet and Anders save each other, or destroy each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Endings and Beginnings

Daggers itching in her palms she looked up at Carver. “Are you ready?”

More than a head taller than her, his raven hair the night to her stark white day , he sneered down at her, “As ready as you are.”

Her face softened, their relationship was filled with too much cruelty. Papa would be so disappointed in them both. She gave Carver a bit of a smile, “Don’t die.”

The rigid lines of his body, heavily muscled from wielding his greatsword, relaxed a little and he laughed a soft sound still tinged with a bit of bitterness but without its usual venom, “Not today.” 

She couldn’t read his crystalline blue eyes even though they were the mirror of her own, never could, but she hoped that he knew she loved him, and hoped that he loved her too even if they could never admit it. His anger at her always kept them at an arm’s length from each other, even now as they prepared to fight a nightmare back into the depths of the earth.

She tried to think of a time when Carver wasn’t so angry at her, at the world in general, and was left at a loss. She pushed aside the dark morass of her thoughts; there were more important things to be paying attention to right now. 

She glanced again at Carver as he held his heavy sword, the thing probably weighed as much as she did. Lifting it from his broad shoulder he held it at the ready as rain started to fall around them. The battlefield, over shadowed by the ancient bones of a ruin long forgotten, reeked of fear and wet dog. The night was going to be long and cold and miserable. Icy droplets ate the already waning light leaving the army in a murky twilight as the monsters advanced, a dark wave cresting between the trees of the Wilds.

It was only a few minutes before the orange glow of the enemies’ torches lit up the sky ahead of them, a few at first then growing rapidly until there was a vast ocean of torch light rolling back across the far side of the field and flickering from the depths of the Wilds. Sekhmet gasped, “Sweet Maker, there’s a whole…a…”

“Horde?” Carver helpfully supplied, “We’re in trouble now, where did your wit go dear sister?” It was only a jest, and she was relieved he had chosen not to be cruel. In the face of battle, death, and war they seemed to find an uneasy peace.

She wished she could be surprised that it would take such a drastic situation to quell the ever present animosity her brother held towards her. But she wasn’t, she had committed an unspeakable crime and his anger, his righteous anger was part of her penance. So, pushing aside the lengths it took to get there she just enjoyed the simple jest, with a grin on her face she sparred back, “The same place as your humility I’d wager.” 

The formidable tree that was her brother, taller than their parents and broad as any battle-hardened, lifelong soldier, flashed her a smile back. It was a rare enough occurrence that she took a moment to treasure it. Carver could be dour and bitter, his anger could burn like acid but he could be charming and sweet when he wanted, funny even. Closing her eyes for a moment she gave her head a light shake, the sea of light trudging ever forward and her attention was needed back on the battlefield instead of buried under years of regret.

The soldiers around the two of them began shifting nervously belying their inexperience, but she and Carver remained still. Long years of training and fighting together kept them calm despite the impending battle, perhaps even because of it. And monsters were nothing new to the two of them; these ones just looked as monstrous on the outside as they were on the inside.

As the twisted black creatures marched towards them, it was the smell that got to her in the end. Not the sight of so many torches, or even the ghastly faces she saw when the enemy was finally upon them. It was the smell of rot and corruption and death that blanketed over the earth ahead of the Darkspawn that shook her. She had experienced many horrifying things in her years but that smell, the pervasiveness of it, would haunt her all her life.

She and Carver slogged through the monsters cutting a large swath as those less experienced fell around them, their shrill screams all but lost in the cacophony of battle. Sekhmet kept glancing at the Tower of Ishal in the distance waiting for the signal fire to be lit atop it. Loghain would bring in his men from the flank and they would cut down these monsters once and for all. And she could return home. A victory here would give her something that Mother and Bethany could be proud of, something worthwhile.

Carver’s young face, Maker he was so terribly young but already battle scarred, was twisted into a snarl as his greatsword chopped through the Darkspawn with ease flickering silver in the dull light and dripping black ichor in thick rivulets. They were both covered in gore, hearts racing and fatigue pulling at them but as long as he could lift that monstrosity of a sword she would keep swinging her daggers. It seemed to stretch on forever, an endless parade of nightmare creatures, the stench of the beasts and the screams of their fallen brethren interspersed with the enraged cries of the Darkspawn.

“Light damn you, light.” She gritted out between her teeth as she took down another shrieking monstrosity, the blades tied to its forearms clearly poisoned and its cries so shrill her ears rang with the sound of it. A quick glance around her made her heart lurch in her chest, she and Carver were nearly alone on their part of the field now, just the two of them and a still rising tide of Darkspawn. 

The two of them and Tyr, her coal black Mabari, meant as a gift for Carver to match his raven hair, but who had chosen her instead, another nail in the coffin that housed her relationship with her brother. And he was as fearsome as any fighter she had ever seen, man or beast, and fighting with him by her side was as familiar as fighting with her brother there. 

It wasn’t arrogance, but experience that told her they were three of the best fighters in Ferelden. The proof of it lay around the three of them, dying or dead already. The knowledge was at least a little comfort to her, she wanted to believe they could survive, wanted to believe they could hold out until the reinforcements finally came. 

Later it would strike her how well she and Carver worked in concert. In battle, if nowhere else, the two of them got along beautifully. When they fought together, side by side it was like dancing, like a beautifully choreographed dance of death and dismemberment.

********

Sekhmet’s eyes flew open and as she took in her surroundings she groaned. Stuck, in the hold of the ship like rats cowering in the dark, it rankled at Sekhmet Hawke, but many things did as of late. There was nothing in the stinking hole to distract her and keep her mind off what they had just come from. She glanced at those huddled closest to her.

Her mother was curled on the floor, she lay still as if sleeping but Sekhmet knew she was weeping silently for Carver. Her silver grey hair was still brushed and tied back neatly even with them sitting in the bowels of this foul ship. The cloth of her clothing was that of a peasant but the stitching was as fine as any noble woman’s, hours of toil from her mother’s own hands. Sekhmet knew her mother’s amber eyes would be red rimmed from crying. 

Let her mother cry tears enough for the both of them, she couldn’t bring herself to weep for her younger brother, she was too angry at him and herself for not saving him. Again, when push came to shove she was found wanting. No, it was his own stubbornness, his hotheaded nature that got him killed. What had he been thinking charging an ogre alone?

She sighed quietly to herself taking a slow deep breath and petting Tyr a bit to calm herself, there was nothing here to rage against. At length she looked to Bethany. Sweet Bethany, her little sister and Carver’s twin, the mage child she had spent her life protecting, the girl was still and silent, staring into the darkness. 

Sadness clung heavily to her and Sekhmet wished she could ease it. For all of her sister’s firepower there was something delicate, something fragile about her, Sekhmet hoped that Carver’s death didn’t leave her sister forever scarred. She nudged Tyr a little and when the dog lifted its head to gaze at her she subtly canted her head towards Bethany. He stood and shuffled over to Bethany laying his head in her lap and licking her hand. Bethany didn’t quite smile, but she seemed a little lighter at least.

Aveline, the ginger haired warrior woman they had run across on the way out of Lothering, sat a little away from the other three women staring up through the grate at the sky. She hadn’t said anything to any of them since she had been forced to end her husband’s life to spare him a slow painful death from the corruption in his blood. He had been weak and already dying when Aveline had put her dagger through his heart, but Sekhmet couldn’t imagine it had been easy. 

Having that burden hanging over your head, that you’re responsible for someone’s death, someone you love, it’s eats at you, can blind you and drown you if you let it. But Aveline seemed like a strong woman, and Sekhmet had to respect her for having the strength to do it in the first place. Bethany and Mother had both tried speaking with her, but the warrior woman had walled herself off. Sekhmet left her alone; Aveline would speak when she was ready.

She pushed to her feet and stretched wishing she could take her boots and socks off, could stretch her feet out and to roam around barefoot but she didn’t dare between the rough boards beneath her feet and the inevitable vomit from seasick passengers. Sekhmet didn’t like being confined in anyway, didn’t like being caged. It was why she had left Lothering finally , there was nothing left for her to do at home, Carver had made it clear they didn’t need her anymore and she had felt like she was dying for years cooped up in the same house in the same town for all those years.

Right now what she really needed was something to keep her mind busy. Idle she had too much time to brood, too much time to think about Loghain, the traitor who had betrayed the King and all his army leaving them to die at Ostagar. And time to remember how she, Carver and Tyr had only narrowly escaped that bloody, carnage strewn field with their lives and only returned to their home mere moments ahead of the Darkspawn horde. 

They had dragged Bethany and Mother from home without much chance to grab anything at all. All they had owned and loved would be tainted, corrupted and taken by the Darkspawn now. Never could she have imagined that she would be so grateful her whole life fit into a pack. Her gaze wandered again to the large odd shaped and lumpy bag that lie on the floor beside her mother. 

The bag had belonged to Papa and Mother had not opened it since his death as far as Sekhmet knew. It had been the only thing her mother refused to leave without. So Carver had angrily grabbed it slinging it over his shoulder as he ushered Mother from their small house. And when Carver had died Sekhmet picked up the bag, nearly as long as she was tall, and carried it the rest of the way to Gwaren. 

It was a heavy burden, filled with things she couldn’t imagine and a few she could, stained with the blood of the only two men she had ever loved and chained to her aching heart. No wonder Mother couldn’t leave it behind, couldn’t even speak of it as yet. Her mother made them promises to show them what lay inside the bag when they were settled safely in Kirkwall with her family. 

Angry again, because anger was better was easier than the pain she felt, Sekhmet gritted her teeth. Kirkwall, it was such a bad idea. Ferelden had been bad enough with its Templars, but if the rumors were to be believed Kirkwall was crawling with them and practically run by them as well. How was she supposed to keep Bethany safe there of all places?

Sitting back down she pulled her battered pack in front of her. Her life had been reduced to just this bag, this small sack of leather and cloth she carried over her shoulders, but that had been a year ago and had nothing to do with the Darkspawn. The only monsters Sekhmet had been fighting for the last year had been her own. Impatiently, she pushed her hair back out of her face willfully ignoring any thoughts that tried to break through and slipped her hand into the soft darkness and found what she was looking for near the bottom. 

Her thin calloused fingers traced lightly over the intricately carved wood of the box. _“Papa, help me keep them safe.”_ She closed her eyes, the thought running through her mind over and over. Tracing the familiar lines and repeating the well known mantra calmed her somewhat; it stilled her mind and soothed her anger. There were no enemies here to rail against, other than herself; they had left them behind in Ferelden.

Heart soothed at least a little for now she was pulling her hand from her pack when her fingers brushed against a fine chain. Little tingles shot across her hand as she touched the amulet. The cost of her family’s safety was this amulet and its safe delivery. She thought briefly about not bothering to deliver it, there was something not quite right about the witch who had helped them, even the few Chasind they come across on their way through the Wilds had seemed to fear the statuesque white haired woman. Sekhmet had never known a Chasind to show fear before. 

Aveline had called the woman a Witch of the Wilds. Everyone knew stories about Flemeth the Witch of the Wilds. A woman cloaked in mystery who supposedly stole your daughters and had lived for centuries. She had flown across the wasteland that the Wilds had become in the wake of the Darkspawn as a great maroon, fire breathing dragon. The Darkspawn closing in on Sekhmet and those who traveled with her had been charred to ash, most likely saving their lives.

They had all been surprised when she landed near them a tall, graceful and formidable looking woman. If only she had appeared a few minutes earlier, Carver might have been saved. But it had been Sekhmet taking down the ogre that killed her brother that had drawn the witch’s attention. Even as a woman the others stayed back from the witch.

Not that she had scared Sekhmet; it had been years since magic had scared her. She hadn’t known whether to be angry with the woman for waiting until her brother had been slain before she had swooped to their rescue or grateful that the mysterious woman saved the rest of them. So she had fallen back on her smart mouth. The same mouth that landed her in trouble more often than not, thankfully it amused the witch and she had agreed to help them travel to Gwaren to book passage to Kirkwall.

And so they had rolled across the blackened and tainted land. The witch’s power was like nothing Sekhmet had ever seen, she practically vibrated with it, her entire body lit up with a pale yellow light with each spell, shimmering along her skin. And she seemed to be having a great time, peals of raucous laughter reverberated off the rocks around them as she destroyed the Darkspawn like they were pieces of kindling. 

No, fear hadn’t entered into Sekhmet’s mind, whether because she was just too busy killing Darkspawn and protecting what was left of her family or because fear had become an alien emotion to her she didn’t know. But, the shimmering power in the amulet made her uneasy, made her want it gone as soon as possible. It was obviously a powerful object and instead of it falling into the wrong hands she would deliver it to the Dalish elves as asked. 

The Dalish were a proud people, some thought they were a fairytale so few people saw them. Living so close to the Wilds Sekhmet had spotted them in their land ships a few times though she had never actually met one. There were many stories of the Dalish, mostly told by city elves and servants, half of which she doubted were true. But it was easy to believe that they had magic and had been using it for centuries without the stranglehold of the Chantry. So she would deliver the strange pulsating amulet as asked. Surely they would know what to do with the amulet and she didn’t want to be still holding it if the witch were to come look for it.

********

Sekhmet hated Kirkwall the moment she set foot in it; it reeked of fear, destitution and repression. The Ferelden refugees milled about disheartened and disenfranchised, denied entry to the city. That didn’t stop the ships from offloading their passengers at a place called the Gallows, a stark place that offered little comfort and no hope. Having quickly learned it had been a slave prison but had been turned into a Circle to house the mages of Kirkwall, anger surged through her at the thought of mages kept in a literal prison.

She could feel her teeth on edge as she looked around at the throngs of people waiting to get in, their faces showed their despair. It was easy to tell which ones had actually seen something of the Blight, they looked haunted, their eyes like hollow pits, shuffling around listlessly. They kept to themselves, quiet and looking nearly lifeless. 

Though the city was supposedly barring any new refugees from entering it seemed you could still get into the city if you had gold enough to pay the necessary bribes. Something most of the poor wretches would never be able to do having left their homes with only what they could carry and even selling most of that in order to book passage to Kirkwall. And Sekhmet’s family was no different, she didn’t know what was in her father’s bag but she doubted anything in it would be worth enough to get one of them within the city walls let alone all of them. And she herself rarely carried more than a few silvers.

So Sekhmet bided her time, waiting as patiently as she could for her uncle to show up. Her mother assured them that Gamlen would fix everything. Her family, the Amells, were nobility in Kirkwall after all so as soon as he came to claim them they would be allowed to enter the city and everything would be set to rights. Though what Sekhmet was going to do in a noble’s household she had no idea.

Three days later when their uncle showed up Sekhmet cursed their luck. The grey and washed out man was dressed in rags, not even as nice as their own clothing after weeks at sea. His eyes were dull and his nose red, a long time drinker to be sure. Mother didn’t seem to notice, she just spilled her heart to him and he seemed reluctant, to say the least, to even hear her out. But eventually the truth came out.

He had squandered the family fortune after his parents’ deaths and didn’t have the gold to buy them passage into the city. But apparently he had fallen low enough to have dealings with suspect people who might be willing to buy their way into the city, for a price. Ah yes, there is always a price.

Sekhmet felt Bethany’s hand on her shoulder and kept her mouth shut, if only to appease her sister. Bethany had been through enough already. So Sekhmet agreed to speak with the smuggler and the mercenary that Gamlen had suggested. Either of them were willing to pay the bribes for the group to get into the city, and Sekhmet was worried she knew all too well why.

Her fears were confirmed when they went to speak with the elvin smuggler, Athenril, a beautiful ash blonde woman who immediately caught Sekhmet’s attention with her purple tattoos. Even so, all she could really focus on was that their dear old uncle Gamlen had told Athenril and her cohorts about Bethany being an apostate; it was why they were willing to pay the exorbitant bribes. Said bribes to be paid, of course, in exchange for Sekhmet and Bethany working for Athenril for an entire year essentially turning the sisters, as well as Aveline into indentured servants. 

Kirkwall was turning out to be a smashing success so far. Even so, Sekhmet grudgingly agreed, only because Bethany did not want to force Mother to another city. Hopefully, the year would pass quickly and they could get on with their lives. And at least Athenril promised Bethany protection from the Templars.

********

The year passed in a blur of drudgery where Sekhmet used her skills and hid Bethany’s as best as she could. Aveline didn’t stay with them for very long; she moved on to become a city guard. Life as a smuggler didn’t suit her and Athenril could have cared less, she had what she wanted, a mage on the payroll. Sekhmet often told Bethany that she was glad to have a reason to be prowling around at night, to not be cooped up in the tiny house with Mother’s disappointment and Gamlen’s bitterness.

As the year came to a close Athenril proved reluctant to let her favorite team go, the Hawke sisters had earned a reputation for getting jobs done right. Even just their name was enough to diffuse situations in some cases and that was not something that Athenril wanted to give up. And so there were fights where Athenril tried to bully Sekhmet into taking another job for her and Sekhmet would mostly just laugh.

Everytime they thought Athenril was done and would be leaving the two of them alone she would pop back into their lives again. After one argument where Athenril had literally dragged Sekhmet into an alley to speak with her, Sekhmet sent Bethany home and told her she would handle Athenril. Bethany never knew what happened, but Athenril didn’t try to press them into working for her again.

And though they were free of their servitude to Athenril, now Bethany had no protection besides Sekhmet. And though she loved and trusted her sister, in a town like Kirkwall a woman like Bethany needed all the protection she could find. And money could buy that protection, could give her something to shield herself with.

While her sister enjoyed telling stories and making jokes Bethany was listening. She hated taverns, wasn’t a big fan of drinking, but people talked when they drank. So she listened to all of the slurred confessions and whispered rumors. One snagged her attention, an opportunity that could just make them rich. It could bring them enough money to afford her some protection. An expedition into the Deep Roads, supposedly to a previously unexplored area and the rumor was they were looking for some protection to take along with them. 

She figured with their experiences in Ferelden fighting Darkspawn at Ostagar and Lothering the organizer would welcome a mage and an experienced rogue, especially since Bethany had been hearing the gossip for months about her sister and her immaculate record with Athenril.

She and Sekhmet headed off to Hightown to speak with the dwarf funding up the Deep Roads trek. Bartrand was foul tempered with sallow skin and a permanent sneer who turned them down flat without even hearing them out fully. He wrote them off as just two more refugees stuck in Lowtown looking for a quick way out. 

Bethany felt utterly defeated; she was tired of living in fear all the time. All her life it had been the same story, her family shielded her from the Chantry’s ever present eyes. Her family took care of any Templar who caught wind of her being an apostate. She got to watch year after year as Papa’s body became more scarred from protecting her. Then it was Sekhmet and finally even her twin bore the scars of protecting her. 

It was enough, something had to change. But, here they were again, back to the same old story. Without Athenril’s protection the Templars could find them at any time. And then she would have to watch her sister injured and scarred again because of her. Or worse, they would manage to kill Sekhmet this time and she would be dragged off to live in that prison they called a Circle. 

Or maybe it would be worse, maybe the Templars would just kill them both and leave her mother all alone in that crappy little shack with her bastard of an uncle. She shuddered at the thought. And Sekhmet’s usual humor wasn’t helping any. She swore her sister couldn’t take anything seriously. 

She was ready to lose it when a cutpurse stole the few precious coins Sekhmet carried. A brief vision of setting him on fire right there in the middle of the Dwarven Merchant’s guild flitted through her mind. She pushed the thought aside; Sekhmet didn’t need Bethany adding to her burdens. As it turned out, their luck was about to change, an oddly cheerful dwarf got the coin purse back for them. Pulling out a hulking monstrosity of a crossbow laden with gold he used a bolt to pin the would-be thief to a wall.

Bethany watched him warily as he strolled up to her and her sister twirling the bolt that had so recently pinned the thief. Tossing their coin purse back to Sekhmet he introduced himself as Varric Tethras, brother of the dwarf heading up the Deep Roads expedition. Varric was a smooth talker, but Bethany liked him anyways. He didn’t seem oily like some men who were gifted with words. And he was looking to form a partnership with Sekhmet, seemingly not even interested in Bethany though he knew she was a mage.

Sekhmet finally agreed to give it a try after some gentle prodding by both her and Varric. The dwarf even offered to help them to find jobs around Kirkwall to make the coin needed for their share of the expedition. She wondered just how bored he had to be if he was willing to do a bunch of drudgery work just to make a little coin. He certainly didn’t look like he needed the money.

His leather duster was obviously finely crafted and she couldn’t even imagine how many hours of labor went into the fine golden embroidery that decorated a large portion of his tunic. And that crossbow, the wood looked like nothing she had ever seen, but it was all the inlaid gold on the thing that made it stand out. It must have weighed a ton, and didn’t seem very practical.

He caught her staring at him and barely batted an eye, but she felt herself blush nonetheless. Men were still foreign territory to her, not that she hadn’t had crushes before. It had never gone beyond that though; it was too dangerous considering what she was. It was a secret that felt too big, she had never been able to tell anyone herself. If and when others found out it was either because they learned it from someone in her family, or because she had been forced to use her magic. 

Varric seemed nice enough, a jovial man with a silver tongue and he already knew her secret, but something about him made her feel that even if she had been interested, it wouldn’t be welcome. No, not the romantic type, but he seemed a decent man. It might be nice to have a friend she didn’t have to hide the truth from. 

Once Sekhmet’s decision was made Varric was clearly ready to leave. Bethany could almost see the gears working in the man’s head as he started no doubt making plans for their future together. With a bright eyed rakish smile he invited them both to speak with him at the Hanged Man tavern later, or any time they needed him as that was where he stayed. Dropping a wink to Bethany he turned and disappeared back into the crowd at the Hightown market.

Feeling a bit better she followed Sekhmet as she made her way back to Lowtown. They ran into a few acquaintances along the way, Bethany hanging back as Sekhmet brokered deals Bethany wasn’t supposed to know about. Although, seeing Elegant, or Lady Elegant as it turned out, was rather nice. If they were going to be doing any jobs that were dangerous it was nice to know they could still pick up potions from her. Keeping Sekhmet still enough for her to make potions, let alone teach Bethany was absurdly hard, so now at least they had a reliable supplier.

Bethany tried not to look at all the things for sale at the Lowtown Market, it just depressed her bringing home the point of how truly broke her family was. Sekhmet didn’t share her opinion though and Bethany found herself in front of the weapons merchant as her big sister tried to explain the pros and cons of each of the weapons on display. 

“Why does it matter?” She hissed at Sekhmet irritated that she was listening to this prattle yet again. 

Sekhmet sighed a frustrated sound of her own. “It wouldn’t hurt you to learn how to fight.”

“I know how to fight.” The conversation was almost second nature now; they had been having it almost weekly for a year. 

“Humor me Beth, please? I worry about you. Even you have your limits. Let me buy you something and teach you how to use it.” 

She could see Sekhmet was genuinely worried. “You don’t need to buy me anything, just give me one of your old weapons, its fine. I’ll try to learn, but I can’t promise anything.”

“It’s your first weapon; it should be something special, memorable.” Sekhmet leaned over looking at the weapons before scowling. Standing back up she looked at the man standing in the booth. “Come on Nico, you know what I want to see.”

“Show me the coin first, Hawke.”

Bethany was sure that would be the end of it. They clearly didn’t have enough coin to get whatever it was Sekhmet had in mind. She winced when Sekhmet smiled, the big one, like a large predator, the smile spoke volumes. It said whoever was on the receiving end of it was in for a world of trouble and it almost never ended well. 

“I don’t need the coin, Nico. I’ve got a stack of IOUs from Wicked Grace with your name on them. So why don’t you show me what I want, let my kid sister pick the one she wants and we’ll call it even. Sound like a deal?” 

Nico must have seen the smile before because he reached under the table and pulled out a beautiful wooden box. “Get closer; I don’t need the riff raff around here seeing these.” Slowly, he opened the box, it was lined in a deep green velvet and nestled inside of it were six beautiful daggers.

“Wow, what is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Bethany had never been interested in weapons before but the daggers were truly breathtaking.

“And you likely never will again. You know you’re killing me here Hawke don’t you? These are supposed to be for my retirement.” Nico was trying not to scowl and failing miserably.

“Relax, you just hold on to these beauties for me and I’ll either get the coin to buy them or I’ll collect some more IOUs from you. Go on Beth, try touching one of the handles.”

Hesitantly, she reached out and gently touched the intricately carved blade. The blade, a silvery olive color, was instantly covered in ice. Bethany pulled her hand away, jumping back a little in surprise. She reached out to touch another one and it erupted in flame. A giggle bubbled out of her unbidden, she couldn’t help herself they were so beautiful, so different and amazing.

Her sister was beaming, clearly pleased with herself that she had finally found a weapon Bethany liked. She began speaking quickly, “The blades are ironbark, very strong, very light. The handles are carved Halla horn. And each dagger has a gem matching it to the magic it’s imbued with. Sapphire for ice, diamond for lightning, ruby for fire, amethyst for spirit, emerald for nature and the pearl is telekinetic. Pick one, any one you want.”

Only Sekhmet could have found a weapon pretty enough to entice her. As jaded as her big sister could be she always went the extra mile for her and Mother. And though there was nothing that could fill the hole left by her twin’s death Sekhmet did her best and Bethany loved her for it. The blade wasn’t difficult to pick. 

There was one spell she always felt she was weak with, it never felt strong enough or far reaching enough. Maybe the dagger would bring her a little luck. She picked up the dagger and ran her finger lightly over the diamond at the bottom of the hilt as lightning licked up along the blade. Her sister was right; it was very light, almost like driftwood. 

She slipped it into her pocket as Nico closed the case and put it away. Bethany was glad that Sekhmet seemed satisfied and left the miserable looking Nico to watch them walk away. The day really had turned around, a new partnership, possibly a new friend, a beautiful gift and she had been able to make her sister happy as well if the smile on her face was anything to judge by.

“I’ll make you a sheath for it. Do you want a belt with it or do you just want it set up so you can add it to your own belts?” Sekhmet was still beaming at her.

“I’ll have to think about it.” She noticed Sekhmet was headed over to the armorer and decided to steer her clear. There were things they needed to do today.

“Sis, we should get to the Hanged Man, I think Varric’s waiting for us.”

She paused like she was going to argue but seemed to change her mind turning and heading to the tavern. Varric was set up in a huge suite in the back part of the tavern; it was nearly as large as Gamlen’s entire house. He greeted them warmly and bought them each a drink before sitting down with them.

You would have never known they had only met a couple hours earlier from the way Varric chatted amiably with them and laughed at Sekhmet’s jokes, even the bad ones and honestly, most of them were bad. But she felt comfortable with him, even inside the tavern. Something about him made her feel safe and relaxed. 

Eventually, he steered the conversation to the business at hand. Varric shared some more bad news with them both, apparently not only did they need 50 sovereigns, a sum that seemed impossible, but they also needed to find an entrance to the Deep Roads before they left. Bethany felt a bit overwhelmed but Sekhmet took the news in stride, just assuming they could do it. For once Bethany was thankful for Sekhmet’s often ill timed humor, it cheered her a little.

True to his word, Varric was a resourceful man and had heard rumors that there was a former Ferelden Grey Warden now living in Kirkwall. Which surprised Bethany, she only knew of two Ferelden Wardens who had survived the Blight and they were both quite famous. She was sure everyone in the city would be aware if either one of them were there. Varric told them the Grey Wardens often went into the Deep Roads and he thought this Warden might know of an entrance. So off the three of them went to speak with a shopkeeper named Lirene who was known to help Ferelden refugees to see if she could help them find this supposed Warden.

Lirene was hesitant to speak with them about the Warden at first, seemed the man was a mage and a healer who tended to the refugees for free. But Sekhmet, as was her nature, gave the woman a smile and cracked one of her charming little jokes.

“Tell me he has killer eyes and a great smile and I’ll marry him on the spot.” 

Bethany was standing behind her sister but she could picture the smirk on her face. She also happened to agree with Sekhmet. This healer sounded amazing, a mage like herself who was selflessly helping the refugees even though it put him into danger. 

Her imagination ran away with her, picturing scenarios as to why he had left Ferelden. Maybe he knew some of the refugees and had come at their plea. Maybe he had been sent on a goodwill mission. Or maybe he was on leave from the Wardens and chose to spend his time helping his fellow countrymen who had been forced from their homes.

The shopkeeper laughed, and blushed just a little before responding, and Bethany almost missed it lost as she was in her own thoughts. “As a matter of fact he has the eyes, but I’ve never seen him smile.”

From there it was just a few well worded queries before they knew where to find this healer and Grey Warden. Varric seemed pleased with Sekhmet; perhaps it was a relief that he wouldn’t need to do all the talking all the time. Her sister was more than a little gifted in that area, that was when she controlled herself and didn’t let her mouth run away from her. 

As they left she was more than a little surprised when the three of them were accosted outside of Lirene’s shop by other Ferelden refugees wanting to protect the healer, who Lirene had called Anders. Sekhmet looked to Bethany, and trying not to roll her eyes at Sekhmet’s assumption that she would keep the peace, Bethany calmed the group down by letting them know that she and Sekhmet were both Ferelden and just wanted to avoid the Templars. One of these days relying on sweet innocent Bethany to diffuse a situation wasn’t going to be an option, but for today it still worked.

The men tripped all over themselves apologizing before the one who seemed to be in charge bowed, “Maker Bless the reign of King Maric the Savior.”

Bethany and Sekhmet watched them go, Varric standing a little off to the side before Sekhmet turned to her with a smile. “Did you see that, refugees sticking up for an apostate? Maybe Kirkwall’s not as bad as I first thought, or,” she drawled out the word, her half smile lighting up her face, “maybe I really will marry this mage on the spot if he warrants loyalty like that from Fereldens.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, it was safer if her sister didn’t know she was starting to fancy this strange mage she had never met. If Sekhmet caught on she would never live it down. “Enough Sekhmet, let’s go find this boy wonder of yours.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Alright, but I have to pick up something first .”


	2. Welcome To The Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hawke sisters meet the Healer.

Sekhmet was trying desperately not to lose her temper. It was hot and sticky in Darktown and the smell was awful and indescribably…well, awful. The last thirty minutes had been a nonstop tirade from her younger sister about her spending habits. Frankly, as far as she was concerned Bethany had no right complaining about anything. She didn’t understand about close combat or the need for protection. If Sekhmet could just throw up a magical barrier to protect herself in a fight she might wear armor that she was half falling out of the top of too, of course she would have to have something closer to breasts than she currently had to even attempt such a feat. 

Finally, feeling she had been more than patient in listening to her sister she stopped and turned to Bethany, “I get it, you’re upset.”

“If you keep spending money like that we’ll never be able to buy our way into the expedition.” Bethany huffed scowling at her making a crease form between her brows.

Telling her sister that she had ordered the armor before she even knew of the expedition again crossed her mind but she was sure it would do exactly as much good as it had the first time. Instead she took a deep breath and willed herself to hold onto the last shreds of her composure until at least they found the Warden healer they were looking for. “I need to protect myself, Beth. My old armor was falling apart.”

“But custom work?” Bethany could be such a pain sometimes. 

As much as Carver fought with Sekhmet on everything he at least would have understood this. “Now I won’t need to buy any more.” Although she hated upsetting Beth the feel of the black leather molding to her skin, moving with each bunch and flex of her body told her that the armor was worth every copper she spent on it. Not to mention it felt bloody fantastic on her.

“Ladies, I believe we are here. Look, two lit lanterns.” Varric raised his voice just a bit more than necessary probably to make sure the sisters could hear him over their bickering.

She turned to Varric and gave him a grateful smile though she was worried that he had spotted them before she had. In a place as cutthroat as she knew Darktown to be she really needed to keep her wits about her. Twin doors made of what looked to be cheap thin wood stood under the lanterns. Unlike the rest of Darktown the wall seemed to be free of debris perhaps it was a good sign. Nonetheless her gaze roved over and around the doors and across the floor looking for traps.When she didn’t spot anything she looked at Varric who nodded, he didn’t seem to see anything either so it was a fairly safe bet that it was alright to head inside.

The door slipped open easily into a well lit room. Before she had finished looking around their immediate space for traps on the floor she heard Bethany let out a gasp behind her. Her blades already drawn she looked back towards Bethany who merely smiled and nodded towards the front of the room. Her gaze slid in that direction and she held in a gasp of her own. Her first look at the blonde haired mage was a shock, she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but it sure wasn’t a man that looked like that.

It was his height that caught her attention first; the man had to be nearly seven feet tall. She’d never even seen a man that tall before. The tattoos were next, the stark black standing out vividly. His left cheek bore what looked to be a Chasind pattern of cross hatched vines, around the base of his neck twin vines covered in thorns twined making a collar that was mostly covered but peaked through here and there as he moved. 

His long hair, haphazardly pulled back in a ponytail was blonde, golden like the rays of the evening sun. It looked soft and inviting and she suddenly had an urge to run her fingers through it, see if it was as soft as it looked, would it smell like sunlight or the poisoned air of Darktown? Taking a deep breath she tried to shake the fool notion from her head, she didn’t even know this man she was already lusting after him. 

Her eyes continued to rove over him, each new discovery making her feel more and more strongly like she knew this man somehow. Even from back here, not even hearing him utter a single word yet he seemed familiar somehow. He was Ferelden, maybe she had met him briefly sometime in her past, before he had the tattoos. She shoved the thought out of her head, because if she had met him before she was pretty sure she didn’t want to remember how; although, it would explain the instant attraction. 

Unable to help herself she continued her slow perusal of the man, taking the opportunity to study him while he was busy with the child he was healing. She kept looking for some specific thing that made him seem familiar to her but was left at a loss. If ever she had met a man with markings like his she was sure she would have remembered even if she had been falling down drunk, he was quite remarkable afterall.

Though the man had broader shoulders than she had come to expect in mages he also seemed to be a bit on the thin side. Obviously, the hardships of Darktown and being a Ferelden living in Kirkwall had made their mark even on him. A distinctive and rather vicious looking scar cut across his left eye starting above the brow and cutting partway down his cheek. It seemed as though he still had vision in the eye though she wasn’t sure how. An eye damaged that badly would have been lost for sure, especially if it left a scar like that.

Her mind should have been on the business at hand but she couldn’t help but to enjoy the sight of him. The man was beautiful, high cheekbones, long almost regal looking nose, soft dark colored lips that he licked and bit periodically as he healed the boy. His forehead was high and wide, a sign of intelligence her father used to tell her, and those long elegant fingers looked almost delicate. Honestly, if she didn’t know any better based on his features she would have thought he was some noble. 

With features like his and knowing he was a healer one would think the man was a gentle creature and he certainly seemed to be but she felt something deeper. The dark thrum of danger rolled off the man emanating into the room in waves. Glancing around it didn’t seem anyone else felt it, but danger was something she was intimately familiar with. And standing here, even from across the room, with him distracted with healing, she felt drawn to him, the proverbial moth to a flame. Danger had always been a kind of an intoxicant to her.

As he finished with the boy, reeling in his magic he slumped a little and Sekhmet felt her heart give a little tug only managing with some effort to stay still and not go to him. _“Pull yourself together.”_ She admonished herself.

He grabbed a staff and spun to face the three of them, holding his hand out in warning. “I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it?” His voice reverberated in an odd way and Sekhmet felt little tingles across her skin. She knew that feeling; it was the barely restrained magic of a very powerful mage. Healer or not, it would not be smart to underestimate this man.

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his stubbled face and sallow skin. He clearly spent too much time out of the sun hidden away in the bowels of the city. With his head finally lifted she was able to get a better look at them. It was always good to see the eyes of whoever you were dealing with; it was harder to hide intentions in your eyes than on the rest of your face. His eyes were honey brown and even his defensive stance didn’t detract from their warmth. 

The blushing shop keeper who had directed them to the healer had been right, he did have killer eyes. Sekhmet wondered briefly what it would take to pull a smile from the man; she bet his smile would be just as devastating.

 _“Watch yourself, girl. This boy is trouble.”_ She almost smiled, like that had ever stopped her before. Something about the man was strangely beautiful, oddly alluring, not that he wasn’t beautiful from a purely physical stand point. It was just that there seemed some deeper cause to the attraction she felt to him she just couldn’t put her finger on it. He shifted uneasily in front of her, obviously waiting for a response or perhaps squirming under her obviously sharp scrutiny.

Hoping to calm the man some she slipped on her little smirk, and slipped her daggers back into their sheaths on her back. “An odd occupation for a Warden, aren’t they more about taint and death?” 

Varric stepped forward and glowered at her before turning his attention to Anders who had taken a small step backwards away from her. “Rumor has it you were a Grey Warden; we’re interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Do you know a way?” He spoke quickly, apparently not convinced of her abilities to appease the mage.

Anders seemed to pale a little before he scowled, “Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?”

Sekhmet furrowed her brow in confusion, what was the man talking about?

His voice sounded petulant when he spoke again. “I’m not going; those bastards made me get rid of my cat.” His face softened a little, “Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot.”

Sekhmet giggled, “You had a cat…called Ser Pounce-a-lot?” She stopped giggling but couldn’t quite suppress the smile. “In the Deep Roads?”

Anders shifted and stood up a bit taller, Maker the man was tall. As he continued she wondered briefly how long he could hold the scowl, or maybe it was just his natural state. Now that would be a waste, especially with lips like that. “He was a gift, a noble beast.” His stance softened a little again and he got a faraway look, the kind you get from a fond memory. At least the scowl had disappeared. “Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once, he swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood too.” Sekhmet suppressed another smile; he looked like a proud papa.

Sekhmet’s lip twitched, that smile really wanted to come out, “Of course, my apologies.”

He eyed her, clearly not believing her apology and switched gears again, looking a bit angry. “It doesn’t matter. If they didn’t send you, and you clearly don’t need healing what exactly is it you want from me?”

“So you came to Kirkwall to escape the Wardens?” She was curious now; did anyone ever leave the Wardens? She had never heard of such a thing.

The man suddenly seemed to age a couple of decades right in front of her. His face looked tired, haggard, his tall stance became and bit stooped even his head seemed bowed a bit. He let out a weary sigh. His lips parted few times before he turned his head a way. “Yes,” another slow sigh.“And some reasons of my own.”

“I thought being a Grey Warden was for life?” She was being earnest now, something had happened to this man, and she badly wanted to know what.

Anders gave a seemingly nonchalant shrug. A deep breath seemed to breathe new life into him. “That’s only partly true. The ‘hopelessly tainted by the Darkspawn’ and ‘plagued by nightmares about the Archdemon’ parts don’t go away. But it turns out if you hide well, you don’t need to wear the uniforms or go to the parties.” His lips twitched up into a small almost smile.

Sekhmet giggled, he was cute and funny, not to mention deflecting, a trick she knew intimately. She could let him have that; it wasn’t really any of her business anyway. She tried to sober herself, they were there for a reason, and the reason wasn’t so she could flirt with the sexy healer. “We are part of an expedition going into the Deep Roads; any help you could give would be appreciated and could save lives.”

He had been watching her with soft eyes; it seemed he had finally decided the three of them weren’t a threat to him or his clinic. But at the mention of the Deep Roads his posture changed again. She was getting tired just watching him slide through all the emotions. This was a very intense man. “Listen, I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. Trust me; you’re better off staying away from that place.” His eyes were staring intently into hers and she noticed a slight tremor run through his hands.

“Serrah Anders,” she paused, maybe it would be best to at least try to be polite with him, after all she wanted something from him and had nothing to really offer the man. Well, almost nothing, she mused biting her lip to hide her smile. “May I call you Anders?”

He gave a brief nod, eyes still locked onto hers.

“Anders, we just need to know if there are any entrances in the Free Marches, and if there are, where we can find them.” Wanting to touch him, maybe as reassurance or maybe for her own reason she took a small step towards him and was surprised when his body stiffened; she wasn’t even that close to him. She paused, not moving any closer. “Please,” she said softly, and it sounded as foreign to her ears as it felt on her lips. No one ever accused Sekhmet Hawke of being polite.

He turned taking a few steps away from her. The deep hum of his magic filled the room again though she didn’t see him casting anything. Maybe he was still worried about them after all, she became convinced he was going to turn them down flat but when he turned back he glanced over to Bethany and Varric with appraising looks. Slowly, his gaze slid back to her and his power began to dissipate again. “I have maps of the depths in this area, but they come with a price. A favor for a favor, sound fair?”

Sekhmet smiled, they had him. “Let’s be specific, I don’t do anything with children or animals.”

Anders’ lips quirked and for a moment she thought he was going to smile, but it passed quickly. “I came here to Kirkwall to help a friend. He’s in the Gallows, when he told me about how the Knight Commander here was turning the Circle into a prison I told him I would come.”

Sekhmet paused, chancing a glance back at Bethany, she knew her sister struggled with being an apostate. “You want to make your friend an apostate?”

Anders scowled again, “That’s such a weighted term.”; his words were ponderous, like just saying them was a heavy weight to be borne.

“No kidding.” Bethany mumbled under her breath.

“Yes, I suppose. I want to help free him.” Anders eyes glazed a little as he continued, “Andraste said magic should serve man not rule him. But I’ve yet to find a mage who wants to rule anything. It goes against no will of the Maker for mages to live as free as other men.” 

Sekhmet felt the familiar anger simmer to the surface, “Forcing mages into servitude is not the way to prevent the rise of another Imperium.” She took a breath ready to continue, only to let it out slowly when she felt Bethany’s hand on her arm. She must have been raising her voice because everyone was looking at her now. Mage freedom was something she had more than a passing interest in, how could you not when both your father and your sister were mages? Although, she couldn’t understand how anyone thought it was fair to lock people up just for being born.

She watched Anders’ gaze as it flicked to where Bethany touched her arm, a small smile graced his well sculpted lips, the first she had seen, and though it was small she had been right, Maker, the man had beautiful lips and a beautiful smile. Distracted by his lips she nearly missed what he was saying. “That is not usually the response I get, maybe we will work together better than I expected.” 

He took a deep breath, “The mages in the Gallows are locked in their cells, refused appearances at court, and made Tranquil for the slightest crimes. I believe the Templars know about my plan to free him. I told Karl to meet me at the Chantry tonight. Meet me there and help me to make sure that no matter how many Templars are there we all walk away free and my maps are yours.”

“We’ll be there, I promise.” She made sure to keep her smile hidden and her eyes locked with his so he would not doubt the sincerity of her words. Anytime she could free a mage of the Templar’s yoke she was more than happy to help.

Anders’ eyes flicked away from hers, he nodded and turned away from her heading towards the back of the clinic, clearly dismissing them. From the look of it he was already lost in his own thoughts even before Sekhmet headed for the door, dreading the stench of Darktown. As soon as they were out the clinic with the door closed behind then Bethany stopped her.

“Are you sure about this? I mean aren’t we trying to avoid the Templars?”

“I know, but we need the maps and you know how I feel about mages who don’t want to be locked up. You can stay home tonight, if you’d like.”

Bethany shook her head, “No, I want to help.”

Sekhmet turned to Varric, “And you?”

“Sure, why not. I’m always up for a little adventure.” He gave her a broad grin.

********

Anders watched, his chest tight as the three of them walked quickly up the steps to the Chantry. He hoped this would go smoothly, get in, get Karl and get out. The small woman’s hood was up covering her stark white hair, her tattooed face was hidden in shadow but there was no mistaking her.

He had stopped by Lirene’s store for supplies that afternoon and had learned that the white haired woman’s name was Sekhmet Hawke, an unusual name, for an unusual looking woman. Hawke had stopped there earlier looking for Anders. Everyone knew Lirene helped the Ferelden refugees, so it was a safe bet that she knew where to find them too. 

He had chastised Lirene for giving up his location with so little information about the trio. Lirene had blown it off saying that the two girls were clearly from Ferelden and one of them was a mage so they were obviously safe. She promised to be more careful in the future and gave him an extra discount to placate him.

The mage girl followed Hawke up the stairs. He liked her robes, they were cut well, showing a bit of cleavage, but also had a practical panel of chainmail down the front. She wore her long black hair loose and he was yet to see her without make-up. 

When he had seen her in the clinic earlier he hadn’t given her much thought, but looking at her now she seemed painfully young. He assumed she was related to Hawke, they had the same nose and cheek bones, although their coloring was almost completely opposite. Hawke was pale skinned with snow white hair and the mage had raven colored hair with smooth tanned skin.

The dwarf was beside her, his shirt opened showing a wide expanse of his chest covered with chestnut hair to match the hair on his head, which he wore shoulder length and pulled the top and sides back in a pony tail to keep it off his face. His leather coat and finely embroidered shirt made him out to be fairly well to do. And oddly for a dwarf, he had no beard, not even a mustache. Anders wasn’t sure he had ever seen a dwarven man without facial hair before.

Anders looked back to Hawke as they came closer, her steps were quick, and even though her face was still hidden by her deep hood, he could almost see her smile as she reached the top of the steps. She smiled quite a lot, though she didn’t seem to be dull witted as those who often smiled all too often were. Rather she seemed as though she found the whole world to be one big cosmic joke. Maybe it was.

Anders swallowed his throat suddenly dry, he was worried for Karl and now he was distracted. This could end disastrously if he couldn’t regain his focus. Yes, fine she was pretty, but so were dozens of other girls. It wasn’t like his situation was going to change any time soon so he took a deep breath and refocused as Sekhmet and her companions reached him at the top of the stairs.

He watched as Sekhmet reached for the door, lock picks already in hand, then she gave him and uneasy look when the knob turned easily and the door slid open. In the silence all around them her whisper seemed loud. “They don’t lock the Chantry at night?”

Anders wasn’t sure, some towns did and others didn’t and it wasn’t like he had been there before tonight. “I don’t know, there are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall, maybe they don’t feel they need to.”

She clearly wasn’t pleased with the answer but there was nothing he could do about it now. They wasted no time getting into the Chantry. It took them a few minutes to find Karl, the Chantry was even larger than it looked from the outside. He watched Sekhmet get more and more uneasy as they moved through the Chantry and wanted to ask what was wrong but decided to keep quite lest she decide not to help him.

Finally, they located Karl in what seemed to be a sort of dormitory though the beds were empty. Anders was just relieved they had finally found Karl but when Karl spoke he felt his world careen sideways. Karl’s voice that had always been so full of life and laughter had a flat tone to it, stripped of all of his passion.

“Anders. I know you too well. I knew you would never give up.”

Waves of anger and pain his him almost simultaneously as Karl turned around and Anders saw the brand on his forehead that denoted the Tranquil in Kirkwall. As always now, he struggled to fight down the rage and heard twin gasps next to him from Hawke and the mage with her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the mage girl take a few steps backwards, reaching for her staff when Karl started speaking about the Templars teaching Anders to master himself.

Anders closed his eyes when he heard the heavy clink and shuffle of armor behind him. Part of him had hoped the mage girl’s precaution was unnecessary as another part couldn’t wait to face the bastards who had turned his friend into this hollow man in front of him. Justice started pushing against him and Anders struggled to contain him. The Templars deserved to die, but he didn’t want to hurt the other who had only come to help him. Justice surged forward again, stronger than the first time and Anders collapsed to his knees covering his face knowing he was going to lose control, unable to stop it. “No.” His voice was ragged and raw with emotion.

The room exploded in a brilliant flash of sky blue fire and smoke. Justice leapt to his feet quickly; his body partially crouched as if he was an animal ready to attack. Eyes ablaze with pulsing blue light and skin cracked in dozens of different places as more of the blue spirit fire shone through unable to be contained within Anders’ limited form he growled at the Templars. “You will never take another mage as you took him.” Justice’s voice was so loud and resonate the fixtures in the room shook with the force of it.

Anders, with only a small fraction of control glanced at those who had come with him trying to get through to Justice not to hurt them. Even as he shared the thought he could feel his reason slipping away, could feel the pure rage sweeping him away. His quick glimpse had shown his temporary companions and their reactions to Justice’s appearance. Hawke looked at him curiously for a second before quickly slipping a dagger between the breast plate and helmet of a Templar as if she saw that sort of thing every day. The mage girl took a half step away from him, but other than that didn’t acknowledge she had even seen him change. Only the dwarf seemed a bit perturbed.

During the brief moments he was able to cling to lucidity, as Justice brought vengeance down on the Templars, Anders watched as Hawke moved quickly through the Templars, killing them with cold efficiency, her daggers almost a blur she moved so quickly. The mage girl rained fire down on the Templars like a goddess of wrath and the dwarf had the most beautiful crossbow Anders had ever seen.

The fight hadn’t lasted long but as the Templars lay dead around them and Justice subsided it left Anders feeling drained. He turned at the sound of Karl’s voice from behind him, not the dull flat voice of the Tranquil, but Karl’s voice.

“Anders, what did you do? It’s like…you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like.” Karl sounded excited and a little afraid.

“Yes, what did you do? Not the Fade part, the angry glowing bit.” Hawke was smirking at him and he wanted to think she was naïve to smile at a time like this, but he had a feeling it was something else completely, though he wasn’t sure what as of yet. 

Anders thought briefly about answering her question but decided it was neither the time nor place. “It’s true I have some,” his gaze flicked to Hawke again, why did he care what she thought? “…unique circumstances. But Karl, what happened?” He easily deflected the attention back to Karl.

“The Templars here are much more diligent than they were in Ferelden. Then found a letter I had been writing to you in my room.” Karl gave a sad sigh, “When you’re Tranquil you never think on your life before. But…it’s like the Fade itself is inside Anders, burning like a sun.” His fingers reached out for a moment to Anders and a large part of him wanted to take the proffered hand, he had even started to lift his to take Karl’s but Karl suddenly dropped his own. Karl had looked down at his hand before lifting his gaze back to Anders’. Pleading with both his voice and his eyes, “Please, kill me before I forget again! I don’t know how you brought it back, but its fading.” 

“Karl, no.” Anders heard his voice crack echoing the crack he felt forming through his heart. 

“I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet.” Karl’s back was rigid with determination and his voice had taken an edge, a steeliness.

Anders’ heart ached, he couldn’t do it, there was no way. Hawke move close to him they were almost touching and her voice was low, barely above a whisper. She looked to the mage girl for a moment before looking at Anders with her crystalline blue eyes, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of a vast ocean of pain there. It took Anders by surprise, but he quickly pushed all thoughts of it aside as she spoke.

“My sister says being made Tranquil is a fate worse than death. Give him peace.” The last three words seemed to take a great effort for her to speak.

Pain bloomed bright in his gut, she was right, but it didn’t feel right to kill a man who had meant so much to him once. He felt frozen and couldn’t move, it felt like a betrayal no matter how he looked at it. Gentle fingers touched his elbow and turned to face Hawke hoping for reprieve, for an answer.

He was surprised by the depth of emotion she spoke with; her words still quiet, still only for him but with an urgency now. “You crossed the sea for him, and put your life on the line for a chance to free him. You even faced down the Templars for what they did to him, he knows how you feel about him Anders and he trusts you to do what he cannot. Set him free.”

A strangled half sob escaped Anders’ lips before he could speak. “I’m sorry, Karl, I should have come sooner.” 

Karl became agitated, “Now! It’s fading.” His face suddenly went blank and his voice became eerily dispassionate again. “Why do you look at me like that?”

It felt a little easier this way, a little easier to pretend it was no longer Karl. He stepped close, wrapping one arm around Karl to hold him still and slipped the dagger from his waist with a shaking hand, “Goodbye,” he whispered in the older man’s ear and plunged the dagger quickly into his one time lover. With fumbling fingers he put the dagger back and spun away from their consoling looks as Karl’s body crumpled to the floor.

 _“They will pay Karl. Everyone of them will pay for this with their lives. I swear it.”_ The words swam in his head and steeled him enough to keep him moving without collapsing. He took a steadying breath. “We should leave before more Templars come.” Not wanting to look at them he strode quickly away from Karl’s body and out into the night. Anders did not slow or pause until he was back in the shelter of his clinic in Darktown. He had hoped that the three of them would leave him alone, but he knew he owed them an explanation.

As he stopped finally and turned to face them he heard Hawke’s voice, “So, let me guess. This is the part where you tell me you’re an abomination?”

Anders couldn’t believe it, she was actually smiling. He sighed, at least she wasn’t screaming. “You’re wrong but not far wrong.” Deep breaths, slow deep breaths would get him through the explanation, “I…this is hard to explain.” Another deep breath, then another and then he told them about his friend Justice. How Justice had become trapped outside the Fade and how over time they had become friends. “He saw the injustices that mages in Thedas face every day.

As time went on the body he was in deteriorated more and more. He could no longer interact with mortals as he wished. A corpse is one thing but rotted and heavily damaged corpse is another. To live outside the Fade, he needed a host; I offered to help him…” He swallowed hard and looked down. “We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle.

“But I had so much anger, once he was inside me, he…changed.” he paused and took a breath; it was amazing how hard it was to tell people that you had destroyed your friend. 

“This is obviously difficult for you.” Sekhmet’s eyes were tender and her voice was soft again.

Anders stared at Hawke for a moment, her compassion taking him completely by surprise. It had been a long time since he had been on the receiving end of that particular emotion and Sekhmet had already been compassionate with him twice in one night. Trying not to think about how much that simple compassion meant to him he continued. “He was my friend, we wanted to help each other, instead…” his voice trailed off, he had no words for what had happened, for what he had done.

The mage girl, Hawke’s sister, spoke up after a few moments of silence. “You tried to help a friend; surely no harm can come from that?”

He looked her over for a second. Young, oh yes she was terribly young, way too young to see the things she would likely see if she spent any time around him. What was she doing following Hawke around? She was too young to see all the ugliness that existed. For a moment he felt a surge of protectiveness for her. He realized it was Justice and almost shuddered as he fought down his bitterness. “I wish I still had your innocence.” And he did, but it had been many years since he had been able to think in those terms.

“My anger, my rage…what I saw as my impotence in the face of the Templars, it warped him. He is a creature of vengeance and he knows no mercy.” Anders hung his head, couldn’t help it; he had corrupted his pure and good friend.

There was silence as the weight of what he said settled over the room. He watched their faces as they each mulled it over. The dwarf, Varric was his name, looked torn. And Hawke’s sister, Bethany, looked impossibly sad, when she noticed him looking at her she began to study her nails.

Hawke openly regarded him, her eyes searched his face, he had no idea what she was looking for and was surprised yet again when she smiled. Although, he supposed he shouldn’t be, she smiled quite a bit. It was her words more than anything that shocked him though.

“So,” she settled her hand on her hip and canted it to the side a bit. “That explains your whole sexy tortured look.”

Almost immediately Anders heard a groan from behind her, Bethany was obviously not impressed with her sister’s flirting. Anders actually found himself as flattered as he was relieved and was sure his eyebrows had headed for his hairline he was so surprised. “Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often.” He felt a small surge of warmth through him. “I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said.” A small smile touched his lips and he took a moment to really look her over.

For a human woman she was short, a little wisp of a thing, her younger sister was by far the taller of the two. Her leather armor fit her close showing off the swell of her hips. Her legs were long, her thighs and calves clearly defined from all the exercise she presumably got. She looked like she might be part elf, though it didn’t really mean anything, his mother was an elf yet he was a tall man. 

Her shoulders were a bit square, though nothing like Sareyna’s. The daggers she wielded were obviously lighter than the dual swords ‘Reyna wielded. He pushed aside the feeling of loss when he thought of Sareyna, turning his concentration back to something more pleasant, to Hawke.

She was undoubtedly attractive. The tattoo on her face looked like a butterfly or maybe a phoenix and Anders felt the familiar tingle at seeing a woman with tattoos. He had really thought that he had turned this part of himself off since Justice, but the idea that she was not at all fazed by him being possessed was very attractive. Before Justice a comment like the one she had just made would have ended with them in bed together, but things were different now. And there was the odd feeling he had experienced in the clinic earlier. As they had spoken he became more and more convinced he knew her, but then again he knew a lot of people from Ferelden, best not to dwell on it.

His mouth opened before he really thought out what he was going to say. “My maps are yours, as am I if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me…I will be waiting here.” He cringed inwardly, why had he just offered to go into the Deep Roads? _“Because I’m a sucker for a smile and a pretty face. Always have been.”_ Anders almost regretted his choice of words when she gave him her half smile again.

“Then I’ll be seeing you real soon Anders.” She gave him a bit of a wink before she turned and left. 

Anders turned and sank onto one of the cots. “Karl, I’m almost glad you can’t see me now. Possessed, half starved and back to following anyone who will be nice to me around like a puppy.” He closed his eyes, “I hope you find peace my friend, I hope we both do.”


	3. Justice For Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice reflects on his life with Anders, pre and post merging.

Justice had thought for a long time before approaching Anders about a possible union. Anders was tall and lean, not a warrior, but strong and fit nonetheless. He worked his body even though there was no need, his magic was more than enough to defend him but unlike the other mages in the Wardens he trained just as hard physically as the warriors did. 

He was a bit on the vain side for Justice’s taste, but it wasn’t as if Justice was blind to the man’s beauty. Justice had spent countless hours trying to determine if Anders’ looks would be a benefit or a disadvantage. He watched him when Anders wasn’t looking. 

He watched as the golden rays of sun kissed his skin and sparked off the lustrous shine of his hair; watched him push himself training with his staff until he was covered in sweat and his hair stuck to his head in wet strands. And he watched those who watched Anders. Their smiles and furtive glances, their nervousness and their willingness to give the man anything he wanted.

In the end he decided it didn’t matter, he was a powerful mage with a strong body and a cause that pulled at Justice. So he had gone to find him to offer his help, as Anders had wanted to leave the Wardens for some time. The new Commander was an angry and bitter woman who had been nothing but cruel to the mage.

He walked into the dimly lit library, closing and locking the heavy wooden door behind him. Anders, nested deep in a russet colored wing back chair, looked up from his book at the sound, candlelight catching in his eyes enhancing their natural warmth. A frown tugged at the mage’s too pretty lips and lines furrowed his high brow. His long, pale, graceful fingers placed a ribbon into the heavy tome he was reading and he closed it.

“Yes?” His voice was quiet, somber. The humor that had threaded through the man’s voice for as long as Justice had known Anders had been chased away by the Commander weeks ago.

“I would speak with you.” He wasn’t sure why but Anders’ demeanor over the last few weeks since the loss of his feline companion bothered him. The man who had returned from Amaranthine had been a much different one than Justice had come to know. He had thought Anders’ constant humor annoying but this quiet, somber Anders bothered him more. It was then, upon the melancholy mage’s return that Justice had first thought of leaving the Wardens with Anders.

Anders uncrossed his long legs, encased in faded grey woolen trousers because the Commander had forbidden robes. She had even made Anders stop wearing the long coats he had commissioned from Wade before Sareyna and the others had left even though he wore trousers with them. Anders sat forward and made an elegant gesture to the chair across from him.

That first conversation had gone disastrously with Anders screaming that he wouldn’t become a flesh sack for Justice. He had stood over Justice, towering above him even when Justice had pushed to his feet. His warm brown eyes had darkened to a deep chocolate color, his brows had drawn together and his lips had thinned as he yelled, accusing Justice of being no better than a demon.

Justice had been angry and confused. He was no demon, and he had wanted to help Anders. A few days later he had gone to find Anders again, he had learned that in the mortal realm it was important to apologize when you upset someone and had not meant to. This time he found Anders in his room, he was curled up on the ledge of his window, his long fingers tracing patterns on the heavy glass as the rain fell outside. The fire had died down not providing much light so only the dreary light of day filtered into the room.

He did not turn to see Justice when he invited him in, just continued to stare out the window, his eyes seemingly unfocused, the darkness and rain a seeming perfect accompaniment to his mood. His inattention didn’t bother Justice he continued with what he had come for. “Anders, I apologize about the other day in the library. I did not mean to upset you; I had only thought to help.”

Anders gave a great sigh and leaned his forehead against the pane for a moment. “I know Justice. I shouldn’t have been so angry. I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately.”

“You miss your fel…” Justice remembered Anders preferred it when Justice used the cat’s name. “Pounce.”

Anders turned and stood, giving Justice a small smile, “Yes, I do. I suppose I’m just lonely.”

“Perhaps we could spend time together. We are friends, is that not what friends do?” Anders was his friend and Justice wanted to help him, even if it was just to relieve the man’s loneliness. He did find pain beautiful but the only thing Anders seemed to have felt for weeks was pain. It was starting to make Justice ache.

Anders settled onto the couch, folding his long legs underneath him. Justice had noticed that many of Anders’ habits and movements were very different from the other men in the Keep. Although he was clearly a man his graceful movements, his fondness for curling up reminded Justice more of the women he had met in the Keep. 

He had asked about it once, months ago and Anders had laughed and told him that there weren’t really differences like that in the Circle. The strict lines between feminine and masculine were more apparent outside of the Circle because of the different lives men and women led. Justice had thought more people should be like Anders, he liked the way the mage moved. It reminded him of the fluid nature of his home, of the Fade. 

Anders patted the couch, “Come, sit. Let’s visit a while.”

Justice nodded, wishing the rotting corpse he was housed in could still smile. He would have liked to show his pleasure at the invitation. He wondered what Kristoph’s smile had looked like when he was alive, was it as pretty as Anders’ or Nathaniel’s? Even Sigrun had a pretty smile, her whole face changed when she smiled. 

Justice felt heaviness pull at him. There were so many people at the Keep and they all were pretty in their own way. Their bodies, their smiles, their eyes, each one of them had something pleasing to them. All but Justice, his rotting body could in no way be construed as attractive. It was a funny thing, not something he had thought about before trapped in the mortal realm.

“Justice, are you alright?” Anders’ voice, soft and still somber spoke to him again.

Justice looked back at Anders. “You are very pretty.”

A bark of laughter escaped the mage and though Justice had no idea what was funny he was glad to hear Anders laugh. And when Anders’ eyes twinkled with mischief Justice was happy to see that too even though he knew that mischief would be at his own expense. “Am I now? And how did you come to that conclusion?”

Justice was confused; men and women fawned all over the mage, constantly. “Are you not aware that you are attractive?”

“I’ve been told a time or two; I was curious why you thought I was attractive. And why use the word pretty?” The smile still played about the man’s lips and his eyes were still amused.

“Did I offend you?” Why did the man need more information? He already knew he was pretty.

“No, forget it.” His smile slipped away and his eyes dropped, seeming to study the floor.

Justice didn’t like it; he had enjoyed seeing the old Anders again. “Your smile is nice.” The smile returned to the mage’s lips and Justice relaxed a little. “They way you move is graceful and you have pretty eyes.”

The mischief was back in those pretty eyes. “Justice, are you flirting with me?”

Justice stopped, thinking for a moment, flirting was something he was still learning about, but it was when two people were interested in each other in a physical way, in a way that led to copulation. “No. I do not desire to fornicate with you.”

Anders laughed again. “Oh, Justice you wound me.”

This was the man Justice had known, irreverent and laughing. Again, he wished he could smile, Anders almost never engaged in this type of banter with him. “In what way have I wounded you?”

“I thought I was irresistible, but it seems you are immune to my charms.” He moved a little closer to Justice, those almost feminine lips curled into a smirk. His long fingers draped over his knee.

Justice absently touched those long fingers so beautiful, so graceful, so powerful, just a brief contact. “I am not immune.” He realized he was touching Anders and jerked his hand away. “I apologize, that must have been unpleasant.”

Anders was more serious now, watching him curiosity on his face. “It felt odd but not unpleasant.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or grateful. “You are being kind.”

Anders raised his fingers and ghosted them across Justice’s brow, “Can you feel it when I touch you?” He didn’t look disgusted, just curious still.

“No, not really.” He heard the sadness in his voice; something he couldn’t control, unlike the mortals around him.

“Does it bother you not being able to feel others?” Anders had moved closer again.

“No, I have never been able to feel things in a physical way.” Not in the Fade and not in the flesh either.

“Do you ever wish you could?” Anders eyes traveled over him and Justice was relieved that he didn’t look disgusted; so many others couldn’t hide their revulsion.

“I am sometimes curious, others seem to enjoy it.” It was true, he wondered what those mortals felt that they seemed to need to touch everything.

“Do you trust me Justice?” He was watching Justice’s eyes now.

“Of course.” Justice had fought beside the man often enough to know he could be trusted.

Now Anders looked nervous, shifting a little. “Can I trust you?”

“Yes,” an odd question.

“I’ll let you use my body for a few moments, not inside me, but I can make a connection that will let you stay in Kristoph’s body and control mine, let you use all my senses. But when I want control back you have to let me have it alright?”

Justice watched the pulse in Anders’ neck racing. The mage was nervous, but willing to try just to let Justice see what it was to actually be able to feel. Justice nodded stiffly, “Yes.”

Anders reached out and touched his temple and began speaking words that Justice didn’t really understand. A few minutes later he felt an odd sense of falling and realized he was feeling a lot of things all at once. He felt air moving across his tongue and in his nose as Anders’ breathed. He felt something under his fingers and moved his fingers away from his…Kristoph’s temple. He felt the soft fabric on his skin, felt the heat and damp of the room. 

He would feel something and Anders’ mind provided the word. He felt giddy and laughed. Surprised he stood up, almost falling when he jerked his feet away from the chill of the hard stone floor. After a moment he became accustomed to it and walked over to Anders’ long looking glass. He moved close and smiled, studying the smile, Anders’ beautiful smile.

His fingers rose to touch those soft lips without really thinking about it. But those lips were soft and warm and he liked touching them. He ghosted his fingers across Anders’ cheek, such soft, warm skin. He had no idea Anders’ body felt so good. He looked to Anders’ golden hair and felt Anders’ heart speed up, it felt odd, but not unpleasant. His fingers slipped through Anders’ golden tresses, soft, warm, silky. 

He couldn’t help himself he did it again and again. “So soft.” He whispered, surprised again. He felt almost as if he were in a trance as the long strands slide through his fingers. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the man’s hair. Was all hair this soft? Were all humans this soft? Soft, Anders was so soft.

Justice opened his eyes, his fingers suddenly itching to touch more of Anders. One hand pulled up Anders’ tunic while the fingers of the other skated over his abdomen feeling again the soft skin, but hard planes beneath, muscle he realized. He was feeling the muscle under Anders’ skin. He saw the top of a tattoo peaking out of Anders’ trousers. A tattoo he had wondered about a dozen times. Anders was covered in tattoos, but there wasn’t enough of this one showing to make it out. 

It only took a moment for him to realize he couldn’t take a look. Anders was trusting him with his body, undressing it further would be betraying that trust. Mortals were secretive about certain parts of their anatomy and he had the feeling it would make Anders uncomfortable if he were to undress his body further. 

Instead, he turned and looked around the room. He saw a glass of wine on a small table and quickly moved to taste it. He almost spit it back out, it was bitter but he swallowed not wanting to waste it. And that was a whole slew of sensations in itself, the muscles moving, the feel of the liquid slipping down his throat the small bloom of warmth when it hit Anders’ stomach.

He caressed the fabric on his legs; it was coarser than the tunic but still felt interesting. He wandered around the room touching everything he could see before heading back to the mirror. He pulled Anders’ tunic off completely and traced the griffon tattoo on the man’s chest. If he hadn’t been watching in the mirror he wouldn’t have even realized he had frowned. It didn’t feel any different than the rest of skin on his chest, how odd.

He traced a finger over the darker color of Anders’ nipple and shivered, it was an odd feeling, the flesh much more sensitive than the rest of Anders’ skin and it puckered into a tight bead. Curious he tried touching the other one and it did the same thing. It was so weird, he didn’t touch them again, he wasn’t sure if he liked it. His gaze turned to his hands; Anders’ long elegant fingers weren’t half so graceful when he was moving them.

He walked away watching himself in the mirror. No, he didn’t have half Anders’ grace; he was disappointed but didn’t dwell on it. He was feeling all sorts of things and it was amazing. Spotting Anders’ bed he crawled into it sinking into its softness. He slid his fingers through Anders hair again, fanning it out, then dropped down to caress Anders’ bare chest and abdomen again. Anders’ lower abdomen had a thin line of hair disappearing into his trousers. He slid his fingers over the hair, surprised it was not as soft and silky as the hair on the man’s head.

He stopped when he felt a tightening in his chest. Not his, but Anders. He was doing something that Anders was uncomfortable with. He stopped touching Anders’ body. “I apologize; I am ready to stop now.” He felt like he was falling again then all the sensations he had been feeling were gone. 

Looking over at Anders, still lying on the bed he felt a moment of regret, a lot of things had felt wonderful but he hadn’t really taken the time to feel or experience anything that was less than nice. As soon as he had felt Anders’ discomfort he had given up altogether, not wanting to feel that tightness, that discomfort. And he felt ashamed, not something he remembered ever feeling before. He had left the body as soon as he felt any discomfort, and yet all these months he had found pain beautiful.

Anders sat up then grabbed his tunic and dragged it on over his head. His longs legs moved gracefully, all Anders own elegance and grace returned to the limbs, and he moved to sit down on the couch with Justice again. He sat much farther away from Justice this time and he felt a pang of regret, he had made the mage uncomfortable.

“Again, I apologize Anders. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, but I do not completely understand what I did that you were uncomfortable with.” And it was true, he had left the mage’s trousers on to shield the part of his body that Justice knew men were sensitive about. He had not looked on the mage’s naked body or touched it. Before Anders opened his mouth to reply he realized the last thing he had touched before Anders had become anxious. “The hair on your abdomen, you did not like me touching it?”

Anders gave him a small smile, an offering Justice was sure. “I am very sensitive there. I did not want to have a reaction that would embarrass us both.”

Justice was even more confused, “Embarrass? Why would we be embarrassed?”

Anders chuckled lightly, “Not important. Tell me what you think about what you experienced.”

And so they had spent the night talking about it. Anders shared himself with Justice several more times letting Justice taste foods and pet animals, even letting Justice feel what it was like when Anders’ exerted his body when he worked with his staff. It was a feeling Justice enjoyed, the work and the euphoria from it, even the fatigue afterwards was satisfying. Anders called these moments of sharing himself with Justice experiments.

Anders always kept his emotions hidden when Justice was experiencing things through him. They never had another incident like the first one where Anders became worried. And as they spent more time together Anders started to smile a little more, seeming to enjoy the things he was able to do for Justice. 

He even opened up to Justice a bit talking about how he missed the Commander, Lieutenant and even the Elvin assassin. He spoke of the Circle a bit, though Justice noticed he was very careful to never speak of himself. Even still Justice could not help but get angry on Anders’ behalf, on the behalf of all mages. What was done to them, what they suffered was unconscionable.

At first Anders would just roll his eyes when Justice spoke of getting rid of the Circle and freeing mages. But as the weeks went on he watched as Anders began to really listen, and then it was Anders speaking to him about what could be done, about what he considered the real evil of the Circle and the Chantry. It was mesmerizing watching him speak so passionately and eventually he brought up the two of them merging again as a way to give Anders the help he would need to effect the change he wanted to see in the Circle.

At this point Justice wasn’t even sure how they had come to an agreement. He was missing a lot from the last few weeks he was in his own body, mostly he remembered fear that he was losing his hold on Kristoph’s rotting corpse and would end up either dissipating completely or being thrust back into the Fade, neither of which he really wanted.

He thought he had an idea of what to expect from the time he had spent sharing Anders’ senses, but the reality was far different. Justice had learned about the detriments of having a living mortal body rather quickly. His first foray with Anders had been dispatching those who had tried to kill them. The sword that Rolan had pushed into his chest had not affected Justice at all, he had barely even felt it, and so he had almost forgotten about it as he had killed the rest of the group. Saving his and Anders’ life from the Templars that Rolan had summoned.

He had retreated when their enemies were dead and his anger was spent . Anders nearly died. A sword that could not harm him could nearly kill his host. Anders still bore a scar as a reminder of that painful lesson. The mage had nearly bled to death on that field as he tried to heal himself faster than he bled out. Exhausted and short of blood Anders had to push himself to his feet anyway and flee before he was found.

So, they had both learned that Justice needed to remove anything that had pierced them before giving Anders back control of his body. That way there were no injuries when Anders regained control, neither of them wanted their partnership to end over such a small thing, over forgotten injuries. Anders’ living body required much more attention and care than had Kristoff’s deceased one.

Justice also learned about necessary bodily functions such as excreting waste, a vile thing. Even sweat had bothered Justice at first. Kristoff’s skin had been dead and so Justice had felt nothing. But Anders’ skin, body was alive and Justice felt everything. Other than those experiments with Anders Justice had never felt the ground beneath his feet, the fabric on his body or the wind against his face. Being touched by others unsettled Justice and he shied away from it. 

Anders had fought against Justice fiercely on that, he craved touch but eventually he became accustomed to not being touched by anyone. Though he ached horribly from its loss, Anders came to realize it was safer for everyone. There were so many things that were difficult for Justice, it was nice he could enjoy a few. Eating was a wonderful experience. There were so many flavors, so many textures and even the food that Anders assured him was quite awful was a delight to Justice who was only too happy for Anders’ Warden appetite.

Though that same appetite came to be a detriment as access to food became scarce for the duo. Anders constantly ached for food and always felt tired. Eventually, Justice learned how to override Anders’ aches and fatigue and was able to keep them going without Anders being in so much discomfort.

But those things took time as Justice tried to cope with Anders’ mind. Anders’ mind had been the biggest shock for Justice; he had not been prepared for the sheer magnitude of Anders’ thoughts and desires. Anders had always kept himself apart during their experiments, but once joined he was no longer able to maintain that distance, his and Justice’s thoughts blended together.

There were hundreds of new experiences for him and many hurdles for him to jump but the thing that Justice had the most difficulty with was the dizzying speed with which Anders thought. It seemed a thought had barely formed when there was a new one and a new one. Justice was left feeling like he was spinning with no direction. 

He had known the mage was smart, most everyone at the Keep did, but having a front row view of his thoughts Justice was pretty sure the word genius applied. He tried for weeks to follow all of Anders thoughts only to end up confused and unsure of what was going on around them. His mind just didn’t work like Anders’ so he had shut himself off from much of the mage’s mind, just skimming the surface for things that applied to their immediate situation. 

And the man seemed insatiable in so many ways; he always wanted more knowledge, more time, more physical contact. Anders was what Justice had heard referred to as a man of strong passions. What Anders wanted most of all, the thing that burned through the man’s psyche was his deep desire for love, not just to be loved but to be able to love someone in return. That he had never been in love was a great source of sadness for the mage. 

Nor was Justice prepared for the onslaught of Anders’ memories. Kristoff’s memories were echoes where Anders’ were screams, all too often in the dark. Justice raged every time he stumbled upon a new memory where Anders was hurt in some way. The first few days were a dizzying series of rages against an invisible opponent. 

Anders had wandered in the woods afraid of exposing anyone to his new found wrath. For days Justice and Anders had both stumbled around scorching the woods with impotent fire as Justice struggled with Anders’ memories. There was no way to fight against a memory, and Justice had felt himself warping, changing under the weight of a fury that strong with nothing to vent against.

Justice desperately tried to cling to what he had been, searching through Anders’ mind for moments of kindness, moments of joy. But the message only became clearer the deeper Justice dug. The Templars were an injustice, a pestilence on the world. They abused their charges and stole children from loving parents. For each moment of kindness and joy Anders had known, he knew a dozen more of pain and loneliness.

And when he found the memories from the year Anders spent in solitary a white-hot rage had filled Justice forging him into something new, something stronger than before, something fueled by his fury and hate of the Templars. Monsters, they were monsters, they needed to die, every last one of them deserved nothing less than a long painful death. Did even demons torment and torture their victims as brutally as the Templars did? Did they spend half so much time reveling in their victim’s pain? And these men…no these evil creatures were supposed to guard the mages? Justice would send them all to the Void, he would not spare them an ounce of pain, they deserved it and so much more.

Even as an adult the Templars had parted Anders from those he loved, from his family. When Sareyna, Alistair and Zevran had left the Wardens Anders had stayed behind to save them from being hunted by the Templars. He had stayed behind to fight the monsters so his family wouldn’t be hunted by worse ones. In the face of the fiendish, inhuman nature of the Templars and their deeds Justice felt himself pulling free of the morality he had always clung to. How could one believe in honor and fairness in a world where such things existed?

He had thought he understood things like smiles and laughter, he had seen them on many faces at Vigil’s Keep. They denoted someone who was happy. Anders was anything but happy yet he smiled and laughed more than anyone else that Justice had met since leaving the Fade. Anders used his smile as Alistair had used his shield. Months he had spent among the mortals but he had not understood them, not even a little.

None of Anders’ emotions made sense to Justice. Where Kristoff’s body had fond and loving memories of Aura and Justice had spent much time with her to try to capture some of that feeling, Anders emotions were all a jumble, anger and resentment mixed with desire and love. Nothing was clear; there was nothing Anders felt that was not accompanied with bitterness, with a sense of loss.

Justice wondered if that unhappiness was the reason that Anders indulged so often in the vices of the flesh. The man had seemed to find some sort of shallow comfort in it, but it had unsettled Justice too much and he had reacted badly, nearly hurting the man Anders was seeking his shallow solace with. A combination of fear and a less than firm grasp of Anders’ magic would have been disastrous if Anders hadn’t felt the change and jumped away from the man sparing him.

Since then Justice had made sure Anders was aware of exactly how he felt about sexual contact. Anders had never argued with him about it, though Justice had felt the man’s sense of loss. Justice had felt regret at constraining Anders so, but he could not tolerate such intimacy. Even Anders’ sexual thoughts were difficult to handle, Justice doing his best to quash them whenever they popped into the mage’s mind.

It was not to be the last constraint that Justice needed to insist upon. Alcohol was another thing that Anders indulged in that was an unpleasant experience for Justice. The loss of coordination and Anders confused thoughts had terrified Justice. He believed Anders was dying the first time. When he realized he would never grow accustomed to it he had forbidden it. When Anders persisted he had learned how to filter the foul substance from Anders’ body, not letting the effects grab hold of them. Anders had been furious, but unable to prevent Justice from doing so. 

That had been the first time he had felt animosity from Anders about their union. The first time he had truly felt that Anders regretted it. Justice had taken away any comfort Anders might have found, any reprieve from their life and his dark thoughts and he resented Justice for it. He hated all the restrictions and restraints once he realized he could not impose his will on Justice even when the spirit could impose his will on Anders.

It seemed however that the need for constraint went both ways, even though it was voluntary on Justice’s side. Although Justice could feel through Anders skin, it was apparently a muted thing. Justice did not feel things like heat and cold as Anders did and after several accidents had needed to defer to Anders so he would no longer hurt the mage.

A living body was so much more difficult to navigate than a dead one, although, it required much less energy to move. When he was in control, which Anders fought him for more and more, he barely thought about a movement and Anders’ body was carrying it out. It was liberating. Inside Anders’ body sharing it with the mage he felt more free than he had since he had left the Fade. Eventually, he had realized that his controlling the body made Anders feel trapped so he stopped; only taking control when he felt it was needed, when action needed to be taken against their enemies. After that things between the two of them had improved.

Anders was still nervous about hurting people accidentally, or rather Justice hurting people that Anders did not want to hurt, for the most part though as they settled into Darktown they had found a balance that worked for both of them. It bothered Justice that Anders was so sad and alone, it bothered him even more that Anders felt he had in some way harmed Justice. No matter the assurances he gave, Anders persisted in his own twisted beliefs.

Then Hawke had come into their life, he had been grateful for her at first. She was an ally in their war against the Templars, even going with them to try to save Karl and killing the Templars with no mercy. She had been magnificent. But then she had started coming by more and more taking Anders all over the city to perform tasks, tasks that had nothing to do with helping mages or killing Templars for the most part.

Anders had tried to convince him they needed the money but Justice wasn’t sure he agreed. The clinic was Anders’ little pet project, something Justice had allowed because he had taken so much from Anders and the mage seemed to settle and relax more, his mind more clear when he was able to heal others. Now Justice thought he was just using the clinic as an excuse to be with Hawke.

Most of the words stayed in Anders head, never spoken aloud but Justice recognized the point of them nonetheless. Anders liked the woman, he found her smart and funny yes, but more than that he wanted to bed her. Justice was constantly subjected to images of Anders and the woman naked and entwined in some way. Justice had learned more about Anders’ sexual proclivities in the few weeks since they had met Hawke then he had in the months the two of them had been bonded.

Anders loved how small she was, loved her snow white hair and her purple painted lips. He adored everything about the woman though he often denied it even to himself. Justice did everything he could to discourage Anders from spending time with or even thinking about the woman. If Anders thought about it enough Justice was sure the man would attempt to bed her, unable to control his long suppressed urges. If things didn’t change he was going to have to start asserting himself again. He would not allow her to distract Anders from their cause.


	4. Collecting Crazy-She Looks So Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding the Dalish and meeting Merrill do not sit well with Anders. He hasn't had a lot of luck when it comes to Dalish women.

The sun had been baking Anders inside his long coat for two days but he wasn’t about to strip down to the thin clothes he wore underneath. Heavy peacock blue and light tan leather was the only protection he had from Hawke’s hungry gaze and from revealing how those long lingering looks affected him. His body very much appreciated all the attention, even if his mind didn’t.

Being free of the dirty floors, poisoned air and heartbreaking sobs of Darktown felt good and his body was reveling in it. Late on the first day he had suffered through several coughing fits as his lungs purged the stale, putrid air of Darktown to instead replace it with the fresh mountain air of Sundermount. The sallow color of his skin had already started deepening to a light tan wherever it was exposed to the hot Kirkwall summer sun. Even his hair, which had become darkened and lackluster over the months was lightening from the intensity of the sun.

The verdant greens and splashes of color on the mountain were gorgeous and he found himself gawping like…well like a mage who had spent most of his life locked in a tower. Even the sky overhead looked lighter, brighter to him. Maybe it was just that he rarely ventured from Darktown, or maybe Sundermount really was that beautiful. Either way he let himself enjoy it, to revel in it. It was a rare treat for him to be able to leave Darktown and wander the countryside freely without constantly being afraid the Templars would find him.

Searching for a clan of Dalish, he followed Hawke as they trekked up the mountain even engaging the small white hired woman in conversation periodically. It was hard for him to read her, to know what she was thinking or how she would respond. Sometimes it was nothing but teasing words and innuendo and other times she seemed much more interested in what he was thinking. By her biting wit and sly smiles he got the impression that she was a smart woman but it definitely wasn’t the impression she gave most of the world. 

Her smiles were frequent and he found he enjoyed all of them, even those garnered at his own expense. Mostly she spoke with her sister, teasing the younger girl a bit or just making her laugh. Her bond to her sister surprised him; it wasn’t something he would have imagined had he not seen it himself. Hawke was always quick with a smart comment or a laugh while Bethany seemed much more serious. But the younger Hawke seemed relaxed away from the pressures of the city.

Varric was mostly silent and Anders felt the dwarf’s eyes on him every so often. He would ignore it for a time before turning to see if there was something that perhaps Varric wanted. As the sun reached its zenith on their second day he moved closer to Varric. “Instead of wondering and worrying, just ask.”

Varric watched him silently for a few more minutes before he spoke. “I’m not sure what I want to ask yet. I thought I did after we left the Chantry, but now I watch you and…well I’m not sure.”

“When you decide I’ll be as honest as I can, so do yourself a favor and don’t ask anything you don’t really want to know.” He kept his tone light, casual though inside he was worried. What would Varric think of him, would he turn Anders in?

Varric chuckled, “Thanks for the warning, Blondie.”

Anders raised a brow inquisitively, “Blondie?”

Varric just smiled.

Having pulled his attention away from the task at hand as long as he could he finally thought again about what they were doing up on the mountain. The group was looking for a clan of Dalish Elves so Hawke could deliver an amulet to them. Anders, though grateful to be away from Kirkwall, was less than thrilled to be looking for the elves. His experiences with the Dalish had never been what you would consider good. 

Velanna had been a right bitch. As soon as the thought crossed his mind he felt a pang of guilt. Velanna had been a damned good Warden as well as a damned good mage. Her knowledge had probably saved Zevran and Sareyna’s lives, and had at the very least saved them from serious harm from their dreams. And the woman’s spells had saved Anders and Zevran from certain death during the battle with the Darkspawn at the Keep, a battle where she had presumably given her life to defend the Keep. The least he could do was show a little respect for the dead, or the presumed dead.

He glanced up and looked around, still not seeing any signs of an encampment. Chances were the Dalish would be long gone. It had been a little over a year since she had been in Lothering, but Hawke had promised to deliver the strange amulet and she was determined to do it.

As the sun started to set Hawke’s sharp eyes spotted smoke, they all quickened their pace and found themselves at the Dalish encampment before dark. The Dalish were as pleasant as he remembered, telling them to leave before they had even stated their business.

Thankfully, they had been told the Keeper was waiting for Hawke’s arrival and the elves eventually let them pass. They found the Keeper towards the back of the encampment staring thoughtfully into a fire, worry lines creasing her brow. As Hawke approached she looked up and the lines smoothed out in favor of a small smile that didn’t quite reach the woman’s eyes.

“Let me get a look at you?” The Keeper’s voice was gentle and instantly reminded Anders of a grandmother. She stepped close to Hawke and looked her over carefully. Something flickered in the Keeper’s gaze and then was gone; her voice as she spoke sounded a little strained. “There is a light in your heart, human. Don’t let it go out, you will need it.”

Anders raised a brow, curious, that had certainly sounded ominous. And he didn’t like how the Keeper was looking at Hawke, like she was confused and wasn’t sure what to make of her. Perhaps, it was just that she wasn’t used to humans. He really didn’t believe that was the case, her name was familiar to him so she must have had some contact with people, but he remained quiet as the Keeper spoke again.

“Tell me how this burden fell to you, child.” And now he could hear the sadness in her voice.

“Is this amulet magic, I mean what exactly is it?” Hawke momentarily seemed to ignore the Keeper’s question as she turned the amulet back and forth in her hand, looking at it from different angles. Anders watched as it seemed to catch the fire light giving it an eerie glow for a moment.

The Keeper’s eyes followed the amulet closely, Anders felt his gut tighten and twist. He very much wanted to drag them all away from the Keeper and out of the camp quickly. Taking a deep breath he tried to settle himself, their task was almost over afterall. Once it was concluded they could leave and set up camp away from whatever was going on with the Dalish and their Keeper.

“It is a promise child. Made by one whose word still has weight and therefore it has terrible power.” Her voice was filled with sorrow and a kind of longing. “There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept, remember that.”

Hawke was quiet for a moment and Anders noticed her spine straightened and her shoulders tensed, her fingers caressing a knife on the side of her belt. Perhaps, she felt the same unease as he did, though she still responded to the Keeper with humor. “A dragon fell from the sky, charred some Darkspawn, then asked me to bring you this amulet.” She shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance. “No big deal.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bethany cover her eyes with her hand and shake her head while Varric chuckled. She might not have fooled Anders, but Bethany and Varric at least didn’t seem to notice how tense Hawke was. His gaze held on the Keeper waiting for a response, as the seconds ticked by he started gathering his power, not quite letting the lightning dance across his fingertips but he was close, so very close.

Hawke spared a glance back at him her eyes glancing to his fingers then back to his face with a small smile as if she knew what he was doing. His heart stumbled in his chest, tripping over itself in his confused emotions, the thought that she knew was exciting and terrifying. Most mages couldn’t even tell when he was about to cast. The Keeper’s attention remained focused on Hawke and when she turned back to face the Keeper she finally spoke up.

Her eyes dropped from Hawke’s face lingering near her boots. “You must be lucky.”

Hawke snorted, he was sure it was meant to be in amusement but all Anders heard was bitterness, the sound of it as well known to him as the lightning he had been casting since before he was taken to the Circle. As if the sound literally tugged on him he stepped forward stopping just a half step behind Hawke’s left shoulder, though he towered over her. If it came to it he would protect this woman who had pulled him from the dark and those she cared about.

Other than a quick glance to him Keeper Marethari didn’t react to his movement. Her gaze moved back to Hawke’s face. When she began to speak again it was softer than before, Justice shivered in delight in Anders head; he liked the idea that someone might be afraid of Anders. Anders snarled back, angry because that delight was exactly why Anders would spend his life alone isolated from anyone he could even call friend. Justice liked to cultivate fear in anyone he felt might pose a threat.

She didn’t look all that cowed to Anders anyway. Irritation flooded through him again making him grind his teeth when she informed Hawke that her end of the bargain wasn’t fulfilled as of yet. Apparently, Hawke still needed to cart the eerie amulet up the rest of the Maker forsaken mountain and perform some sort of ritual with it. 

Hawke scowled, “What are you talking about, is this some ritual you’re going to teach me?” 

“My First will go with you and she will perform the ritual. She is already on the path waiting for you.”

“First what?” Anders snapped, he couldn’t seem to control his annoyance, perhaps because he was tired, or maybe because his feet ached, more than likely though it was the fact that he felt like he was missing some vital piece of information.

Marethari didn’t look at him, irritating him further, instead she spoke to Hawke. “I believe your people would call her my apprentice.”

Hawke sighed long, slow and exaggerated then she turned to face him with a smirk. “Feel like taking a walk with me? I hear the mountain is beautiful this time of night.”

And just like that his anger and irritation were gone. He had no idea how she did it but she always seemed to know when he was wound up. Not that it was always a good thing, sometimes she just liked to wind him up more, but other times like now she did her best to calm him and the savage beast inside of him.

No smile touched his lips but he was sure the tension lines that had been around his mouth had softened. “Sure,” he jerked his head towards where Bethany and Varric stood. “Do we have to bring the kids?”

Her eyes shone in the firelight and she giggled, and sweet Maker he liked that sound. Not a girlish twitter or a vapid sound just unabashedly amused. And while she was giggling her sister was making a disgusted huff. Varric just smiled and shook his head. Maybe the fresh air was getting to him, he usually tried to refrain from teasing Hawke back, she didn’t need any encouragement to flirt.

He hoped the trek up the rest of the mountain would be short, it was dark and he was tired and aching. It had been a while since he had done any serious travelling by foot and his feet were killing him. As they started up the trail he hoped that if the hike was too far someone would ask Hawke to stop for the night. He tossed a hopeful glance to Varric who was now scowling and to Bethany who was covered in sweat, it would be better if one of them asked, they had both known Hawke longer.

Less than a hundred yards further up the mountain they came upon the Keeper’s apprentice and he became hopeful that this would indeed be a short trip. The girl was slight, even for an elf, almost frail looking and like most elves she looked impossibly young, though she was probably older than he was. Zevran had looked to be Anders’ age but had turned out to be much, much older. A flicker of pain shot through him at the thought. _“Not me, another man, another life.”_ He reminded himself.

Studying the girl again he took stock trying to see if there were any reasons for him to worry. Her short brown hair looked almost black in the dim light of his wisp. She wore it tucked behind her long pointed delicate looking ears and her Vallaslin was dark, so it was probably fairly new. He might have been wrong about her age she might have just reached adulthood in the last few years. She introduced herself as Merrill and something about her rubbed Anders the wrong way immediately.

Maybe it was the way she babbled or the way she seemed suddenly shifty when Hawke asked if she had heard a strange noise a noise, coincidentally, the rest of them had all heard like a dozen whispers all at the same time. Then again, it could just be he instinctively didn’t trust Dalish women; they were all crazy in his experience. As they travelled up the mountain they learned that Merrill was also a mage, oddly it didn’t make him like her any better.

They came upon another elf, a man waiting impatiently by a campfire in a clearing. On seeing Merrill he stood and came close enough that everyone could see the barely contained disgust on his face. That was certainly interesting. “So, the Keeper finally found someone to take you from here.” His voice dripped venom.

“Yes,” Merrill’s eyes were defiant and she held her back straight but he heard the tremor in her voice.

“Good,” the elf snapped before he turned to Hawke, “complete your task Shemlen,” again that disgust, “we cannot be rid of this one too soon.”

Hawke cocked an eyebrow and watched the elven man stomping down the mountain. She shook her head and smirked, “Such a sweet man wishing us a safe and speedy journey.”

Varric snorted, “Did I miss the safe part?”

“Are they always this angry?” Bethany asked quietly.

“Yes,” Anders responded.

Merrill chimed in at the same time. “No.”

Sekhmet fixed him with her crystalline blue eyes the challenge there clear, “Have a lot of experience with the Dalish do you?”

“More than most humans,” and it was true, most never saw a single Dalish.

Hawke regarded him and he braced himself for an argument but none came. She just nodded and turned back to Merrill. He had no idea why he was always expecting an argument from her, maybe just because he never really knew what she was thinking. It was hard to imagine she pictured him naked half as often as she claimed she did. 

And why would she with his dingy hair that had been angrily chopped at when Justice had complained one too many times about his vanity. His vanity, Justice had certainly broken him of that little habit. He could barely stand to look at himself anymore. Sallow skin on a frame withering from constant hunger, on his thinner face his long nose looked like a blade. His lips were constantly chapped from him chewing on them and dark circles had taken up permanent residence under his eyes. He might have been handsome once, but no longer. He had no illusions about that, but he appreciated her flattery nonetheless.

Merrill, clearly in a hurry moved in front of them crossing the clearing quickly and he prepared to follow, further up this mountain that seemed to reach higher than the clouds themselves. Hawke’s hand grabbed onto his wrist and he had to stop himself from shivering. Skin to skin contact was a rarity for Anders and he just let himself enjoy it ignoring Justice’s complaints.

“Hey, wait up. It’s getting pretty dark and there’s already a fire here. Let’s call it a night and we’ll head up in the morning.” Her voice carried easily across the clearing.

Merrill stopped though she looked panicked, “It’s not a good idea to keep Asha’bellanar waiting.”

“Look Merrill, I understand, but I’m not going to get lost in the dark and fall off a mountain for anyone. Not even a scary witch,” Still friendly, but there was steel in it this time.  
Argue some more, she’s still touching me, so good, so warm, calloused and small, much smaller when compared to his hands. He stayed perfectly still, perhaps she had forgotten she had a hold of him and if he didn’t move she would leave her hand there longer. Opening eyes he hadn’t realized he had closed, he looked down at her. 

That smirk on her lips again, she slowly slid her hand down, fingers slipping over the back of his hand until she squeezed his fingers softly. She knew, knew how much he was enjoying her touch. Got to learn to be careful, he always felt vulnerable and a little needy around her. It would only bring disaster on them both.

When she finally let go of his hand he quickly sat down and began removing his boots before anyone could argue otherwise. Merrill seemed upset, just standing there for a long time but she didn’t argue. Varric and Bethany looked as relieved as he felt. Being touched was nice but he was tired and sore. With his boots off he cast a quick heal on his aching feet. He turned to the others, no reason not to be friendly “Anyone need healing?”

Varric nodded and sighed gratefully as his magic settled over him. “And I thought I was in pretty good shape.” The dwarf chuckled.

Bethany had pulled her boots off as well and was reclining back on her elbows, looking completely exhausted. “Sekhmet never gets tired; I swear she could walk for a week straight and still be whistling.” The look she gave her sister was part resentment and part pride. He let a quick heal settle over her, as well as a very small rejuvenation, poor thing looked beyond exhausted.

Hawke settled down on the ground between him and Varric, “Actually, I was going to ask for a little healing myself. My back is aching and my feet are killing me. I was just hoping we could get this over with today. But this fire was just too good to pass up.”

Not really thinking about it he grabbed at her laces and started pulling them free. He caught himself but untied them anyway it would look odd if he suddenly stopped. She was watching, he could feel it, it felt almost as good as her skin had. When he pulled her boots and socks off she flexed her foot wiggling her toes. Seizing the opportunity he gripped her right foot lightly and put gentle pressure on the arch. 

She moaned arching her back, the picture of erotic bliss. His mouth went completely dry; he had barely touched her, what would she be like if he tasted her sex. Nothing he did shook that image from his head; he was heading into very dangerous waters.

“Sweet Maker Anders, your hands are amazing. Keep this up and I’ll be climbing into your bedroll tonight.”

He dropped her foot, too much, it was too much, too intimate. Justice was right, he mustn’t touch her. Teasing, she’s only teasing he told himself, but he had heard a kernel of truth in her voice. She really was thinking about crawling into his bedroll. And much as he would enjoy bedding her he wouldn’t let Justice hurt her.

She gave him a surprised look and pain flickered in her eyes for a moment then was gone just as fast. “Wow, I had no idea I was so repugnant.” She quipped, the humor falling a little flat.

He had hurt her, but it was better to hurt her feelings than to let Justice hurt her, or worse. Instead of responding he pulled his waterskin from his belt and took a long pull on it. What he wouldn’t have given for something stronger, much, much stronger. Justice was still babbling away in his head and he let himself be distracted by the chatter.

Everyone else pulled out their bedrolls, the general consensus that it was too dark to try to set up their tents. Hawke was seated on hers; she had been quiet for a while watching Merrill who was nervously picking at her clothes. She hadn’t spoken again, but kept looking up the path. He still couldn’t put his finger on why he didn’t like her.

Hawke finally spoke to her. “Did you want to share a bedroll with me Merrill? I won’t bite.”

He watched as Merrill looked longingly at Hawke before glancing back at the ground. Wow, that surprised the Void out of him; the little thing was lusting after Hawke? Where were these women before he had merged with Justice? 

It was like fate was being deliberately cruel throwing all of these women, who didn’t seem to care who they found attractive, into his life only after he could no longer properly appreciate them. A little flicker of jealousy rushed through his blood. Not because of Hawke of course, but because they were still free to bed whoever they wanted.

Merrill shook her head, “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. It’s a warm night and I’m used to sleeping under the stars.” He almost smiled, she really wanted to bunk down with Hawke, but was more afraid of her. And why did that make him feel good?

Hawke shrugged and snuggled down, clearly not caring one way or another, which also made him feel good. She might not really want him, but she didn’t want anyone else either. “Suit yourself.”

He stared into the sky at the thousands of stars over head and tried not to let his mind wander too much. The night sky often made him think of ‘Reyna and sometimes Zevran and Alistair. It was hard not to think about all of the times he had spent the night in the middle of nowhere with the Wardens or star gazing with ‘Reyna or Zev. He missed them more than he liked to admit. He hadn’t even had a good laugh since Zevran had left with Sareyna and Alistair.

And now he never would, his own anger coming back to bite him in the ass. It was nights like tonight that he was glad he knew the truth about the “Maker” otherwise he might think the man had a personal vendetta against him. He spared a second for Morrigan before pushing her from his mind, he wasn’t the only one with problems and it was good to remember that. Poor girl, he still looked for her from time to time, but had lost hope a long time ago. 

Right, the night sky, beautiful as it was, only held bad memories for him. Rolling onto his side he caught Hawke looking at him. “What?” His voice sounded a little terse, but she had surprised him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” She asked, unconcerned by his tone of voice.

He shrugged another unpleasant topic, “I don’t need much sleep since Justice.”

Her hair was loose, and the white took on tones of orange from the fire and blues from the moonlight. Fire and Ice. “Yet, you always look exhausted.” 

He tore his gaze from her hair to answer her, sort of. “Do I?”

Hawke nodded. 

Where was her smile he wondered? “It doesn’t add to my sexy tortured look?”

Hawke giggled, it was like music. “Well maybe the tortured part. You should take better care of yourself, Anders.”

This needed to stop, the idea that she cared for him, that she fancied him was foolish and he had to stop trying to read into everything she said. “You need to spend less time worrying about me; seems to me you have enough things to worry about as it is, with your family and all.”

She sat up a bit, eyes still fixed on him but more intently now. “Are you planning on staying in Kirkwall, Anders?”

He was confused by her question as well as her sudden intensity. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His heart ratcheted up when she licked her lower lip then shrugged, “I know that you said you came here for Karl, I was just wondering if now that he was gone you were planning on staying.”

Karl, he had nearly forgotten, it had only been a few weeks and he had nearly forgotten the man bewitched as his was by the woman in front of him. He pushed himself upright; pulling his knees up to his chest, lying down seemed too informal suddenly. “I have no plans on leaving. There are other reasons that I came here.”

“Like mages?” Her eyes were gleaming now, almost over bright.

Watching her he felt anxious even knowing Hawke’s feeling on mages and Templars. “And if that is one of the reasons?”

Hawke glanced around them, taking in their sleeping companions. He hadn’t realized they were the only two awake. She freed herself from her bedroll and jumped to her feet. “Come with me.”

Hesitantly, he stood and followed her, being alone with her was probably a bad idea, but he did it anyways. When they were out of sight of their little makeshift campsite she slowed. “Where are we going?” He asked, wondering what exactly she wanted with him.

She stopped and turned to him, “I just don’t want to wake them up.” she soothed.

“Alright.” He was willing to play along for a bit, but the look she had given her sister told him it was more than she didn’t want to wake anyone up.

“If you’re here to help the mages, let me help you.” Her voice was surprisingly earnest as was her expression.

That honestly was not what he had been expecting, not that he had been expecting anything. “I’m a healer, Hawke.” He wasn’t even completely sure where to start yet. He had been so set on making sure the Wardens weren’t after him and setting up his clinic he hadn’t come up with a plan beyond saving Karl, which he had failed spectacularly at.

She licked her lips again and stepped forward closing a bit of the distance between them. “You told me that you wanted to help free the mages. It was why you and Justice merged. Let me help.” He could hear the first notes of annoyance in her voice. 

“Aren’t you busy enough trying to raise money for the expedition?” He felt his own annoyance rising, not completely sure why but she acted like it was such a simple thing; just let her help like it wouldn’t entail all sorts of complications for both of them. “Why do you want to help me?” He wasn’t a toy for her amusement; there were things he needed to do. When the time came when he had a plan he didn’t want someone giving a half assed effort to help him, a half hearted commitment in these things could get people killed.

Her eyes flicked back and forth over his face, still over bright before she abruptly turned away from him as if she didn’t want to look at him. Was she planning on lying to him? When she spoke he realized she didn’t want him to see her face. He didn’t need to see her face; he heard the pain in her voice. “I made a promise to my father not long before he died.”

“You promised your father to free mages?” It seemed an odd thing to promise and even more strange if her father had actually asked it of her.

She shook her head, her back still to him. “I promised to keep Bethany free, no matter what.”

He wanted to comfort her but had a feeling she would just resent him for it. “You don’t need to free all mages to do that.”

She turned back to face him, her eyes were glistening but she hadn’t shed any tears. “My father hated the Circle . I spent most of my life listening to him talk about it, about being treated as less than human, about being caged like a criminal forever just for being born. He told me once when I was little that the Templars expected mages to never experience anger or love. Mages were supposed to be content with their lot in life and be grateful for being allowed to exist at all. And from what you’ve told me, he was right. So why should I stand back and leave all of those mages locked up while Bethany is free?” There was so much anger in her voice it reminded him of those last days before he and Justice had bonded.

He sighed, “Now you sound like Justice.”

“Is he wrong?” She retorted a little hotly, her anger pointed at him now.

“If he was I wouldn’t be here.” The words came slowly, and a bit reluctantly. 

“Then let me help.” The anger already gone again, he would need to be careful with her, she was a bit capricious.

A slow deep breath through his nose while he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing yet so he stalled. “Let me think about it.”

She nodded, seemingly mollified. “Come on, let’s get back. I’m getting cold.” She held out her hand to him.

He wanted to take it, he really did but he had already been far too intimate with her today. Being very ungentlemanly he passed her and moved towards their camp. Once in their bedrolls she returned to staring at the fire and he to watching the stars. Hours seemed to pass and he was sure he would get no sleep at all but he must have eventually drifted off because he jerked awake when someone grabbed his arm.

Hawke’s yelp shook off the fog of sleep and he pulled back the lightning spell quickly. He jerked upright, “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He was mortified.

She chuckled, “I’m fine, that’ll teach me to disturb your beauty sleep.” She tossed a small cloth bag to him. “Have a snack; we’re heading out in a few.”

“Roasted hazelnuts? Thanks.” He grabbed a handful and popped them into his mouth, he was rather hungry, though wasn’t he always? The group packed everything up quickly and resumed their trek up the mountain and he felt glad. As much as he liked being out of Kirkwall and enjoying the beautiful views of the mountain, something felt wrong on this particular mountain.

They had only been on the move for a little over an hour when they came to a magical barrier blocking the path. He felt his stomach tighten into a knot, the higher they climbed the more it seemed that the Dalish Keeper hadn’t told them everything. Beside him Hawke practically hummed with tension, probably feeling the same way about the situation as he did.

And the longer they were with Merrill the more he was certain he didn’t trust her at all. She made his skin crawl; she was too quiet and spent too much time staring at Hawke. That was when she wasn’t apologizing for the horrendous behavior of the rest of the elves they came across on the way up. When she stepped up to the barrier he felt his muscles pulling tight. He gripped his staff ready to pull it free and use it at a moment’s notice. Justice was screaming in his head that they were in danger.

“I can get us through, just a moment.” And suddenly the apologetic elf seemed full of confidence making him believe Justice.

He couldn’t help himself, he gripped Hawke’s upper arm and dragged her back a few steps not wanting her to take the brunt of whatever was coming. Hawke nodded to him, signaling she understood why he moved her and he was glad, he didn’t want to try to explain it. Before she had even come to a standstill his eyes snapped back to Merrill as the feel of summoning magic danced along his skin. 

His gut clenched again and he felt anger, his and Justice’s, flare bright within him. “That was a summoning. That takes blood magic, are you crazy?” He spat at her, working hard to hold himself in check even as he swung his staff free.

“Yes, but the spirit helped us.” She looked surprised at his outburst.

He was about to ask her how she could be so blind, so stupid, but Hawke beat him to the punch.

“Sure, demons are very helpful…right up until they take your mind and turn you into a monster.” Her tone was only half joking and the rigid posture of her body made her feelings on the matter clear.

He had taken a half step forward, not sure of what he was going to do other than get rid of Merrill. Hawke moved in front of him, clearly blocking his path. So instead he just clenched his jaw when the elf spouted more empty assurances. They always did, blood mages always thought they were going to be different from everyone else. That even when the most powerful and diligent of mages fell victim to a demon’s pull, they would somehow beat them. 

He had no desire to argue with the elf, Maker knew they never listened anyway. What he wanted was to get this stupid rite over with, get off this Maker forsaken mountain and away from the crazy blood mage. None of them needed a blood mage in their life, no matter how innocent she appeared.

“Enough Merrill, we’re here for a reason. Let’s finish this already.” Hawke’s posture looked relaxed but he saw how she was gripping her daggers, she was angry.

Silently, and still seething, he and the others followed Merrill to the altar; it only took a few moments for her to perform the rite. There was a brilliant flash of yellow light and Anders cringed, he had a sudden sinking feeling in his gut, now what had they unleashed and why did that light seem familiar somehow. 

He was surprised, and not pleasantly so, to see Flemeth. He should have remembered that one of her many names was Asha’bellanar. The witch didn’t seem to share his surprise however, she just gave him a small smile before turning her whole attention to Hawke. “So refreshing to see someone keep their end of a bargain.”

Merrill appeared to be absolutely terrified of Flemeth, bowing low enough he thought her nose might actually touch the ground. Granted she was probably right to be afraid, he knew that well enough, but she could have at least pretended to have some courage. As far as Hawke, the woman didn’t seem to know the meaning of fear. And as he saw Flemeth looking at Hawke fondly he couldn’t decide himself whether to be worried or relieved.

Hawke scowled at Flemeth, “We had a deal and I honor my word.”

“A rare trait these days,” Flemeth responded.

“Although, you said I was carrying an amulet, not smuggling you.” How could she be amused? Didn’t she know how dangerous Flemeth was?

A ghost of a smile touched Flemeth’s lips, “Just a piece of me. A bit of security should the inevitable occur.” At this she flicked her gaze to him again and he tried his best not to react to her.

Hawke seemed to catch the glance and turned to him as well, “You know her?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond. “We’ve never specifically met but I know of him.”

He watched Hawke shift her weight to the other foot, her voice no longer amused. “And what do you know of him?”

If he didn’t know better he would say she sounded jealous. Of Flemeth, that was absurd. Flemeth’s gaze found him again, amusement clear on her face. She opened her mouth and was speaking but he heard something completely different from what she was saying out loud. 

_“She’s beautiful is she not my mageling prince? And see how she already adores you. Don’t fret so over me, trust me you’ll have your hands full with her. And for now I’m willing to forget that you’re one of the few creatures that are actually a threat to me. Especially, now that you have a burning desire for…Justice.”_

He tried to ignore her and when he couldn’t shut out her voice he pictured Morrigan lying still as death in that small room at the back of Eveleen’s house. It brought a surge of anger with it and set Justice snarling at the witch. She laughed but her voice receded, it was the first time in months he had been glad for Justice.

He had no idea how she had known about him and Justice. When last he had seen her, he had been himself, his old self. And Hawke had said she had been carrying that amulet around for over a year, long before he had ever met Flemeth. He wouldn’t make himself crazy trying to figure it out, Flemeth was a mystery, one that would probably never be solved.

Flemeth turned back to Hawke her smile faded and she began speaking cryptically as she was wont to do. Something about the way she stared at Hawke was extremely unsettling. Maybe he was just thinking about the last time he had seen Flemeth when she had first mentioned a woman for him, a woman and an important destiny. 

He realized then that he wouldn’t be able to get her out of his life completely. As long as Flemeth was free he would worry about Hawke, about what the witch had planned for her. His life was already a mess, there wasn’t enough left of it for Flemeth to make a mess of.

Hawke continued to peer at Flemeth curiously. “Are you some sort of vision?” She asked when there was a brief lull in Flemeth’s speech.

Flemeth laughed, a rich sound all the way from her toes. “Must I be in only one place? Bodies are such limiting things.” She seemed to look through Hawke as she continued, her voice taking on a nearly hypnotic cadence. “I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole. A bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm.”

“A fragment?” Hawke arched a brow.

Flemeth walked up to her, and Anders took a few steps closer. Flemeth ignored him keeping her focus on Hawke. “You don’t need to understand child. Know only that you may have saved my life just as I once saved yours. An even trade, I think.”

Hawke sighed, clearly giving up on trying to make sense of Flemeth’s rambling, he could appreciate that feeling. “You have plans I take it?”

“Destiny awaits us both dear girl. We have much to do.” She looked Hawke over again and canted her head to the side, her sharp eyes likely taking in every detail of Hawke. “But before I go, a word of advice.” She turned from them looking out over the valley below them, her voice taking on the slightest tone of urgency that made his skin crawl. “We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment…and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap.” She turned back to them, eyes fixed suddenly on both him and Hawke. Her eyes seemed to almost glow for a moment when she spoke again. “It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.” As she spoke he heard the words echoed in his head, apparently she wanted to make sure he heard them.

Bethany’s quiet words echoed his own feelings. “We’re going to regret bringing her here.”

Flemeth’s eyes slowly dragged away from him and Hawke to settle for the first time on Bethany and he watched as a subtle sadness settled over the witch. “Regret is something I know well.” Her voice had suddenly become very quiet, what sounded like real sadness threaded through it, “Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poison’s your soul.” Her voice became little more than a rough whisper. “When it comes time for your regrets, remember me.” A pause while she held Bethany’s gaze for a moment. Bethany wasn’t able to hold it and glanced down breaking the contact.

Flemeth seemed to suddenly notice Merrill “As for you child,” her voice once again more strident, though not quite in admonishment, “step carefully, no path is darker than when your eyes are shut.”

Merrill gave the witch a queer look before bowing yet again. “Ma serannas, Asha’bellanar.”

He almost shook his head; she feared Flemeth but wouldn’t listen to even her. A demon apparently already had its claws embedded deep in her psyche. She thought she knew better than everyone else, most likely a pride demon then.

Suddenly, the witch seemed eager to leave. Striding back to Hawke, Flemeth’s voice returned to normal, “You have my thanks,” She looked Hawke over carefully again before continuing, her eyes glowing briefly for a second. “And my sympathy.” 

Then her gaze moved to settle on him for a moment and that ghost of a smile touched her lips again, “We still dream of you.” A sensual laugh echoed through his head on the heels of her words. “Each time you doubt her you will both suffer for it.” She turned away from them, a shower of yellow light shifting into a dragon before she leapt flying off into the clouds and out of their sight.

They all stood there in shocked silence for several minutes before Hawke turned away from the altar, “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” He couldn’t agree more.

**********

On the two day trip back down the mountain his mind was kept busy flowing back and forth between problems. Flemeth’s words were making it difficult not to think of Hawke, having all but said he was destined to be with her. When he was able to stop thinking about it he instead worried about her parting comments, by ‘her’ had she meant Hawke as well? And what was she talking about an abyss?

As if Flemeth wasn’t enough to occupy his mind Merrill had been sent back to Kirkwall with them. He would need to speak to Hawke about it, as soon as they reached the city they all needed to get away from the elf and stay away from her. She wanted to be in Kirkwall she would have to make it on her own. Their lives were already difficult enough.

Occasionally he was distracted by Hawke’s flirting and Bethany’s blushes. He wasn’t sure whether to welcome them because they distracted him or fear them. He was starting to suspect Bethany, unlike her sister, was actually interested in him. Her blushes when she spoke to him or caught her staring at him certainly made it seem that way. Hawke kept up her incessant flirting and he was losing the battle of ignoring her. The trip back seemed very long.

Hawke stopped abruptly to adjust the buckle on one of her boots. When she stood up, she spun around quickly and grinned at him. “Enjoying the view?”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning and raised his eyebrow in feigned innocence, considering that had been exactly what he had been doing. The leather of her armor cupped her ass beautifully. Varric and Merrill were both amused, while Bethany seemed terribly embarrassed, which only seemed to spur Hawke on more, poor girl.  
“Maybe you should be walking in front. And…it’s awfully hot today, why don’t you take off that coat?” She teased him gently, and he let himself enjoy the small bit of flattery.

“Sekhmet,” Bethany hissed, shooting him an apologetic look.

Merrill giggled and Hawke turned to look at her, “I think Merrill agrees with me.” And just like that his amusement was gone, evaporated on the blood mage’s laughter.  
He rolled his eyes and did take the lead, but left his, thankfully, long coat firmly in place.

“Pah, you’re no fun Anders.” 

He could almost see her mock pout, but just shrugged and kept walking. He wondered briefly to himself, not for the first time, if her flirting was just to amuse herself or if she was genuinely attracted to him. It was likely she was just amusing herself at his expense.

Though, she was relentless enough; every time he turned around she was flirting with him or touching him in some small way, making his heart race at each contact. And there was a wildness to her that drew him to her against his better judgment. He always liked passionate women, though none he had known came near to Hawke. There were no half measures with the woman.

As for the flirting, not even the women in the Circle, or the men for that matter, were as brazen as she was and he had to admit, part of him liked the attention. The other part of him realized what he looked like now and kept him grounded, at least partially, in reality. Spending a few days in his clinic without following Hawke around for a few days would be good for him. All he had to do was get back there.


	5. Heart Sick

Sekhmet watched the young man angrily tack a notice to the Chanter’s Board while arguing with the Grand Cleric. Not sure whether to be amused or horrified she kept watching. When he turned to walk away he had the most startling teal colored eyes, made all the more vivid by his tanned skin. That boy could definitely break some hearts with that accent and those pretty eyes.

His walk spoke of a man born to power, back straight shoulders back, eyes forward. How long did nobility practice each day to learn that haughty gait? It seemed they all had it. Yet, here was the Grand Cleric pulling the notice off the board and scolding the young man as one would a boy. 

The Grand Cleric addressed him familiarly instead of with a proper title, perhaps he had lost his recently? Whatever the case he still acted like a noble, a spoiled one at that. She couldn’t believe it when he shot the notice out of the Grand Cleric’s hands, pinning it back to the board with an arrow. What kind of man knowingly shot at the Grand Cleric in broad day light? She was so surprised she barely heard what he was saying, just continued to watch him as he stomped away angrily.

“Close your mouth Hawke, you’re attracting flies.” His voice was mostly teasing but she was surprised to hear the underlying annoyance in Anders’ voice.

What was his problem? He could barely tolerate her most days. “Oh come on Anders, are you telling me you didn’t hear that accent, didn’t see those eyes?”

“Is there a man in Kirkwall that you’re not attracted too?” He asked, a bit more snappishly.

Right, there was more than a little alpha male left inside Anders; she forgot that all too often. No matter she could have a little fun. She smirked at him; it was so easy to wind him up sometimes. “I’m sure there’s at least one or two.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Sweet Anders still had no idea that he really was the only man she had designs on. She liked to flirt and could appreciate a good looking man without necessarily being attracted to him. But Anders had his hooks in her, she found herself completely in his thrall no matter how much she liked to play the vixen. It was safer that way. 

She gripped the loose end of his belt and tugged him a little closer to her. Batting her eyelashes in an overly exaggerated manner she spoke in a low, husky purr. “I’m still holding out for a tall, blonde apostate with a killer smile.”

It wasn’t a full blown smile, just a small curling of his lips and a look of satisfaction on his face, but it was nice. He might not actually be attracted to her, but he was still a man and therefore still had an ego. And she wasn’t above appealing to it.

Bethany huffed behind them, “You do realize she’s playing with you right? Winding you up so she can make you smile when she flirts with you again.” She should probably feel bad that Bethany kept getting caught in the middle of her playing with Anders, but honestly she thought Anders was way out of Bethany’s league, her own too.

Whatever he was now, the man had a history and she just knew it was filled with fire. He was like banked coals waiting to be stirred back to life. She was determined to be the one to bring that fire back to life even if she got burned in the process. Bethany would want to control him and his fire. She just wanted to see the blaze, to feel its warmth.

She felt his gaze as he studied her and waited for him to scold her or make accusations instead he just shrugged. “I’m not worried about a little teasing between friends.”

Surprised, she smiled and it was smug. She was being so childish but everytime Anders sided with her over Bethany it felt like a small victory. If Anders ever gave up his little ‘I’ll hurt you’ rant and decided to choose one of the Hawke sisters she wasn’t sure she would be able to step aside gracefully if he chose Beth. She wasn’t getting any younger; most women her age were already married with children. Bethany was young and had plenty of time to find another suitor.

She frowned, since when was she worried about marriage and getting old? She was young and vibrant. She had no need for a man in her life, never had before. And she would give Beth anything, anything at all to make sure she was happy. If her sister needed Anders she would have to try to find a way to be happy for them.

Anders interrupted her thoughts. “Hawke?”

She shook her head, “Sorry, my mind was wandering.” She flashed him another smile, “Now let’s check out the board and see if there’s any money to be made.”

********

Sekhmet cursed the rain, not a drop for months, but as soon as she had dragged everyone out of Kirkwall the skies had opened up and a heavy rain had begun to fall. The air was thick; humid, it felt cold and clammy against her already chilled skin. Today her body was tired and achy. Sleeping in the rain, only her tent for protection, the damp seeped into her bones. Even the bright Kirkwall sun, which had finally peeked out from the clouds, wasn’t able to warm her though it seemed to brand itself painfully in her eyes.

It should be warm, in fact she was sweating rivers, but she felt as if Anders had hit her with Winter’s grasp. Not wanting the others to see something was wrong she struggled not to let her teeth chatter but suspected it wouldn’t matter. Anders, Varric and even her sister kept giving her concerned looks confirming her suspicion that she looked as terrible as she felt. Normally, she would be furious that people saw her like this, disheveled and not completely in control. She ‘handled’ things; it was her job and a huge chunk of how she defined herself.

Anders was practically hovering over her and she couldn’t even drum up the energy to tease him. It was oddly comforting having someone watching over her for a change. If the man wasn’t careful he’d end up not just with a teasing friend, but with a woman who was truly smitten. 

Her thoughts seized like a rusted wheel. Wait, what? Smitten? Her? No, she wasn’t the type to go all doe eyed over men. She had to clear her head; her fatigued heavy lids slid closed when she gave it a little shake, it felt like it was full of wool. 

Thoughts were slow and tangled as she looked up at Anders again. Had he had moved even closer to her? His brow furrowed as he looked down at her, ready to chastise her at any moment. It wouldn’t be the first time, seemed to be everyone’s favorite past time. _“Yes, ‘Sekhmet the Screw Up’ that’s me, at your service.”_ She almost did a little bow as she giggled at the thought. 

Or maybe, ‘Sekhmet the Disappointment’ would be more appropriate. Heaviness sank into her and she quickly looked away from him, eyes fixed on the ground as she trudged forward. That thought had certainly sucked the wind right out of her sails. Her thoughts flitted to Carver and she sucked in a breath, blinking back tears. That day played over and over again in her mind, she should have moved, should have shoved him out of the way.

And that one thought niggled in the back of her mind, peeking in when she least expected it. Had she let him die? It wasn’t that she didn’t love him. She did, had spent time beyond counting trying to make him proud of her, trying to find forgiveness for what she had done. Always there was that bitterness and disappointment in his eyes, even betrayal. It had hurt, had burned inside her for two years before she hadn’t been able to take it anymore and had slipped away during the night. But she had loved him deeply; she couldn’t have let him die, could she? 

The pain and doubt opened a chasm inside of her, yawning wide and sucking in all the light and joy she knew. Why hadn’t she saved him? Why hadn’t she saved papa? Her throat was tightening with emotion and her chest felt like a sucking wound. She wanted to howl out her pain and her grief but with her throat constricted all that came out was quiet squeak. Her voice as useless and ineffectual as her weapons and fighting in the face of saving those she loved.

Anders touched her shoulder gently; she had stopped moving during her spate of self doubt. Her cheeks suffused with heat and she turned her face away. She fought the urge to look at Bethany and Varric, to determine how much of her lapse they had seen, but Anders’ eyes were still on her. She would not let them see how lost she felt. Instead, she focused on the ground in front of her feet moving quickly one in front of the other as she listened for danger. They had only moved a few steps before she had to stop again. Taking a breath she looked up at Anders who was standing a bit closer to her yet again. The man was going to think she was crazy, and maybe she was because she had no idea why they were out here.

Her skin prickled as the sounds from a battle reached her ears saving her from making the embarrassing admission. Picking up to a run, her legs feeling like lead, they found a group of men, one of which was a dwarf, being attacked by large spiders. Tyr ran ahead and tackled one, jaws snapping and snarling.

A happy smile graced her lips, she loved that dog, he never asked for anything more than love. And he gave her unconditional love in return. His eyes never showed the disappointment she saw in so many others, never accusatory and never angry. No, Tyr was the perfect man, he even let her snuggle him whenever she wanted.

Lost in thought, her limbs moving as if through deep water, she didn’t see the spider leaping at her from the left. Thankfully, Anders was still looking out for her and froze it solid. Its heavy form hit the ground and shattered before it reached her. With another flush of embarrassment, she gave him a quick nod of gratitude and tried to turn her mind to the matter at hand. While it was a struggle to keep her concentration she was able to lend a hand and help end the skirmish quickly.

The dwarf strolled over to them, deciding that Sekhmet was the one to talk to he opened his mouth to speak. “Now you’re what a man needs.” His gaze travelled over her and then Bethany. It made her skin crawl. He was oily, sleazy and she didn’t like him. 

“Varric?” She gestured vaguely at the dwarf. Flashing her a look that said ‘gee, thanks’ he went to speak with the man.

It was just as well because as soon as she stepped away from the conversation Anders was on her heels. “What’s wrong with you and don’t tell me you’re fine.”

She managed a smirk, “Alright, I’m amazing?”

This earned a scowl from Anders but a round of giggles from Bethany.

“And what would have happened if I wasn’t paying attention to you?” His voice was low, but the irritation carried clearly.

“I would be very sad if you didn’t think I was worth paying attention to.” Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. That earned her a glare from Anders and another fit of giggles from Bethany.

“You think this is funny? You could have been hurt.” The raw anger she heard gave her pause for a moment.

Before he could sense her weakness she shrugged nonchalantly. “Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

He ground his teeth once before he huffed angrily and became sullen. Although he kept hovering over her she thought he was kind of cute when he pouted. Her sister wasn’t helping matters teasing him about how worried he was over nothing.

“Knowing her she probably got distracted looking at someone’s weapons. She’s like that, don’t worry so much.” She reached out to touch his back soothingly but he turned and hissed at her.

“There’s something wrong with her, Bethany. Do you want something to happen to her?”

Beth looked hurt for a moment but just sighed heavily and turned away waiting for Varric to finish whatever business the dwarf was trying to engage them in. The dwarf, Varric called him Javaris, and his remaining men left. The two dwarves had made a deal. She tried to listen to everything Varric was telling her but she couldn’t make herself pay attention. She badly needed sleep. The gist of it was simple enough though: go to the Wounded Coast, where they were already headed and kill some troublemakers, which they were also already planning on. At least now she knew why they were outside of Kirkwall and wouldn’t have to ask.

********

The last of the Flint Company Mercenaries on the Wounded Coast managed to catch her right arm, slicing her open from shoulder to elbow. Pivoting, while yanking the blade in her left hand free so she could kill the bastard, she was surprised by a furious yell from behind her. There was a flash of pale blue light and the mercenary simply exploded. 

As she stared dumbfounded she heard Anders running towards her, his long legs carrying him across the space almost before she realized it was him. His teeth were clenched as he let loose a sapphire ribbon of magic to re-knit the flayed flesh of her right arm. She knew she was staring at him but couldn’t help herself. Had that outburst come from Anders? Yeah, he had a big mouth on the battle field but he never lost his calm.

“Anders?” She asked hesitantly as he worked on her arm.

“What?” he grated.

“Was that you?” What was wrong with her that she was so pleased by his violent reaction to her injury?

“Was what me?” He knew, it was in his voice, it had been him. But would he admit it?

“The man who cut me, did you kill him?” Her eyes were fixed on him while she waited to see if he would answer.

Her arm healed, he stepped away from her. “That’s the fifth time in two days you’ve taken a serious injury. We’ve taken care of the Flint Company on Sundermount and here. We need to head back to the city.”

Deflecting? All, well it had been a pleasant thought while it lasted. “We’re already on the Wounded Coast we might as well take care of the Tal Vashoth.”

He held her eyes. “Then at least let me take care of you.”

She shook her head; they had been going over and over this for the last two days. “I’m not sick and we don’t have time to play Doctor.”

His eyes blazed at that and his lips pressed into a thin line. He resented it when she insinuated that his motives for healing her were less than pure. She still wasn’t sure if it was because he took it as an affront to his healing, or if his motives really were less than pure. As an optimist she liked to think it was the latter.

“Fine,” he growled, “then let’s get moving."

********

Anders reached out and grabbed Hawke’s arm when she stumbled again. He could smell the illness on her, was surprised that no one else seemed to. They didn’t even comment as her body’s obvious fatigue slowed them more and more. In the last two hours alone she had become increasingly unsteady on her feet, forcing Anders to walk beside her to keep her from face planting into the sand. 

When she turned to smile at him he tried not to recoil, her breath smelled of ammonia, her skin was covered in sweat and somehow even more pale than usual. There were high spots of color on each of her cheeks. Enough was enough; he wasn’t going to let her kill herself for the sake of expediency. He turned to Varric and Bethany, “We’re stopping.”

Hawke scowled at him, “Why are we stopping?”

“Because you’re obviously ill.” He braced himself, she was going to fight him, she always fought him.

“I’m fine.” She snapped.

“Yeah?” He released her arm and used his heel to drag a line in the dirt, “Walk this from end to end without stumbling and we’ll keep going.”

She glared at him. “This is absurd, Anders.”

Without a word he peeled her hood back from her head revealing her hair which was plastered to her head and hanging in limp, wet strands. She had been sweating profusely for hours but over the last hour he noticed she was sweating less and less. Maybe if he shocked Bethany and Varric enough they would help him convince her to take a break.

Thankfully, it had the desired effect. Bethany gasped and reached out to touch Sekhmet’s skin. “You’re burning up.”

“Of course I am, it’s the middle of the afternoon.” Hawke blasted her sister with her ire.

“It’s not that hot, sis. Please, let’s just stop.” Worry creased her brow and seemed to give Hawke pause. 

There was an advantage to knowing Hawke’s weak spot. She sighed heavily before turning back to him. “Fine, just fix it so we can get going.” Her tone was agitated as if it was his fault she was ill.

Relieved that she wasn’t going to just march herself into a grave he contented himself with the small victory, already planning his next move. A flicker of amusement tickled at him for a moment. Dealing with Hawke on any day was not unlike sparring or maybe a game like wicked grace or chess. She was…something.

Setting his pack down he lightly took her arm again, when she didn’t protest he steered her over to a tree and had her sit, resting against it. “It’s not that simple. I can get rid of whatever has made you ill but it will take your body a little time to get back to normal.” Planting seeds.

“What’s wrong with my body now?” Her voice was quiet and a little hurt, the question obviously just for him.

Nothing, he wanted to tell her, desperately wanted to tell her. Since the incident on Sundermount where he had dropped her foot like it was on fire she had been sensitive around him. Hyperaware of every touch and always wary as if she expected him to tell her she was hideous or some other ridiculous thing. Each time, like now he had the urge to soothe her. Instead, he focused on the real issue at hand. “The two biggest concerns are your fever and the fact that you’re becoming dehydrated.” He wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and licked his thumb ignoring everyone’s strange looks. No salty taste, that wasn’t good.

“Make a fire, start some stew she needs to eat something. And set up the tents, we’re not going anywhere today.” He issued orders over his shoulder, not bothering to check if they were doing as he asked. He had a patient to take care of, a surly one.

Her argument didn’t come, though she glared at him as if willing him to self immolate. Ignoring her death stare, a quick tug untied her waterskin from her hip. He pulled the cork free pushing the skin into her shaky hands before he checked her body over to see how sick she really was. His magic had barely touched her before he had to pull the waterskin away.

“Don’t down it like that, you’ll make yourself sick.” She was being deliberately difficult just to spite him, like a petulant child.

“I’m already sick according to you.” She mumbled, still glaring.

“Let’s not add vomiting to the mix, alright? Just a bit slower.” He reached up to pull a piece of sweat matted hair from her forehead, but pulled back. Must not touch her, he was getting too entangled today already.

She noticed him drawing back and smirked, “Only if you ask nice.”

With a heavy sigh of his own he gave her what she wanted. He could give her this small victory. “Please.”

Flashing him a triumphant smile she took the skin back from him, drinking much more slowly this time. He finished checking her over, no organs damaged by disease or anything else too dire. Just her body struggling to fight off whatever illness she had managed to catch. Had she been at the Rose? His heart was jack hammering in his chest. The idea had his gut churning and his skin crawling.

A few deep breaths calmed him enough that he could get back to the task at hand, healing his sick patient. Once he had rid her body of all traces of the illness he could find he stood and dusted himself off. Her grip on his pant leg prevented him from moving away. “Hawke?”

“Could you set up my bedroll? I’m suddenly very tired.” Her lids fluttered like she was struggling to keep them open.

He nodded and turned away, she was so much like a child sometimes, and like an old war vet at others. She could face the nastiest thugs and barely bat an eye, yet here she was mumbling and sleepy over an illness. And he, Maker forgive him, found all of it endearing. He laid out her bedroll close enough to the fire that Varric was building that he would be able to keep an eye on her. 

Returning to her, she held out her hand to him like a child. Not thinking about it too much he helped her to her feet. She didn’t release him so he helped her to her bedroll and lowered her carefully to it. Immediately, she curled on her side, eyes slipping closed as she murmured, “Thank you.”

He’d have to remember that, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be hearing that phrase from her again anytime soon. 

Bethany motioned for him to come over to her once Hawke was settled. “Is she alright?”

He wanted to stay with Hawke, but there was no reason to at this point so he crossed to her and nodded, “Does she get sick a lot?” He was curious about her stubborn behavior, was she not used to being ill, or was she ill so often that she needed to work through it to have a semblance of a life. He had never detected a serious problem with her health, but he hadn’t really been looking for one either.

A flash of guilt swept over Bethany’s face. “Not until we came here. She pushes herself too hard, doesn’t eat enough, and doesn’t sleep enough. She tries to work through it when she gets ill. My healing ability leaves a lot to be desired so I can’t do a whole lot for her when she gets sick.”

Unease ate at him; it seemed odd to think of her as frail in anyway, even given her small stature. “Has she ever been sick like this before?”

Beth’s face became impassive, seemed she learned a few tricks from her older sister, or was trying. She had been getting better at hiding her emotion over the weeks since he had known the sisters. “One other time, we’d been in Kirkwall for about eight months and Athenril was running us ragged. I didn’t even know she was sick until she literally collapsed. Two of Athenril’s men had to carry her and her gear to Gamlen’s and put her in bed. It took her weeks to recover completely, even with me helping her as much as I could. It’s odd, she was almost never sick in Ferelden.” She looked over at her sister’s sleeping form, worry lines etching her face, breaking the illusion of calm she had been trying to cultivate. “She’ll be okay though, right?”

“Yes, she should be up and around tomorrow afternoon.” At least he hoped so, he didn’t recognize the illness, but it hadn’t seemed too different from other illnesses he had treated in the past. Maybe it was something unique to the Free Marches.

Bethany looked at him then to Hawke a small sigh escaped her before she went back to the fire with the pot hanging over it. His thoughts were already back with Hawke. He moved closer to her sleeping form, laying out his own bedroll and sitting on it. He wanted to be close to her, he needed to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t unexpectedly relapse.

********

Anders gripped Hawke’s shoulder lightly to shake her awake. The food was done and she needed to eat so her body could heal properly. She screeched and swung out at him lighting quick. He ended up sprawled on his back with Hawke astride him, her dagger at his throat and his ears ringing. His voice seemed stuck in his throat he was so surprised by her quick movement and ear splitting shriek. Her eyes were glazed as she looked down at him and he worried she wasn’t seeing him. A little blossom of fear flickered to life inside of him and he started pulling on his magic to defend himself.

What was she seeing with those glassy, heavy lidded eyes? Some enemy? The deadly sharp edge of her dagger split his skin, a trickle of blood, warm and wet snaked down his throat as she pressed the dagger a little harder. “Hawke?” He kept his voice calm and quiet not to panic her.

“Sekhmet! Get off the poor man.” Bethany shouted as she came rushing towards them, force magic already rising from her fingers like wavy lines off the sun baked sand.

Hawke jerked her head up, looking at her sister, eyes blinking rapidly before turning back to him. He watched as understanding dawned in her eyes followed quickly by horror. “Oh gods Anders, I’m sorry.” She sheathed her dagger then gingerly touched his neck. “I could have…have…” She blushed and quickly jerked off of him skittering away towards the fire. She curled up, legs tucked against her chest, hugging them with her arms and rocked a little.

Anders stood slowly and brushed himself off, a trace of magic healing the shallow slice on his neck. He wouldn’t have even bothered, but he thought the sight of it might upset Hawke further. The sight of her odd, quick, jerky movements had rattled him a little. She was obviously extremely upset. He watched her rocking herself for a moment, wondering what was going on in her head.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bethany standing a few feet away from him, her eyes wary, her magic slowly dissipating. She took a small step towards him then stopped. “Are you alright? She didn’t mean it Anders; I should have warned you about waking her up. I’m so sorry.” She looked down at her feet.

Turning a little to see her, but keeping Hawke in his sight he spoke to Bethany. “It’s alright, no harm done.” 

Beth’s expression turned hopeful. What a strange and fascinating pair the Hawke sisters were. Fiercely protective of each other, each absolutely convinced the other needed it. Funny thing was, once one of them made up their mind nothing, not man, nor beast, nor magic could stop them. Save perhaps the other sister. He, for one, would not be underestimating them. “Really Beth, I’m fine.”

The girl colored and flashed him a huge smile. He mentally went over the conversation in his head trying to figure out what he might have said to illicit that response but lost interest quickly, wanting to talk to Hawke. After a moment she headed back to where she had been playing cards with Varric tossing glances over her shoulder at both Anders and Hawke. 

Anders walked over to where Hawke sat scrunched up in front of the fire and sat down next to her. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded but didn’t look at him. He could see her eyes were blank again staring into the fire, had her fever not broke? Was she getting worse? “How do you feel Hawke?”

She gave a half hearted chuckle, “Like a fool.”

He caught himself raising his hand to touch her arm reassuringly and set it on the ground between them instead. Had he thought he had become accustomed to Justice not wanting him to touch anyone? Everytime he saw her he had an urge to touch her, in at least a small way. “I’d say this makes us even, wouldn’t you?” He kept his tone light, hoping for a little laugh.

Instead, she turned to look at him incredulously, “Are you for real?” At least she was making eye contact with him now.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Had she forgotten already? 

“I could have killed you, Anders. Do you understand that?” Her eyes lowered again, looking at the ground as if she was ashamed of herself.

“And I could have killed you with the lightning. I don’t see the difference.” This time he couldn’t stop himself from touching her hand lightly, but he didn’t let it linger.

“The difference is that I didn’t know who you were. Even looking at you it didn’t really register, there was a flicker of something familiar about you but that was it.” She sounded angry, bitter. 

Should he be hurt that she didn’t recognize him, or should he be flattered that even in that state, confused by sleep and illness some part of her had recognized him. This wasn’t about him, this was about her. So he tried to lighten his tone. “Well, I suppose I am rather forgettable.”

“I wish.” She muttered.

He had heard her, but was still surprised. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry Anders. I wish there was something more I could do than just say the words but I wouldn’t know where to begin. Just, try not to touch me when you wake me up. I don’t respond well.” She gave him a half hearted smile. “And if you catch me in the right dream you might end up with me pinning you down for another reason completely.”

He smiled at the image, he liked it, liked it a lot. 

Her eyes went wide and she gasped, “Killer smile, check.” She said quietly, almost to herself. “Do you have any idea how beautiful, how heart-stoppingly gorgeous your smile is?”

As a matter of fact he did, or rather he used to. Now, it seemed like a memory from a long time ago. Her fingers grazed his lips as the smile melted away.

“No, I’m sorry don’t stop. It just surprised me.” She took her fingers away. “Would you smile again if I promised not to hit on you again?”

Was she nuts? That was the whole reason he had smiled in the first place. Just the memory of how her fingers felt on his lips almost had him smiling again, but he had other things to consider. She was ill, Justice could hurt her, maybe even kill her if he ever acted on any of his impulses. The weight of his possession dragged him down eclipsing the light he had briefly glimpsed.

“Let’s get something to eat so you can rest.” He started to stand.

“I’d raze the Gallows to the ground and slaughter every last Templar just to see that smile again.” Her eyes were over bright and there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on her face.

He closed his eyes, pain ripping at him. A hole torn in his heart. He could have loved her, of that he had no doubt. Had his heart still been his to give he would have handed it over to her with any smile she wanted to see. He pictured stroking her cheek and dropping a soft kiss there. He wanted to scream at Justice, at fate, at whatever gods might exist. Why would they send her now?

He steeled himself and opened his eyes, wanting nothing more than to hole up in the back of his clinic for a few days licking his wounds. “I’d settle for you returning to the city tomorrow and resting properly for a few days before going after the Tal Vashoth. The Qunari are formidable enemies.”

She stood beside him. “I will, even though I can tell from your face that I won’t get another smile from you.”

“If I had one to give you, I would.” He was just grateful she would head back and wouldn’t fight him again.

Her eyes bore into him before she let out a soft sigh. “Yes, I think you would.”


	6. Collecting Crazy-What a Lickable Elf

As the elf walked down the steps all lean lines, lithe limbs and a shock of pure white hair Sekhmet tried not to stare, he was an artist’s dream. His fine bone structure kind of reminded her of a porcelain doll she had seen in a shop in Denerim once. The elf glared at the slaver, his green eyes filled with pure hate. “Your men are dead and your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can.”

Her jaw almost hit the ground and her knees felt weak for a brief moment. There was no way an elf should ever have a voice that deep, and it was beautiful, like everything about him, almost painfully beautiful. The large sword strapped to his back was something she would have seen Carver carry and looked odd on the pretty elf. 

He looked like someone had gone through a lot of trouble to emphasize and enhance his natural beauty. The white colored tattoos that twined around his tanned skin seemed to contour along every muscle, accentuating them where ever his skin was bared. Whoever had done that to him, tattooed him like that, was a mad genius. 

The tattoos she had been admiring started to light up, the air crackling with charged energy that felt a bit like magic and a bit like the air before a storm. Anders’ hand wrapped almost possessively around her upper arm as he dragged her back a few steps to stand beside him. His own magic was simmering under the surface tickling her skin.

“What is that?” She asked him quietly.

“I don’t know, but it’s strong.” Anders had barely finished his sentence when the elf struck like a snake.

Her eyes went wide as the blue glow engulfed his arm, making him seem almost translucent. His hand darted forward, entering the man’s chest without a sound. The elf’s voice boomed out while he still had the slaver in his grasp. “I am not a slave.” Disbelief and agony flashed over the slaver’s face before he slid to the ground like he had just slipped off the elf’s still glowing hand. There was no discernible wound but even from where she stood she could see the slaver was dead.

The glowing of his tattoos faded as he turned to Sekhmet and met her eyes. His voice was quiet and controlled when he spoke again, almost cultured. “I apologize.” 

From rage and hate to calm appraisal in seconds, and people thought she had mood swings. He began walking around Sekhmet in a wide arc; she realized he was taking in her companions, sizing them up as he spoke. “You are not hurt? I did not know they would send so many.”

“Not hurt. Confused? Curious? Yes, but not hurt.” The whole job had been hinky from the start. The terrified dwarf asking them to retrieve stolen lyrium in the middle of the night from smugglers in the Alienage. Why would they be hiding amongst the city elves? They would stand out there and the elves weren’t likely to provide lyrium thieves with any assistance. But she had needed the money so they had gone and found the house easily. 

Then the chest inside that should have held the lyrium was empty. She had swallowed down her irritation and resolved to just tell Anso and see if she could get at least some pay for her time and effort. But as they left the house they were accosted by a large number of thugs who wore Tevinter style armor and spoke with Tevinter accents.

She had no idea what they would be doing in Kirkwall, the city was still struggling to recover from the influx of refugees it had taken on. But she could guess now that they were after the elf with the glowing tattoos, apparently a very valuable runaway slave. And she had been set up as a decoy, a dummy, and she felt every inch the fool.

Stopping again in front of her he eyed Anders who subtly pushed her back a small step essentially putting himself between her and the elf though he was not in front of her. She wasn’t sure if Anders was being possessive or overprotective either way it seemed to irritate the elf who glared at him for another moment before turning his attention to her.

She let Anders play whatever little game he was playing without complaint. They knew nothing about the elf besides the fact that he was deadly. A united front for now would be safer, although she heard Varric whisper to Bethany behind her.

“I think Blondie has a death wish.”

“I suppose an explanation is in order. I am Fenris.” He took a small step forward and she felt Anders’ magic humming more powerfully under his skin but he didn’t stop Fenris from reaching out his hand. She shook it calmly but quickly not wanting to provoke anyone, at least until she knew exactly what was going on.

Fenris didn’t seem to notice the tension, or maybe he was ignoring it. Either way he continued. “Those men, all of them, were sent for me, to bring me back to Tevinter.” 

“Because you’re a slave?” Her tone was light, conversational.

“Yes, I am…was a slave and escaped. There were too many for me to face directly, I needed a diversion.” His voice became quieter and his gaze more intent as if he were studying her reaction closely.

“Why not just ask for help?” She was more irritated by the lies than anything else.

“Not many would openly assist an escaped slave. I thought it best to be cautious.” His voice still seemed odd coming from him, he was a contradiction, a beautiful elf carrying an enormous sword with a deep rich voice, cultured almost arrogant speech yet he fidgeted back and forth from one foot to the other as if nervous.

“I suppose I can understand that. You must be pretty valuable; I can’t imagine sending all those men from Tevinter to catch you was cheap.” In fact, it would have cost a fortune.

He stilled, his back turning rigid, “Yes, I am valuable to him.”

She ignored his tension; did he honestly think she was going to turn him over now after she had been attacked by the slavers? “Is it because of your tattoos? That is what they are, right?”

He nodded, “In a manner of speaking. They are made from lyrium.”

Well that explained why she had felt magic when his tattoos lit up. But how did they work exactly? All well, it didn’t really matter, the job was apparently done. “So, are we done here?”

He seemed to relax a bit before turning from her and rifling through the dead slaver’s pockets. “Not exactly, I believe my master is here in the city and could use your help in facing him. I am tired of running.”

“Kill more slavers? Why the Void not, we don’t have anything better to do.” She smiled brightly; she liked the idea of killing slavers almost as she liked killing Templars.

“Speak for yourself.” Anders muttered, his magic finally receding.

She ignored him; something made her think Anders wouldn’t let her go unless he went too. She gestured around at her companions. “This is Anders, Varric and Bethany. So, where are we off too?”

“Thank you, I appreciate your assistance.” He held up what looked like a small drawing in front on him, peering at it in the dark. “It looks like we’re going to a mansion in Hightown.”

She could have guessed that, Hightown was where all the money in Kirkwall could be found. She started following him as he led the way, instead of falling in behind her as he usually did Anders kept pace with her, his usually fluid movements slightly rigid.

“What’s wrong?” She whispered, hoping Fenris wouldn’t overhear.

“He’s dangerous, and he’s not telling us everything.” He answered with no hesitation.

“How can you possibly know that?” She didn’t really doubt him; she had the same suspicions but wondered how Anders knew.

“Let’s just say I know a thing or two about danger and lies.” He kept his eyes on Fenris’ back as he spoke.

Fenris was moving rigidly as well, had he overheard them? “So your former master, are you planning on killing him?”

His words were dripping venom as he spoke, “Danarius wants to strip the flesh from my bones and has sent so many hunters that I have lost count.” His voice deepened a bit. “And before that, he kept me on a leash like a Qunari mage, a personal pet to mock Qunari custom.”

Anders cringed a little next to Sekhmet, “Ouch.”

Fenris never slowed, “So yes, I intend to do more than just talk.”

Fenris fell silent and didn’t speak again but Sekhmet could practically feel the bitterness rolling off him in waves. She was going to have to be very careful with this one, pretty he may be, but Anders was right, he was dangerous too. It would behoove her not to forget it. 

When they finally reached the mansion Fenris paused, moving back and forth from foot to foot again. He looked more than a little cagey and it made her uneasy, the elf was hiding something and whatever it was, it was big.

“Alright then, time to spill Fenris. What has you hesitating, I thought you wanted this bastard dead.” Please let it be something small, please. 

“He is a magister.” Each word was uttered as if it were an expletive.

She shook her head; of course she would get herself mixed up in something like this. As her mother would say, she had a knack for trouble. “So he’s one of the most powerful mages in Tevinter? A mage and a politician, in Tevinter, oh that’s just wonderful.”

Varric snorted, “This is insane Hawke.”

Fenris would not be way laid though, “Yes, there he is a mage and a politician. Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him.”

She smirked, “Then I suppose we should go make him sweat.”

“Don’t we get a say in this?” Varric piped up again.

“No.” No use arguing, she had already said they would help and she was going in. “So are you coming or are you worried Bianca’s not up to it.”

“Shh, she didn’t mean it Bianca, she knows you can handle it.” He sighed, “Fine Hawke, I’m with you. But if I die I want you to know I’ll write awful stories about you.”

She chuckled, “Fair enough. Anders? Bethany?”

Bethany shrugged, not looking worried, “I go where you go.”

Anders didn’t respond just rolled his eyes at her. 

She gave him a smile, “Good to know I can always count on you. Now, let’s have a little fun.”

Fenris scowled a little, clearly not amused. “I do not fear death, that does not mean we should be reckless”

And that was fine by her, she quite rather liked living. Of course as soon as they were five feet inside the mansion, which smelled like death and rot, Fenris started bellowing for Danarius to show himself. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to slap him as they fought their way through demons and shades just to find that the mansion was already abandoned.

As volatile as the man seemed to be she expected him to break out in a fit of anger. Instead, he looked a bit sick and quickly excused himself stating he needed some air. She nodded, her thoughts already elsewhere. There had to be something worthwhile in the mansion, something that would turn a little profit and prevent this escapade from being a total bust.

Bethany tugged on Anders’ sleeve, “Come on, we don’t want to get in the way when they start committing larceny.”

She didn’t miss Anders looking her and Varric over before he nodded a little. He didn’t look upset or disgusted so perhaps he had just been curious about what they were planning on stealing. She gave him a smile, “Go run along and play with Bethany while daddy and I bring home the bacon.”

Varric chuckled, “Maker save me if I end up with you Hawke. I wouldn’t survive it.”

Anders’ look soured, “Just don’t grab anything too conspicuous, we still need to get it out of Hightown.”

“You’re so damn cute when you worry about me.” She giggled.

Bethany sighed heavily and left, after a moment Anders followed.

“You know Hawke, one of these days you’re going to push that boy too far.” He snickered as he picked up a small golden candleholder.

“Worried you’ll lose any easy mark?” She laughed.

“Nah, I kinda like him. Try not to scare him off.”

“I promise nothing.” She didn’t want to scare Anders off either but she liked to tease him, she had a feeling he kind of liked it too though he was generally loathe to admit it. She figured if it got to be too much he’d tell her to shut up. 

They scoured the place and found a few things that Varric assured her he could get a decent price for. He seemed quite pleased with a couple pieces so hopefully it would be enough to split and still be worthwhile. As she jogged towards the door she heard Varric laughing behind her.

“Better go save him from your sister’s clutches.”

That gave her pause, was that why she was rushing out? She didn’t want Anders left alone with Bethany? Wow, color her jealous. She laughed a little, and why not, jealousy was a ridiculous emotion. Thankfully, she was able to slow her steps so she didn’t look like a fool rushing after them. Silly, silly girl.

As she walked through the last door Bethany jerked backwards away from Anders blushing. “We were just talking about magic.”

Anders was staring at Bethany with furrowed brows but didn’t say anything. She walked as casually as she could across the room to them her mind running wild. Were they just talking? Was it about magic? Was it something else and that was why Anders looked confused?

His gaze turned to her and she gave him a smile that felt a little shaky. Can anyone say insecure? And over a man that wasn’t even hers. 

The furrows disappeared and a little twinkle touched his eyes. “Did you find anything good?” 

Varric nodded, “A few things. At least we’ll make a little money.”

“I found a little something that might help.” He held out a short sword that glittered golden in the dim light with sparks of light over the ornate hilt.

She knew her eyes were wide and stunned; it was so ridiculously pretty, more than made any sense. “What is that?”

He gave her a wry look, “It’s a short sword.”

She slapped him lightly on the arm, “I can see that, you ass.”

“Then why did you ask?” he smirked.

“What’s it made of? Are those diamonds?” It couldn’t be a real weapon.

“The gold is volcanic aurum, strong, sharp and very pricey. And yes those are diamonds.” He turned it a little showing it off.

“I didn’t even see you pick it up!” Bethany exclaimed.

“I have a few skills.” He was still smirking and damn if she didn’t want to just lick those pretty lips of his.

“Oh, I bet you do.” She snickered.

He shook his head at her but didn’t lose the cute little smirk he was wearing. He handed the dagger over to Varric. “I’m sure you can find the best way to put this to good use.”

“Seems this little adventure ended up being more lucrative than we thought.” The sword disappeared into his voluminous jacket along with the rest of their loot. “Shall we get going; it’s getting a bit late.”

In good spirits she pushed open the door, ready to wrap up the night. Anders followed behind her with Bethany and Varric bringing up the rear. She stopped suddenly when she saw Fenris leaning casually against the wall of the estate.

Anders bumped into her and grabbed her shoulders. “Sorry, you alright?”

“Any excuse to touch the pretty women, eh Anders?” Varric snickered.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “You do what you must.”

“Oh, you don’t need an excuse to touch me doll.” She smiled wide at him.

They all quieted when Fenris started to speak, not bothering to even spare them a glance. “It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn.” His voice was bitter, and angry. Finally, he looked at them. “It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul.” His gaze bored into Bethany. “And now I find myself in the company of even more mages.”

Well the man sure was dramatic.

Varric touched her arm lightly on his way past her, “I’m out of here, Hawke. Come by tomorrow.”

Fenris didn’t seem fazed by Varric’s departure. He turned his attention to Hawke, standing a little too close to her. “You habor a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect it. That’s in its nature.”

Behind her she felt Bethany taking a small step backwards. Rage burned through her and she struggled not to just slit the bastard’s throat. She wasn’t sure why she hesitated; if he was a Templar he would have been already dead. There was a strong desire to smack the little shit for referring to her sister as an it. 

They had just helped this prig not once, but twice and his response was to insult her sister? “Unlike the ungrateful little ex slave that tricked me into helping him in the Alienage? The same elf who we offered to help face his former master even after that little incident? It must be nice to have so many friends you can spit on the people who help you.” Disgusted she turned to look at Anders and Bethany, “Come on you two, let’s get out of here.” 

Bethany beamed, “Thanks, sis.”

********

Anders kept his voice soft. He wanted Hawke to know he meant it. “Yes, thank you Hawke.” Who did this elf think he was, was he trying to get Sekhmet to kill him?

Seeing that he was winning no battles Fenris seemed to change tactics, “Wait, I do not want to seem ungrateful. I do know that magic has its uses.” 

Anders rolled his eyes, yes, didn’t want to _seem_ ungrateful, but still didn’t apologize. The elf played word games as well as any Templar. He tuned the elf out; he wasn’t interested in listening to more of his ranting. His life at the Circle had been filled with these rants, not so cleverly disguised as lessons.

Not to mention it was difficult to pay attention to what the elf was saying when Justice was babbling about Fenris’ skin singing to him. Justice ached to run his fingers over the elf’s tattoos. Being possessed with a spirit that had an obsession with lyrium could be trying at times.

Anders purposely tried to turn his focus elsewhere when he had a stray thought cross his mind wondering what it would feel like to lick the elf’s tattoos. Now that was just a bad combination of obsessions, him with tattoos and Justice with lyrium. Because that was exactly what he needed, one more complication in his life. And what better complication than to have Justice drooling over a mage hating elf?

Turning to Bethany he tried to give her a reassuring smile; the girl had so many regrets about her magic already that she didn’t need this idiot adding to them. She gave him a small, shy smile in return. Inside of the mansion she had spoken with him a little about her life and her magic, about how it affected her family. Which had led, of course, to him talking about the Templars. If the Templars didn’t exist then she wouldn’t have been chased and could have had a stable life wherever her family settled. 

He wondered briefly how two women, raised in the same homes with the same family, and so close in age could be so different. But they were as different as night and day, Bethany even with all that fire power was shy and self conscious, where Hawke was bold and almost arrogant. 

He looked back to Fenris and Hawke when the elf told her he was grateful for her help. A quiet scoff escaped his own lips and he caught Bethany smile out of the corner of his eye. Fenris either didn’t hear him or ignored him he just handed Hawke the coin for the job.

Anders was more than ready to leave, but it seemed Hawke had more questions for Fenris. She asked Fenris about the slavers chasing him and he explained how he got his lyrium tattoos. He eyed Fenris carefully; trying not to rouse Justice again as he noticed, and how in the world had he missed it before, how the ink contoured the elf’s lithe body. Now that was interesting. How much of the elf’s body was tattooed, was it everywhere like Zevran? Two elves with tattoos over their entire body? Life certainly was interesting sometimes.

He wondered exactly how the tattoos translated to the abilities Fenris had displayed inside the mansion. The elf seemed capable of sudden bursts of speed that rendered him little more than a blur, but only for short distances. Then there was how his tattoos would glow blue and his body would turn translucent for a time. And the weirdest of all was when he seemed to be able to move parts of himself through solid objects when in that state.

How did the lyrium not drive Fenris mad or addle his mind? He scowled, what did he care? The elf hated mages and made no secret of it. Fenris was getting himself wound up again as he spoke about his former owner, Danarius. Anders yawned; he wanted to go home he’d had enough fighting for one night.

Hawke broke out in a smile, “Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf.”

That caught Anders’ attention, he felt a sudden flicker of jealousy, which confused him; he wasn’t prone to jealousy, especially for women he had only recently met. But then he saw the elf’s whole posture change. Fenris seemed to soften in front of them like warm butter before chuckling nervously. 

He shook his head, clever girl. It was yet another thing Hawke seemed to have a knack for; she knew how to find the chinks in just about anyone’s armor. Maker knew she had assassin like precision with finding all of _his_ weak spots. The elf clearly had little experience with flattery and his anger was replaced with pleasant surprise. With the elf calm it was only a few more minutes before Hawke was finally ready to go.

And she wanted to work with the elf again? After speaking with her on Sundrmount that was the last thing he had expected, why would she work with someone who so clearly hated mages? For now, it could wait. He was tired and he still had things that needed to be finished at the clinic before he even attempted sleep.

It would have been faster for Anders just to head to Darktown from Hightown, there were several entrances that would take him closer to his clinic, but he didn’t feel right letting the girls walk home alone. He may have been just about the farthest thing from a knight there was, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be chivalrous on occasion.

As they reached the bottom of the steps up to their uncle’s house they slowed. Hawke shot him her little smirk and a wink, “Thank you for your help with everything Anders.” With that she disappeared up the steps.

When Bethany didn’t immediately follow he felt himself tense, had there been a reason for Hawke’s smirk? “Bethany?”

“I…” she suddenly blushed. “Thank you for tonight.” She bit her bottom lip and scuffed at the dirt with the toe of her boot.

He groaned inwardly, hoping this wasn’t what he thought it was. On his list of things that would make his life more complicated, a crush from a blushing virgin, and Hawke’s sister no less was definitely on the top. Tonight was just a string of things to make his life more difficult.

She looked up at him and her words came out in a rush, “It’s nice to know that there are people on my side, sometimes I feel very alone.”

He nodded, he hoped sympathetically. “I understand, but you must know your sister is always there for you.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line before she nodded sharply. She paused for another moment before disappearing up the stairs herself. He shook his head and headed for Darktown with long strides, moving as far away from that house as he could as quickly as he could while trying to convince himself that Bethany was just being polite.


	7. Taking Down The Weak

Two days, two Maker forsaken days and the damn elf wouldn’t shut up. Every other word out of his mouth was about mages and how much he hated them, how dangerous they were. She had tried to ignore it but now even the sound of his voice was grating to her. Anger licked at her stomach like flames. She’d had enough; she stopped dead in her tracks and whipped around almost causing Fenris to run right into her. “Enough already. We get it, you hate all mages and wish they were all dead, now shut the fuck up.” 

Fenris looked at her stunned, “I didn’t…”

The urge to choke him was nearly overwhelming. “Shut. Up. Do you understand? Stop fucking speaking.” She shook her head, “Why the Void did I ever agree to work with you?” But she knew, she needed a blade, someone who could come close to keeping up with her at least. Fight after fight with only her on the front lines became tiresome for her.

Aveline was fine in a pinch, but she was busy with the guard and Sekhmet didn’t like involving her in all the garbage she got herself involved with. In fact, she couldn’t exactly remember the last time they had spoken other than in brief missives to each other.

Fenris, carrying that big blade with his surly attitude and his slightly awkward people skills had made her think of Carver. It was stupid she knew, but she missed Carver and had hoped for some connection with Fenris. What she got instead of a brother who couldn’t stand her was a deadly elf that hated most of the people she knew.

But the bastard was quick and efficient. She’d never admit it out loud but fighting with him was almost as easy as it had been to fight with Carver at her side. If the elf could just keep his venom to himself he’d be damn near perfect, at least as a fighter. 

Whenever he got too much for her to deal with she’d flash him a smile and flirt a little. It was cute to watch him melt like snow. But she was beyond her limit today and could not tolerate how he treated Bethany and Anders, or how he went on and on about mages being the downfall of mankind.

And today wasn’t the first time she wondered how he had managed to keep his tongue while being a slave to a magister. Sure, he was useful, but he didn’t need a tongue to fight and be a body guard. And whatever was going on between Fenris and Anders got ugly, often.

Anders was never more than a few steps away from her while Fenris travelled with them. Even in the heat of battle he stayed close using spells she had never seen before that seemed geared to close combat fighting. Just what had Anders done in the Wardens? 

Her outburst at the elf had clearly surprised everyone. Bethany and Anders exchanged uncomfortable looks while Fenris suddenly became very interested in his feet. Anders started to move close to her again and she pinned him with her stare willing him to stay where he was.

Fenris had to learn that she didn’t need Anders to protect her; it wasn’t why Anders travelled with them. It was just something he apparently felt he needed to do since the moment he had met Fenris. Anders looked unhappy and almost a little hurt but nodded and stayed where he was.

She turned her attention and her pique back at Fenris. “You said you would watch them, and that’s fine. Whatever. But seriously your constant bitching and complaining about mages is too much.” And she knew it wasn’t constant, mostly he was pretty quiet, but Sekhmet stewed. If something wasn’t immediately forgotten it swam around and around in her head tugging at her nerves until she had to blow off steam or slaughter someone. “My _Father_ and _Sister_ are both mages. Anders, the man that heals you all the damn time and watches your back? He’s a mage. Why would you think that I would want to hear that blather non stop?”

Anders smirked; too late he realized his mistake.

Him constantly putting himself between her and Fenris had been cute and charming at first, but at this point it was just annoying the piss out of her. He was treating her like she couldn’t take care of herself, like she needed him to protect her. And half the time it was him that wound Fenris up so much.

Anders felt the need, for whatever reason to assert his alpha male role whenever Fenris was around. And Fenris responded exactly as one would predict an ex-slave of a mage would respond. Not to worry, she had enough anger for him too, she turned her glare to him, “And stop fucking goading him Anders, what are you, two?”

Anders bit his lip and looked at the ground she couldn’t tell if he was genuinely contrite or was just trying to hide a smile but she really didn’t care, they had work to do. She spun on her heel and continued up the Wounded Coast still fuming but wanting to save her energy. Anders still hadn’t given her a clean bill of health from her last trip out to the Wounded Coast which was why he had demanded to join her.

Though, now that she was thinking about it, maybe he had just used it as an excuse so she wouldn’t head off to the coast with Fenris without taking him. She had been planning on bringing Varric, but Anders had insisted on coming and Varric had some unexpected Merchant Guild business to take care of that couldn’t wait. Or so he said.

Winding herself up again wondering if Varric had bowed out at the last minute so she would take Anders she couldn’t wait to find the Tal-Vashoth. Oh, she had heard plenty of stories about how dangerous they were and how hard they were to fight but they hadn’t met her yet and had certainly never seen her in an all out temper. 

When they finally reached the Tal-Vashoth the fight was short and violent. She had felt like air, slipping through the brutes, her blades flying, feeling like a part of her. Hands and feet moving in a concert of death that felt extremely satisfying. As they grunted, shouted and fell around her she felt her anger ebbing away with their life blood.

She scanned the cave around her quickly and didn’t see any enemies left standing. She started looking for her other companions, feeling guilty that she had let herself become so swept away, when she heard Fenris’ voice ring through the cavern.

“I need one of you mages to get over here.” His voice was short and terse.

And like that the euphoric feeling she had found in the wake of so much violent death was shattered. That deep voice of his grated across her ears giving her an immediate headache and breathing life into the anger she had thought had perished. 

Fenris was pinned to a wooden beam with a large spear through his shoulder. Anders was already hurrying over to him. She sprinted and reached Fenris first. “Get away from him, Anders.”

“But Hawke, his shoulder.” He shifted as if to move around her.

“I see it, just back off.” Her words were clipped as she tried not to let her anger bubble over; it was Fenris’ shitty attitude that had pissed her off, not Anders. The tall mage nodded and moved away a bit though he kept watching her. She grabbed Fenris’ shoulder and then the spear and yanked it loose. 

His green eyes flared wide for a second with pain. “Thank you,” his voice was quiet, but she wasn’t fooled she could feel his irritation. “Now I need one of the mages to heal it.” 

She sneered at him and placed a poultice in his good hand, “Deal with it yourself. _Anders_ and _Bethany_ aren’t going to be tending you today.” She stressed both of their names, making sure that Fenris understood exactly why she was angry. Yet again he was looking to the two mages for help while refusing to so much as use their names. Bastard.

“But you can’t leave him like that.” Bethany’s voice was quiet. “Just let me…”

“No,” she snapped. Bethany was too sweet for her own good half the time. “He has nothing but contempt for mages unless he needs something from them. And even then he can’t be civil about it.” She kept her gaze on Fenris. “He can’t even be bothered to ask, or use your names. Let him tend his own damn wounds.” She took a step back and started heading for the mouth of the cave.

Anders was beside her in seconds, his voice quiet. She hated when he used that deferential tone on her, it meant he was already expecting an argument from her. “Sekhmet, I know you’re angry, and I can’t blame you.” He looked back at Fenris who was cradling his arm as best he could as it hung limply. He lowered his voice a bit more, “But if you don’t let one of us heal him, he might not get use of that arm back.”

She looked back over her shoulder at Fenris, his glower still firmly in place. He was several yards behind them and Bethany was helping him wrap his shoulder with a poultice and some bandages. She lifted her chin defiantly as if challenging Sekhmet to argue with her for helping him. There was Bethany’s steel, it made her happy to see it.

Anders was even worse than Bethany at times. Whatever else he was, Anders was first and foremost a healer. And he believed that even a bastard like Fenris deserved his care when needed. She looked up at him, the mage that kept surprising her and amusing her. He was a complicated man, but she was starting to believe that there would no way she would be able to let him go without learning all his secrets. 

Smiling, she shook her head in disbelief and stroked his cheek gently. “You’re amazing.” Anders closed his eyes briefly, then took a step back as if startled. She looked away; it hurt when he did that. It was a back and forth tango with him. She moved forward, he would follow, sometimes he’d even lead a few steps, then he’d back pedal like it hurt to be near her. “Sorry.” She murmured.

“Please, don’t apologize.” But his voice was tight, strained.

She sighed heavily, “Right.” Pushing her frustration down she turned back to look at Fenris again. “Will it hurt him to go an hour or two without being healed?”

Anders looked uneasy; he clearly didn’t like the idea. “Not unless we’re attacked again.”

“Why do you want to help him? He’s so awful to you. Isn’t it justice to make him have to live by what he says? If he hates mages so much, let him live without their help.” This was a perfect example of why people like Anders and Bethany needed someone like her in their life. They were too nice, too sweet, too forgiving.

********

Anders could see her emotions swirling right below the surface, each a quick shine in her eyes before it disappeared again. She looked away from him as if she knew what he was seeing. Maker, he wished things weren’t so awkward between the two of them. It was mostly his fault; he really struggled with how to be around her. 

His defenses fell like dry dead leaves when she was around. He just liked being with her, she made him feel more focused, like he had a real tangible purpose and not just some loose ideals. She made him feel human again. And what did he do for her in return? He hurt her of course, again and again. He wanted her touch, wanted to touch her but it wasn’t safe. 

Even knowing it wasn’t safe, he craved it and as if she heard him begging inside for a touch, for a little human contact she touched him , just light affection and he found himself drawn in only to be snapped back by Justice’s sharp disapproval. And each time he recoiled he saw the pain he caused her. But in a day or two they would be right back at it again, because if she disappeared for too long, if she didn’t come looking for him to help on a job he missed her and would go looking for her.

He told himself that he just needed a friend and she was the closest thing to one he had. Though, he wasn’t even a particularly good friend. She seemed to be in pain so often, especially when they travelled with Fenris and he could provide her with no comfort. Part of him wanted to hug her and tell her it was alright. But another part, admittedly a larger part, wanted to get rid of Fenris permanently. 

Trying to keep most of the thoughts at bay he asked the question that plagued him the most. “Why do you keep bringing him with us if it’s so hard for you?”

“Are you hungry?”

Anders chuckled, she was deflecting; well it wasn’t like he wasn’t guilty of doing the same all too often.

Her lips curled into a devious little smile. “I’ll make you a deal, we’ll eat, and then _you_ can heal him.”

“He’d prefer Bethany.” It was true, Fenris really disliked him and he was just fine with that, encouraged it in fact.

The smile slipped away, “I know, that’s why you’re doing it. Besides, you’re a better healer by far.”

Was it just his imagination or did she smile less and less? “Punishing me and appealing to my ego? You’re sending mixed signals.” He almost took another step away from her when she flashed him a smirk with a hungry look.

“I don’t know, I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I want. But, I’ll try to be clearer in the future.” She turned, not waiting for a response, and headed back towards Fenris and Bethany.

Anders’ heart sped up in his chest; someday he would learn to keep his mouth shut. Preferably, before he died of heart failure. He moved across the cavern to where a fire was still lit. His light sparring with Hawke had taken him by surprise. If Justice didn’t have such tight reins on him little things like that would barely have registered. As it was, each of their exchanges, no matter how innocuous, made him reel. He sat down and pulled a pouch of nuts and dried fruit from his pack, a diversion was what he needed.

The others joined him, each pulling their own snacks out. The four of them munched in silence and avoided each other’s gazes. They were such a cozy bunch. He couldn’t help but glance at Fenris’ shoulder periodically. The bandages were already red, either Bethany hadn’t tightened the bandages much or Fenris was bleeding worse than he realized.

He nudged Hawke with his foot and when she looked at him he glanced over at Fenris, she followed his gaze, but if she was concerned she didn’t show it. She gave a little shrug and continued to eat in silence. He sat for a few more minutes, trying not to worry about it before getting up and moving behind Fenris. No matter what an ass the elf was he couldn’t leave him to suffer.

“What are you doing?” Fenris’ voice was quiet, without his usual angry edge to it.

“Just hold still.” He murmured, his magic already cascading over the shoulder.

“Anders” Hawke’s voice was tight, angry.

He looked at her and knew she was going to be furious with him, but Fenris was bleeding too much. He held his hand over Fenris’ shoulder and let his healing energy flare brighter. Fenris actually sighed as the energy moved into his damaged shoulder and started knitting it back together.

When he looked back to Hawke she was staring into the fire, her jaw set. He turned his attention back to healing Fenris’ shoulder. “Move your arm and fingers. How does it feel?”

Fenris lifted his arm and moved it around. He flexed his fingers a few times experimentally. “A little tight.” His voice was still very quiet.

He pulled his attention away from Hawke’s rigid posture, needing his mind on his task. “Alright, hold your arm out in front of you.” As Fenris’ did as he requested he let a brief pulse of warmth flow into the shoulder. “Okay, now move it.” 

Fenris started moving his arm, “That feels, odd.”

“Keep moving it.” A few seconds later everything felt normal in the elf’s shoulder and he stopped his magic. “Now?”

Fenris moved and flexed his arm experimentally. “Good.” There were several beats of silence and he moved back to where he had been sitting. “Thank you.”

He looked up, surprised. Fenris wasn’t looking at him but he nodded in acknowledgement anyways.

Hawke put her food away, took a long pull on her waterskin and put that away as well. She stood, “Come on, let’s get going.” She turned and headed for the exit, “Bethany, can you put that fire out?”

********

Hawke hadn’t really spoken to him after that and the trip back to Kirkwall had been tense and silent. When they reached Kirkwall Hawke left Bethany at Gamlen’s, and the younger sister surprised him by not arguing with her about it, just went quietly inside. They stopped to get Varric before the four of them headed to the Qunari compound on the docks to meet with the Arishok and the dwarf Javaris. Anders actually found himself glad that Fenris had come along.

Maybe because he respected the Arishok, or maybe because he was trying to make nice with Hawke Fenris spoke with the Arishok even managing to impress the great horned Qunari. The supposed deal turned out to be a bust, Fenris even going so far as to offer to kill the dwarf for the Arishok. Hawke had looked pleased with the prospect but the Arishok told her that Jarvaris wasn’t worth it.

The dwarf left snarling curses but Hawke didn’t seem to mind. She was more curious about the Qunari.

A little scrap of a girl, standing before the mountain that was the Arishok and she was not intimidated or scared. She faced him asking anything and everything she wanted, being respectful to a certain degree but also her irreverent self. The Arishok seemed fascinated with her and Anders understood the feeling, but was grateful when they finally took their leave.

He was more than a little disappointed when Hawke jogged up the steps into Gamlen’s without so much as looking at him. 

She hadn’t spoken to him for four days after that incident. He thought about going to see her, but decided it would be best to give her some time . So he worked in his clinic, keeping himself busy and tried not to think about her or the disappointed look she had on her face the last time he saw her.

The door to his clinic swung open and he found himself looking up hopefully and scowled when he saw Bethany, alone. What was the fool girl doing wandering around the Undercity by herself? A girl like her could get killed or worse in Darktown. He finished healing his patient’s broken leg and let the parents know it would ache for a few days before crossing his clinic quickly to Bethany.

“What are you doing here?” He asked a little more harshly than strictly necessary.

The girl recoiled in on herself a little. “I,” her tongue flicked out to moisten her bottom lip nervously, “I wondered if you could help me with my healing.”

Anders scowled, “Your healing is fine Bethany and certainly no reason to go wondering around Darktown alone.”

“Killing stuff isn’t the problem.” Bethany looked away from him and chewed on her thumb nail. “You…you’ve seen her scar?”

He shook his head, he’d seen several but none he would think of as very significant.

She dropped her hand and chewed her lip momentarily instead. “Between her bull headedness and my lack of healing ability I almost lost her, more than once.” She looked up at him suddenly, “Please Anders, I just need to know that I can help her if for some reason you’re not there.”

His first instinct was to say no, “Did she send you so she wouldn’t need to bring me along anymore? Is she that angry with me?”

Bethany scowled, “No, she’s upset yes, but she didn’t send me. She’d probably be as angry to know I was here alone as you were when I got here.”

So at least she wasn’t trying to replace him. A part of him still wanted to refuse her; his life had been busy enough even before he had met the Hawke sisters. But he genuinely liked Bethany, she was sweet and smart and it would be nice not to be the only healer around for once. “If you can put up with me as a teacher I would be happy to teach you.” Bethany’s smile was so sudden and so brilliant it caught Anders completely by surprise and he smiled back.

He had to suppress a groan when she blushed, now that he did not need. He wasn’t sure how he kept convincing himself that Bethany didn’t have a crush on him, but when she looked at him like that and blushed it was hard to deny. Though, for the sake of his own sanity he’d likely convince himself otherwise again. One Hawke sister was bad enough, and he was pretty sure he was more than a few years Bethany’s senior.

It occurred to him, for only a moment, how different he was than he had been, before Justice he would have been perversely tickled pink at the idea of sisters fawning over him. _“Justice, you have sucked all the fun out of my life.”_ He grumbled silently to the spirit. 

He took a deep breath and couldn’t help himself from asking. “So, about the other day, how angry is she?”

Bethany’s body tensed a little but she chuckled, “She’ll forgive you, she just thinks you were too nice to Fenris.”

“Does she really hate him that much?” It didn’t make sense to him to waste that much energy on the elf, but what did he know? He didn’t think he was worth wasting energy on, yet she did, repeatedly.

“She’s big on making a point. If she hated him she wouldn’t waste her time with him at all.” She was young, but Bethany was unusually insightful when it came to her older sister. 

He wondered sometimes if she knew her older sister better than Hawke did. He was quiet for several minutes, over the last few days he had felt Hawke’s absence acutely and he just wanted the exile to end. “Would it help if I went to speak with her?”

They had been walking to his small desk when she stopped and turned to him, her face pensive and just a touch sad. “Anders, do you love Sekhmet?”

Wow, that came out of nowhere. “I…She…She’s been very good to me, to mages. I don’t want to lose her friendship.”

She watched him for another minute and he tried not to fidget under her gaze. How had he never noticed Bethany could give Hawke a run for her money when she was scrutinizing someone? He felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“There are no half measures with her, Anders. It’s all or nothing.” The sadness was gone, she just looked determined.

The look reminded him of Hawke. Maybe the two of them weren’t as different as he had thought. He nodded, “I’ve seen how dedicated she is.”

She shook her head in obvious frustration and glared at him, “Stop it. I won’t tell her. Just, please, remember what I said. She’s more fragile than she likes people to think. Papa’s death…she took it badly, and she has been… different since.”

He knew he was pressing his luck; it was none of his business but it seemed important to understand these women. “What happened to him?”

She suddenly looked bitter and snorted. “He helped the wrong group of people.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He’d never been terribly fond of spilling secrets.

She looked him over again, assessing him possibly before she relaxed a bit and started to speak. “No, maybe you should know. Maybe it will help you understand. Papa had been called to a neighbor’s farmstead. Some knew what he was, and he was happy to help when he could. The farmer’s wife was giving birth and was having trouble. So Papa went, and Sekhmet with him.

“The baby was delivered, safe and sound. On the way home they came across a caravan being attacked by bandits. A woman was being pulled into the bushes by one of the men and Papa hit him with lightning so he would let go of her.

“He and Sekhmet ended up in a fight with the bandit’s trying to protect the people of the caravan.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Sekhmet says while they were still fighting off the bandits a man climbed out of one of the wagons in Templar armor and headed straight for Papa. She screamed and ran but didn’t get there in time.” She turned away from Anders. “He…took Papa’s head right off.” She was shaking a little and a tear rolled down her face.

“Oh, Maker.” His words were barely above a whisper, Hawke had seen that. Seen her father murdered, decapitated right in front of her. Poor girl.

Bethany was angry now when she started speaking again. “That coward hid in the wagon during the bandit attack, but came out just to kill my father, who was helping him. The Templar got pulled into the fight; he had no choice at that point. The bandits finally left, probably deciding the caravan was too much trouble.”

“What happened to the Templar?” Was that how Hawke’s animosity against the Templars started?

Bethany looked back at him, her face tear streaked, but she gave him a small smile. It was almost gruesome, “Sekhmet happened to him. I don’t know what she did, she doesn’t talk about it, but I heard whispers around Lothering. He was dead, but they couldn’t identify him. They knew he was a Templar from the armor, but nothing else. 

“She was injured badly, but she carried our father’s body all the way home. She collapsed in the doorway, with him still in her arms and blood all down the front of her. Carver wouldn’t let me near her until he had moved Papa’s body.

“By then, I thought I had lost her. I did my best to heal her, but it was all I could do just to close the wound and keep her alive. Mother was devastated, and Carver blamed Sekhmet. Carver made her stand with us at the pyre as we burned our father’s body even though she was barely conscious. Told her it was the least she could do since she had let him die. 

“I thought mother would say something, would tell Sekhmet it wasn’t her fault, but she was so grief stricken she didn’t speak a word for weeks. I think Sekhmet took that as mother agreeing with Carver. And nothing I said or did seemed to make a difference.

“Sekhmet changed a lot after that. She went out all the time carousing, she was carried home more than once.” Bethany bit her lip looking a little unsure for a moment. “And she got a bit of a reputation in Lothering, though none of us ever spoke of it.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, wasn’t sure he could handle it, but couldn’t help himself. “What kind of a reputation?”

She closed her eyes, “You can’t ever tell her I told you this, but I heard them call her a doxie in the Chantry once. I heard her called worse too, but…”

He nodded, he got the idea, and it wasn’t the reputation that bothered him, but how they must have treated her. You don’t say things like that in a Chantry if you’re being kind to a woman. And she had just lost her father. People could be cruel.

Bethany spoke quickly as if suddenly regretting telling him, “She was just lost. She was hurting and didn’t know what to do with it, and we all depended on her so much. Everything fell to her when papa died.”

“Beth, relax. I won’t tell her, and I understand better than you think. I promise, I don’t think any less of her.” 

She nodded, “She’s not like that anymore anyways. Not since the Blight. She only drinks with Varric at the Hanged Man and she hasn’t…” her words trailed off again. She tried a small smile and it was a little shaky. “But she can’t seem to stop the flirting.”

He gave her a wry smile, “I noticed.”

She shrugged, “She’s always been a bit of a flirt, even before papa died.” She canted her head and looked him over again, “I wonder sometimes, if she sees in you a chance at redemption.”

He felt his gut twist. Was that it? She wanted to save him because she hadn’t been able to save her father? If that was it, if she was trying to save him, she was going to be disappointed. There was no way to save him, the damage was already done and his course was already set. 

She suddenly laughed a little, the sound rich and charming. “I think you confuse her.”

“Then that makes us even, she confuses me.” She did, boy Maker did she ever.

“I should probably get back, she’ll be worried.” Bethany moved towards the door. “Give her another day or so, she’ll be fine. She’ll probably act like it never happened.” She stopped and gave him an impish smile. “And if she still seems agitated, smile at her, she thinks your smile is cute.” She disappeared out his door.

“Cute, right.” He slumped into the small chair he used at his desk. He stared at the door for a few moments; the day had been enlightening and more than a bit sobering. What had happened to Hawke’s father explained a lot, the pain she must have gone through was something he couldn’t really even fathom. And it more than explained the darkness he sensed in her. Or maybe he was just imagining it, trying to convince himself she was more like him.


	8. Collecting Crazy-Straight Laced

He’d been happy to see her this morning, when she walked into the clinic with a smile on he felt a great weight lifting from him. His banishment had ended. But now as they scaled the steps to the Viscount’s Keep he wondered if maybe he should have asked more questions before agreeing to help her out for the day. He’d been so relieved to see her smile again he hadn’t even bothered to ask what was going on.

He kept pace with her as she jogged up the steps; with his long legs it was easy. “Uh, Hawke?” he was quiet not wanting anyone to know he was a little concerned about their destination.

“Yes, Anders?” She was quiet as well, her eyes far off as if her mind were somewhere else.

He held back his frustration, he had just gotten back into her good graces and he didn’t want to start a fight. “Is there a reason you’re taking me to the Viscount’s Keep?” 

She still didn’t look at him as she tugged open the heavy door to the Keep and stepped quickly inside. “We need to go see Aveline.”

“And who is Aveline?” Was it just his imagination or was she heading to the guard barracks?

“She’s a guard. Came here with us from Ferelden.” Just a statement, not realizing the impact of her words perhaps.

He moved closer to her, Maker the woman was short. He felt like a giant looming over her. He lowered his voice again, the close quarters worrying him that people might over hear him. “You are aware that I am a wanted apostate right?” 

She stopped and looked up at him with a little smirk, “Am I aware that you’re wanted?” She let her eyes slowly slide over him and he felt his skin flushing at the slow perusal. “Yes, darling I am _very_ aware of how much you’re _wanted_.”

Half a dozen responses popped into mind, each one more inappropriate than the last. He sighed, such a pretty little thing and he had her full attention, for the moment. It felt good; it was nice to feel wanted again. Why couldn’t he have found her a year ago? All well, back to the matter at hand. “Why didn’t I know you had a friend in the guard?”

Her smirk slid out of place, she was back to business as well. “It’s not exactly something either of us advertises.”

Interesting, “Why? Do you not like each other?”

“Aveline is a fine person, someone you want on your side but…she’s in the guard and I’m a criminal. So it’s in both our interests to limit contact to a certain degree.” She shrugged a little.

It was as good an explanation as any. “Fine, then why are we here?”

He could hear in her voice that she was getting tired of the conversation but she answered anyways. “Because we need money, a paying job and I thought she might have a job or at least some ideas.”

“Wait, what?” She was putting him in danger of being exposed and there wasn’t even any work for him yet? “So you brought me to the guard barracks and we don’t even have a job yet?”

She reached out her hand for a moment, her fingers nearly touching his sleeve before she dropped it back to her side without having touched him. “It’ll be fine, Anders.” She gave him a little smile.

Placating him, just what he needed, he muttered to himself but didn’t speak up again. First a blood mage, then a mad lyrium coated elf and now a city guard? Right, because why wait for the Templars to come find you when you can go begging for trouble. 

As they entered the barracks he ducked his head, trying to stay as out of sight as best he could, even though he was by far the tallest in the group. “Don’t mind me; I’m just going to hide my face a little.”

“Aww, but it’s such a pretty face.” Hawke teased.

He ignored her and concentrated on paying attention to his surroundings to see if there was anyone who looked familiar. His chest felt tight with a mix of frustration and irritation with himself that he was always so willing to go along with Hawke on her little jaunts. Well, at least it couldn’t get much worse.

********

Aveline was tall woman, squared shoulders and a firm jaw lent her a slightly mannish look but she had beautiful ginger colored hair tied to hang down her back. She had adorable freckles on fine skin, nearly as pale as Hawke’s. Not exactly beautiful but handsome in her way, and the guard armor she wore suited her. Her attention seemed riveted to some papers tacked to the wall and Hawke stood behind her for a few minutes waiting for the guard to acknowledge her.

“Why Aveline, your sword and shield are absolutely gleaming today. Seems you’ve been very busy.” Hawke was teasing the guard and Anders just hoped she was in a good mood.

When Aveline turned around to look at Hawke he saw that she had eyes the color of grass in high summer. Handsome, yes he’d had it right the first time. She looked tired and just the slightest bit annoyed, “Just here to harass me, Hawke?”

“Not exactly, but I have heard you’ve been poking around my business again.” Her tone was still light but her eyes were narrow, focused.

“The one good thing about this job is that I can keep tabs on how much trouble you’re causing.” Aveline’s tone mirrored Hawke’s own. 

“Aveline.” One word, but filled with all her frustration.

“You’ve been involving yourself in dangerous things Hawke.” He swore the guard had looked at him when she said it but he kept his mouth shut. “Stop courting death and I can stop keeping an eye on you.” She took a deep breath and looked to the floor for a moment, her face becoming a bit sad. “After everything we went through, after…” It hung in the air, Hawke looking at the ground as well now. Finally, Aveline lifted her head and looked at Hawke. “I look after my friends.”

Hawke gave her a little smile but didn’t say anything.

Switching gears the tall guard brushed aside their somber conversation, “So, what exactly are you doing here?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have some paying work for a friend would you?” Back to her more relaxed tones now.

“Actually,” and that was all Anders heard as Aveline pulled Sekhmet away to talk in hushed tones in the corner. 

Hawke scowled every now and then while the two of them spoke and he had a brief flash of hope that t Hawke might just leave and try again later, when he wasn’t with her. Right now he could feel eyes on him and it made him uncomfortable. He should be used to it; he was usually the tallest person in the room, although the room usually wasn’t filled with city guards. Anyone of whom might figure out who or at least what he was and arrest him to be dragged to the Gallows. Why hadn’t he waited outside? Oh, right, loitering outside the Viscount’s Keep looked suspicious.

Aveline nodded finally and walked away,Hawke rejoined him and Bethany.

“So, it looks like there has been an ambush set up on Sundermount, probably for a caravan. It’s not exactly on Aveline’s watch but it needs to be taken care of. Aveline says she knows a shortcut to the area so we won’t be kept out on the mountain overnight.” And did she ever look disappointed about that.

Aveline rejoined them with a small pack on her back, “Supplies, just in case.”

Hawke nodded and the four of them left the Keep. Once they were down the long staircase Hawke stopped, “Aveline, this is Anders. He’s a healer.”

Aveline’s eyes narrowed, “An apostate?”

Hawke nodded, “Yes.”

“Hawke, I can’t…” She looked angry.

Hawke cut her off, “You can or we won’t be working together.”

Anders just stood there quietly waiting to see what would happen. He’d run if he needed to, he knew a quick way into Darktown from where they were and he could get lost among the refugees in moments. He felt the guard’s green as grass eyes looking him over carefully. He stood still, confident; let her think what she will. And she didn’t even know the worst part.

“You’ve worked with him before?” The guardswoman asked, quieter, more reserved.

“I haven’t done a whole lot without him since I met him a few months ago.” Hawke wasn’t pushing either. No brashness, no smart remarks, not even a spark of her humor. How very odd.

Aveline’s gaze traveled up to his face finally. “You wouldn’t happen to be the healer running the clinic in Darktown would you?”

Anders couldn’t help himself they were all so serious. He gave an exaggerated bow, “At your service, serrah.” 

She snorted, “No wonder you’re friends with Hawke, birds of feather right? You do good work; the Fereldens I meet speak very highly of you. I suppose if you run a free clinic and Hawke is vouching for you, you can’t be all bad.”

“I’m not bad at all, I’m quite good or so I’m told.” The woman was a natural straight man, he couldn’t stop himself.

She just shook her head, only a slight crinkling by her eyes any indication that she was amused at all. “Oh yes, definitely a friend of Hawke’s.”

Hawke rolled her eyes at the exchange, “Are we ready then?”

A half day’s hike later and they found the bandits entrenched on Sundermount. The fight was brutal and protracted. And when the battle was over, the bandits lying dead, they found that the weapons and armor they wore were good quality, not the usual fare for bandits and thieves.

Hawke scanned the area before turning back to Aveline, “Is it just me or did they seem better trained too?”

Aveline nodded, “No, I agree. Something’s odd, but dead is dead, right? Let’s head back to the Keep, I’ll tell the Captain and we can collect you’re reward.”

The walk back to the Keep was mostly silent. He wasn’t really paying attention to the others, he had his own worries. Kirkwall was a hot bed for criminals; they nearly outnumbered the rest of the city’s population. And as well equipped and trained as the bandits were he knew they belonged to a faction, not just a run of the mill group of thieves. 

Likely they were Coterie. He’d dealt with them several times before and they weren’t to be trifled with. When they reached the Keep he moved close to Hawke, positioning himself between the sisters so Bethany wouldn’t overhear. “I have a bad feeling about all this. Kirkwall has a huge criminal underground. We might have just bitten off more than we can chew.”

Hawke shook her head, as Aveline went into her captain’s office and closed the door. “Don’t worry about it. I know a thing or two about the criminal underground around here. They won’t attack us unless there is a very, very good reason.”

She seemed very sure of that, her attitude had been almost cocky but he didn’t push it further, couldn’t have even if he wanted to because at that moment shouting erupted from the captain’s office. The captain was giving Aveline a dressing down for interfering with someone else’s patrol. He even went so far as to threaten to jail Aveline and Hawke.

Aveline came out of the office and the door slammed behind her. Her face scarlet and her jaw set in anger. “Threaten my friends; I’m not letting that one go, captain.” She spoke with a quiet intensity and Anders realized what a bad idea it would be to get on her bad side.

Hawke gave her a wry little smile, “So, no reward, huh?”

Aveline scowled, “Something’s not right. This isn’t the first time he’s made me wonder.”

Hawke pushed off the wall she was leaning on and strolled over to the duty roster. “Well we can drop it, like your odd Captain suggests. Or, we can have some more fun and find out whose ass we just saved.”

He sighed softly, supposing it was too much to hope either of them would just let it go. 

As she got close a mousy looking brunette came barreling towards Aveline with her brow furrowed, “Aveline, I have to thank you for taking care of that business up on the pass. I would have been dead for sure.” 

“That was oddly convenient.” Hawke raised an eyebrow, “You had that patrol alone?”

She nodded, “Yeah, shouldn’t have needed anyone besides me. That place has been quiet for weeks. Captain had me turn over the satchel to Donnic when he heard what happened.”

It was Aveline’s turn to raise a brow, “Satchel?”

The mousy brunette nodded again, “Yeah, Captain has us do runs when we have quiet patrols. Mostly it’s a copy of the updated roster. Satchel for that night was heavy though.” She gave a little shrug, obviously dismissing the whole incident. “Thanks again, Aveline, you’re a good one.” She disappeared back into the room she had come from as quickly and brusquely as she had appeared.

Aveline was studying the duty roster. “The satchel gets heavy the same night as there is a bandit attack?” She shook her head as she skimmed the roster, “Donnic, Donnic, a good man. Ah, got him, night time patrol in Lowtown.” She turned to Hawke, “We have to check this out, he might be in danger.”

“Of course, Aveline, let’s go find him.”

He had watched the whole scene a bit dispassionately, resigning himself to being pulled into whatever was going on. As the four of them headed to Lowtown he noted that Aveline didn’t smile much and that on the few occasions that Hawke smiled it was at the red haired woman rather than with her. Hawke seemed gentle with the woman for some reason, far more so than she was with anyone else.

He wondered about it as they trekked through the city. He realized he didn’t know a whole lot about Hawke. Like who was this woman who had come from Lothering with them? The two of them seemed to have a sort of protective feeling towards each other, but they didn’t seem to exactly be friends. How had they met and what bonded them? Was it just the Blight?

He dropped back a little to fall into step beside Bethany; she gave him a small smile and flushed. He ignored it; he had more pressing questions and now was not the best time to address the matter of the girl’s crush anyway. “So, how do you two know Aveline?”

Bethany chewed her lip for a moment, “It’s a not very funny, funny story.”

“Alright.” Even more confused.

She was fiddling with a corner of her chainmail, not looking at him as she spoke. “When we were escaping Lothering we came across Aveline and her husband Wesley.”

“Oh, she’s married?” The way Bethany bit her lip again told him he had stumbled across something unpleasant. 

“When we found them they were alone, fighting a pocket of Darkspawn.” She smiled a little, “You should have seen Aveline. She was so tough, so...amazing.” The smile faltered then slipped away again. “Wesley was injured right before we came upon them. But between Aveline, and the three of us we killed the rest of the Darkspawn that had been attacking them. It was only afterwards we realized Wesley was a Templar.”

He felt the blood leave his face, had Hawke killed Aveline’s husband? Everyone knew Hawke held no love for Templars, but that didn’t make any sense. They weren’t exactly comfortable together, but neither were they at each other’s throats, far from it in fact. He kept his mouth shut and let Bethany continue. Wild conjecture was pointless when he had Bethany to question. For a moment he felt guilty, like he was exploiting the girl’s crush for information and on her sister no less. _“See little Hawke, I’m a bad man.”_ The girl needed a gentleman, not a cynical possessed mage.

Bethany kept talking, sweet thing that she was, so openly sharing her life. “Needless to say he realized I was an apostate. I thought Sekhmet was going to gut him right there, her dagger already pointing at him as she hissed at him angrily. It was…” she snorted, “pure Sekhmet. But before Sekhmet killed the man Aveline intervened. She convinced us all to work together until we were clear of the Blight, because it was a bigger threat. Sekhmet wasn’t pleased, but she agreed with prompting from both me and Carver, obviously the more of us there were, the better our chances were for survival.

Unfortunately, Wesley was so badly injured he couldn’t help us fight, so we had to protect him as well as mother. We were hitting so many pockets of Darkspawn I conserved my mana for fighting. He wasn’t bleeding terribly, and could walk alright so I figured why waste my mana.”

He nodded; it was hard to make calls like that when you were in a situation with Darkspawn. There were always so bloody many of them. He looked up and saw that Aveline and Hawke were deep in conversation, it was probably better; he wasn’t sure how they would feel about him digging into their business.

“It didn’t end up mattering anyway, Wesley had the Blight sickness. His skin became pale and clammy looking with long black veins running over it. His eyes became unfocused then clouded over. He knew he was dying and begged Aveline to kill him instead of letting him suffer or be a burden to us as we tried to survive. I thought Sekhmet was going to offer to do it at first, not because of how she feels about Templars but we could all see how it was eating at Aveline.

“The two of them just stared at each other for a few minutes before Sekhmet told her, ‘He’s your husband, the decision is yours,’ and moved back a little. I thought I would be sick. He was her husband, how could she kill him? He tucked a dagger into her hand and gave her a smile telling her to be brave. So she…” Bethany’s eyes got a little misty. “she just did it.”

His stomach turned, it almost seemed cruel that Hawke made Aveline kill her own husband, but how would Aveline have handled traveling with a woman who had killed her husband, regardless of the reason. Maybe Hawke knew what she was doing, at a loss he kept silent and listened to Bethany.

She nodded towards the two women in front of them. “I don’t know if they exactly like each other. But they respect each other. I think Aveline is one of the few people we know that understands my sister. Not necessarily the things that she does, but the way she thinks. Either one of them would give everything they had to protect the other. It’s the closest thing to a real friend that I can remember Sekhmet having.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “Really? But everyone seems to like her.”  
Bethany shrugged, “Yeah, but she doesn’t really trust them.”

“She doesn’t trust the people she fights with everyday? Doesn’t she kind of have too; I mean everyone has to watch out for each other.” Though, who was he kidding, he had been a Warden, just because you fought together didn’t mean you trusted each other. He had never trusted Rolan.

Bethany laughed, “Then you’re seeing something I’m not. Most of the time Sekhmet fights like she’s all alone out there, like she has to kill everything herself.”

“We’re close, be ready.” Aveline’s voice was quiet but easily carried to the two of them.

They heard a commotion coming from an alley and they quickly headed down it. A young city guard stood surrounded by well armed bandits. He was doing an admirable job of fighting them off but they outnumbered him by a large margin.

One of the bandits struck him in the back of the head and he went down, but by then Aveline and Hawke were already cutting into the bandits surrounding the now unconscious man to protect him while Bethany was throwing fireballs, scattering and charring those on the fringes of the group, being careful of Aveline and Hawke in the middle. 

Anders used ice to incapacitate the bandits, slowing them down for Aveline and Hawke to dispatch. He didn’t want to use too much offensive magic and worry Aveline. Of course, he took care of any injuries they sustained, though there were only a couple scrapes. 

Finally, the bandits all lay dead around them and Aveline went to help the dazed guard to his feet. The guard stammered out something about Aveline being a beautiful sight and Anders saw Aveline smile for the first time and was a little charmed by it; it was tentative and almost shy. Endearing in the fierce woman she tried, and mostly succeeded, to portray.

Hawke was looking through the dropped satchel. She shook her head and he crouched beside her to take a look. “Office accounts, schedules,” he sighed, “definitely not the kind of information you want thieves to get their hands on.”

Hawke let out a harsh laugh, “Guard Captain, Aveline I think your boss is looking to become a politician.”

He was inclined to agree but Aveline’s sour expression kept him quiet. “This isn’t the time Hawke. The Captain is giving away government secrets with a guard as the sacrificial lamb. He will answer for this.” She headed out of the alley supporting Donnic as they left muttering under her breath. “He likes his thieves so much, let’s see how he likes being imprisoned with them.” 

Bethany walked next to Aveline, probably waiting quietly to see if Aveline wanted her to heal Donnic. Aveline had waived her off before Donnic had been completely conscious telling Bethany she didn’t need the complication. Perhaps Aveline thought Donnic hadn’t noticed the two mages throwing around ice and giant fireballs.

He chuckled a little at the thought and Bethany looked back at him with her cheeks pink before quickly looking away. He was going to have to find a way to deal with that soon. For now he just admired her stamina. They had spent the entire day running around Kirkwall and fighting. He was exhausted, feeling every inch the old man while Bethany was still walking with a little bounce in her step.

He fell into step beside Hawke who was strolling slowly as she pored over the documents in the satchel. She glanced up and gave him a smile then returned to her reading, her white hair falling over her shoulder. He tried not to think about how often he walked beside her and watched her, it just felt comfortable to be with her. At least until she decided to tease him again  
.  
But he had a specific agenda tonight, “So Aveline’s the all business type?”, trying to learn more about the odd relationship between the two women.

Hawke stuffed the sheaf of papers back in the satchel and looked at him as she continued to walk. “She was a soldier in King Cailan’s army. I think it comes with the territory.” Looking at Aveline she paused for a moment before she gave a little sigh, “She’s still trying to find a way to beat back the scars that day left on all of us.”

“When you found her and Wesley?” His heart sped up a little when he realized she would know he had been prying information from her sister. Maybe he would be lucky and she wouldn’t notice.

No such luck, she was clearly surprised, but not angry. “Uh, no, the day at Ostagar. Carver and I fought that day too, Carver was a soldier, I was just a local conscript.” She took a slow breath her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, like just speaking was wearing her out. The past could do that to you sometimes. “What Loghain did, well I’m not sure Aveline will ever really get over it. A man who had been one of her heroes abandoned us all to die, including the king. I mean, you know what happened, I’m sure. But it was different for those who were there. I think it stole a piece of her, maybe she’ll get lucky and find it again.”

“And what about you? Did you lose something that day?” She was too young to have seen so much, to have lost so much. Seeing her father murdered in front of her, facing the Blight and Loghain’s betrayal and then to watch her brother die after the two of them managed to survive Ostagar. 

Hawke shook her head, “Anything I could have lost that day was gone a long time ago.” Her hand stirred, lifted a little from her side before she dropped it again, a gesture he was becoming intimately familiar with. Her eyes showed all the experience of her life for a moment. There were moments, like this one, where Sekhmet seemed older than any of them. She flashed him a smile and winked at him, destroying the illusion. “But don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

And that was her shutting down, conversation over. He could try to push her but decided not to argue with her, he had already pushed her enough. If she wanted to stop talking about it he would honor that. Besides, Aveline seemed to temper her, made her more somber and he wasn’t sure what to make of this more subdued woman yet. He let himself fall back behind her so he wouldn’t be tempted to push, wouldn’t intrude on her thoughts. Silently, he followed the three women and Donnic to the Viscount’s Keep.

Aveline woke the seneschal to give him the disturbing news of what they had found. Looking through the satchel the Seneschal immediately had the Captain arrested. He kept Aveline and Hawke to answer questions, Anders was just happy he didn’t get roped into that mess. The Captain had been dragged out kicking and screaming.

He and Bethany went outside to get away from the commotion and to wait for Hawke. Anders quickly became lost in his thoughts. Ostagar, the word was like a curse now. The place that had brought a country to its knees. The place where a Hero turned into a villain, a mass murderer. A place filled with monsters that had changed the course of history.

His brother had died there, a man he had never met. A man he sometimes thought of as foolish and other times as incredibly brave. A man who had died trying to live up to the legacy of their father. Sometimes he nearly wept for Cailan, especially after talking to ‘Reyna about him.

Ostagar had brought ‘Reyna and Alistair together but at such a terrible price. And perhaps that was the one good thing to come out of that awful place. Two people who never would have met were thrown together and fell in love because of that awful battle, that terrible betrayal.

Even the word brought a haunted look to all of those who had been there. ‘Reyna, Alistair, Wynn, even Zevran was subdued at its mention and he had not been at the battle, had only seen the terrible aftermath. Seeing Cailan strung up like a prize had shaken him, even though he never admitted it out loud. And now Hawke, she’d had that haunted look too.

Everytime he thought he understood what that terrible nightmare was, he was presented with something more to send his head spinning again. His thoughts were interrupted by Bethany.

Her voice was a little timid as she spoke. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Just thinking.” Yes, a string of sad memories that would spiral him down into melancholy. A pattern he couldn’t seem to break.

“Are you thinking about her?” A little waver in her voice now.

He turned finally to look at her, curious about her voice. The girl wouldn’t even look him in the eye and she was fiddling with a corner of her chainmail again. “About who Beth?”

She smiled a little, “I like it when you call me Beth.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” Harmless right?

She sobered again. “Were you thinking about my sister? You look at her differently than you look at me.”

Nice, how to maneuver through this mess. “Well, you’re different people, so it makes sense I would look at you differently.”

“I’m not as innocent and naïve as you seem to think.” Her chin jutted defiantly and he almost smiled, it was just so cute. She took a deep breath, “Anders, I…” She stopped her cheeks flaming crimson before she lowered her head a little. “What were you thinking about?”

He chose to ignore her little lapse, considered himself lucky she didn’t say anything to make this more awkward. “I was thinking about Ostagar and the people I know that fought there.”

She seemed to relax at his confession. “Oh?”

“It just really affected their lives a great deal. Look at you and your family, at Aveline. So much forced change, so much upheaval.” He tapered off; he didn’t really want to talk about it now.

“Just another move.” She mumbled, not looking at him, her eyes downcast.

Anders didn’t respond, what could he possibly say, so the two of them lapsed into silence again. He wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there but it was late when Hawke finally emerged from the Keep. She strolled down and stood a few steps below them.

She gave a little snort, “They’re going to make Aveline the new Captain.”

Bethany laughed, “Well isn’t that just about perfect for her?”

Hawke nodded, “Don’t guess we’ll be seeing much of her anymore, being criminals and all.”

Bethany shook her head, “She’ll make time, you know her. She never gets enough of doing the right thing.”

Hawke gave a half hearted smile, “Yes, she is quite tedious.” A big yawn, “Hmmm, maybe we should head back to uncle Gamlen’s.”

He nodded, “Come on, I’ll walk with you.” Bethany beamed at him and fell into step beside him. He turned to look at Hawke who already seemed lost in her own thoughts. But she fell into step with them, walking next to him after just a brief moment and they all headed back to Lowtown.


	9. My Lioness: Collecting Crazy-Unlaced

The walk back to Lowtown seemed to take ages. Bethany tried to start conversations with Anders a few times but he was preoccupied with Hawke. She still looked as if her thoughts were elsewhere and she kept silent, rare in and of itself, and it worried him.

She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin had a sickly pallor to it. Was the illness rearing its head again? He thought she had recovered from that, but wasn't so sure seeing her now. How many jobs had she taken while she had left him alone in his clinic for those four days? He was certain she hadn't looked like that when they had last parted ways.

Periodically, she pushed her escaping hair back from her forehead with a sigh. Had her somber mood been just because of Aveline or was there something else going on? Her gaze seemed to snap back into focus a split second before she scowled down at her left hand. She flexed it slowly with a wince. 

"Stop, take the glove off and let me see it." He stopped and waited for her to comply, it would give him a chance to check her for any signs of illness as well.

"It's fine Anders. I just bruised it yesterday and now it's stiff." She started to walk but stopped when neither he nor Bethany followed her. She scowled at both of them, "You are both aware that I already have a mother, right?"

"Enough lip Hawke, let me see the hand." They both knew he didn't need to see it, didn't need to touch it to tell what was wrong and to fix it. But he would all the same and she wouldn't stop him, she never did.

He saw a flash of teeth and could have sworn he heard her growl before she slowly began tugging the glove off. He winced himself seeing the ugly bruising. It was deep purple and ran up half her hand as well as down over two of her fingers. With the glove off he could see how swollen it was, clearly it was broken and she had been fighting like that all day.

Bethany gasped from behind him, "Why didn't you tell me, sis. I could have at least helped with the pain a little if you didn't want to see Anders."

He gently took her hand, careful about where he touched it and let his magic flow through her hand, checking the damage. The break was quite bad, half a dozen bones with hair line fractures and of course the fracturing of the bone at the base of her pinky was quite severe. The last break was all too familiar to Anders who treated men who had been drunk and brawling all too often. She had clearly gotten her little injury from punching someone, no wonder she didn't want to show him.

A wave of irritation flowed over him, irritation that he had upset her enough that she had stayed away from him even in light of this injury, irritation that she had made such a big deal out of him healing Fenris so that he hadn't been with her when it happened. And then she had thought to hide it from him, and had nearly succeeded. She was so damned stubborn.

"And just who was it that pissed you off so much you decked them instead of using your weapons?" He was gratified when she colored slightly.

"Do you really want to know?" She asked quietly.

He really did want to know for a moment, but her somber state all day as well as her placidly taking his admonishment made him reconsider. This quieter Hawke was still throwing him a bit. Maybe he could lighten the situation; he'd had a talent for it once. "Let me guess. A man that was a little too 'hands on'? Some poor random bastard that looked at you wrong when you were deep into your cups? Or maybe he looked at Beth wrong? Oh, a templar? I vote for a templar. Actually, no I don't. Fenris, please tell me it was Fenris. And if it wasn't him don't tell me, I can have beautiful dreams about you decking that whiny little elf."

She had smirked a little at the beginning and by the end he had her giggling. A shiver ran down his spine that had felt good, really good. It'd been a while since he'd been able to make someone laugh like that. As a bonus, by the time he had finished his little game her hand was completely healed and there were no signs of returning illness. Maker, she was beautiful when she laughed, too bad it did nothing for the dark circles under her eyes. He needed to stop playing games and get her home so she could sleep. 

And he needed to figure out what he was going to do about Bethany who was hovering by his elbow giggling with her sister. A year ago things would have been very different. Bethany was young and nubile, showed more skin than her sister and was certainly better endowed. A year ago he might not have given Hawke a second glance and gone straight after her sister. Young, beautiful and impressionable, a young woman who was just starting to learn about her power over men. Her innocence would have been like catnip to him then.

But with Justice had come a conscience. Well, a more developed one than he'd already had. His taste in women had already started to change a bit before that, and he liked to think that he had been more responsible about dalliances at the Keep. He'd actually tried not to break any hearts while he was there, had tried not to take advantage, although sometimes it was hard not to. Vulnerable women were just…they were…they appealed both to the healer and the cad in him.

"Anders?" Hawke was smiling at him as she looked at him a little curiously.

"Hmm? Did I miss something?" He asked mildly, forgetting about his less than gentlemanly past.

"I asked if you were done." She lifted her hand a little and he found he was still holding it.

He released her hand carefully and slowly, not wanting to hurt her again. He shied from her touch too often as it was. He saw Hawke look past him for a minute before dropping her eyes almost guiltily and tugging her glove back on. When he glanced back he saw Bethany standing rigidly, very studiously not looking at him, her face scarlet.

See, a wandering mind is nothing but trouble. Wouldn't she have been surprised to know she had been the subject of that little lapse? "Beth, do yourself a favor and don't get old, it makes you forget too many things." When she looked at him he gave her a close approximation of a smile. Be nice, just not too nice he reminded himself.

She seemed to relax a least a little and he felt a little relieved in return. Hawke, finished with her glove, started out towards Gamlen's place again. Lapsing back into silence though she had a little smile now, something he was way more proud of than he should be. After a few minutes she leaned over a little as they walked, bumping him a little with her shoulder.

"Thanks, Anders." Her voice was just a soft whisper; she obviously didn't want Bethany to hear her.

So, instead of replying he just gave a little nod. Apparently, it was enough to upset the precarious balance with Bethany and she moved closer to him, so close he had to be careful with his arm so as not to brush against her. He could just imagine Hawke's reaction if he let his arm brush against her sister's ample chest. Aren't sisters fun?

The night was beginning to remind him of a circus Rhoswyn had taken him to as a child where he had seen tight rope walkers. They were getting close to Gamlen's though, he could go home and recover, or more likely agonize over all the things he should have done differently. One thing was sure though, he was going to try to avoid being alone with the two sisters in the future. 

As they neared the Hanged Man Bethany spoke up a little hesitantly. "Can we stop?"

Hawke gave her an odd look, one he was sure was echoed on his own face as Hawke spoke. "You want to go have a drink?"

"S…sure. And we could say hi to Varric." Bethany stammered, she turned to him, "You've got time for one drink, don't you?"

He took a deep breath, well this certainly wasn't good. Hawke was so clearly tired and things with Bethany had been unsafe to say the least. Maybe she was taking advantage of Hawke's worn state while she wasn't constantly flirting and teasing him. "Actually, Bethany," he paused and looked to Hawke who was grinning at him eyes suddenly bright, obviously fully aware of Bethany's intentions and she had no plans to help him, damn her. "I should get back to the clinic, I have patients in the morning and I need to get to bed."

Hawke raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing his discomfort. "Want some company?" That was Hawke, always helping. At least she was joking with him again, exhausted as she seemed.

He looked to Bethany who looked crestfallen and paused to weigh his options he needed a compromise, something that wouldn't upset Beth too much and wouldn't make Hawke angry either. "One drink, Justice won't allow me to have any more than that. He nags like an old woman, then I really need to go."

Bethany smiled at him and with a quiet sigh he pushed open the door to the tavern holding it open while Bethany and Hawke went inside. He followed them in, already feeling anxious, there was no way he was getting out of there without making things worse he knew it. He'd say something stupid and hurt Beth or piss off Hawke, knowing his luck probably both. His head was beginning to ache already.

Hawke and Bethany had both stopped short staring towards the bar. He slipped in behind Hawke and looked over her head to figure out what they were staring at. The tall dark skinned woman in what could hardly be called clothes was obviously what had caught their attention, had caught the entire bar's attention in fact. She calmly threw back a drink as three men were surrounding her, hassling her. Seeing her outnumbered he had been sure Hawke would step in but she just stayed where she was and watched.

"Hawke, don't you think we should lend the woman a hand?" He asked quietly, not sure why he was looking for more trouble. Though, maybe getting involved in the altercation would give him a way to get out of his agreement to share a drink with the Hawke sisters.

"She doesn't need help." She took a few steps forward but only so she could get a better look. 

"Are you sur…" he didn't get chance to finish the sentence before the woman was bouncing one of the men's head off the bar.

A fight quickly broke out and was over nearly as quickly as it started. The three men limped out of the bar holding each other up as the woman tossed back her drink with a laugh. He'd figured that was that, although he was curious how Hawke had known the woman wouldn't need any help. But of course, Hawke being Hawke, she walked right up to the woman.

"Buy you a drink?" Her voice was a little huskier than usual and he felt a little tingle down the back of his neck.

The dark skinned woman glanced at Hawke, "Thanks".

Hawke waived the bartender over and ordered drinks for all of them. He watched as Hawke glanced over the woman's shoulder. "Those blades are beautiful. I can't remember the last time I saw any so sharp."

In response the woman grinned and did a little bow, "I'm Isabela." 

Anders was waiting for her to fall out of her dress…tunic? He wasn't sure, but it was very revealing. And her clearly long legs were encased in boots that stopped at mid thigh. And were those her smalls he spotted through the slit in the side of her outfit? The woman screamed sex and trouble. Weren't they already at their quota for women who were trouble?

Isabela stood back up straight and flashed a smile that said she knew exactly what effect she had on all the men in the tavern and liked it. She and Hawke grabbed the drinks when they came and Isabela led them to a table. He sat down hoping to finish his drink quickly then disappear.

Isabela took a long pull on her drink then gave a little sigh. "I used to be Captain Isabela, but…well I no longer have a ship or a crew." She looked Hawke over then continued with both him and Bethany. "You know, you might be just the help I was looking for."

Hawke chuckled, "I buy you a drink and now you want help too?"

Isabela laughed and it was a low sensuous sound. "I can make it worth your while, if you'd like." And if that wasn't completely laden with innuendo…the woman could give Hawke a run for her money.

"And why do you want my help, you don't even know me." But she was grinning and Anders knew the night was far from over. 

"You're Ferelden, I can tell, you have that look about you. Fereldens tend to be more honest than other folks." She smiled again, "You know, I actually know the Hero of Ferelden. And by know…well you get the picture."

"Bull shit," he cut in. There was no way this woman had been with Sareyna. She'd been with Alistair during the Blight she wouldn't have… His stomach did a little flip as he remembered a conversation from a night that seemed eons ago now when he and Alistair had discussed having a threesome with a pirate woman.

Isabela shrugged, "Believe what you want, but I can tell you about this wicked looking scar she has…"

"Enough," he snapped, she didn't need to be talking about Sareyna's body like it was public knowledge.

"Woah, calm down big guy." She was giving him an odd look.

"Anders, are you alright?" Hawke looked worried.

"Yeah, the woman's a national hero and deserves a little respect." He calmed himself, the pirate woman was harmless.

"Anyway, to get back to my original point, I need a hand with a duel I set up. I'm pretty sure the guy's not going to play fair and it would be nice to have someone watch my back." She was a little more somber now, and seemed a little wary of him.

"Oh, I can definitely watch your back for you." Her eyes never left the former pirate.

And was he just imagining it or was Hawke flirting with this woman? Was there anyone she wouldn't flirt with? Could Hawke actually be interested in women? He dropped that thought quickly knowing if he didn't he'd be having more sleepless nights, with all new fantasies. Hawke's alabaster skin against Isabela's café au lait anyone?

So, a drink with the white haired, sad eyed vixen and her smitten sister turned into a bloody battle in the Chantry in the dead of night. Isabela had been right. Her opponent, a man named Hayder, had sent mercenaries to kill her instead of meeting her for the duel. After killing the mercenaries they headed to the Chantry where Hayder was hiding like a coward. Apparently, in Kirkwall there was no honor, even among thieves.

So they broke into the Chantry in the middle of the night, again. Hayder was an arrogant bastard that Isabela decided to shut up quickly. Using one of the wicked blades that Hawke had admired she threw it across the room and it embedded deep into the chest of the woman beside Hayder. Had she missed or had she really meant to hit the woman? Personally, he would have taken Hayder out first, less fuss that way.

He didn't have a whole lot of time to contemplate it as they were dragged into another fight. There were far more people hiding in the shadows of the Chantry than he had thought possible and the battle was long and hard won. The four of them stood there catching their breaths, Hawke giggling like mad, she always loved a good fight.

"Well, that was fun. I'd say a little warning would have been nice but I'm notoriously bad at it myself." She wiped her hands on her armor leaving dark wet smears on the black leather. "You should go get that dagger, be a shame to forget it."

Isabela pulled her dagger from the woman's chest glaring at her. "Traitorous bitch." She spit at the corpse.

Hawke looked at the pirate woman curiously, brow raised in query. "I take it you know her?"

She snorted, "Take it from me sugar, if you ever have a ship of your own don't let any other women on it."

"I'll remember that, now maybe you could let me know exactly what I dragged myself into?" Sharp as her name she watched Isabela lean casually back against a pillar.

"Long version or short?" She still held her dagger in her hand, running her fingers along the grooves in the hilt. She wanted to appear casual but she was actually a bit nervous if he was any judge.

"Am I going to miss something important if I take the short version?" Good girl calling her on it like that.

Isabela sighed deeply and re-sheathed her dagger. "No, not really."

"Well, get on with it then. Some of us would like to see a bed tonight." She made a long slow perusal of Isabela, gaze noticibly lingering on her bare thighs and then the dark creamy curves of the woman's breasts. There was the Hawke he knew…kind of. 

Isabela gave her a fake pout, "You wouldn't tease a girl would you, Ferelden?"

Hawke just gave her a sexy little smile.

"Alright, I was hired to escort a cargo ship. I got a bad feeling, checked out the cargo ship and found it full of slaves. So, I freed them. The man that hired me sent me after a relic to repay him for freeing his slaves. I got the relic, got caught in a storm lost my boat and barely made it to shore. So now I'm being hunted." She gave Hawke a little smile, "Brief enough?"

"Who's hunting you?" Gone was the relaxed teasing Hawke, instead she was on high alert.

The pirate rubbed her head, clearly not wanting to share anymore. "His name is Castillon, a…well he calls himself a merchant...he has his fingers in a lot of profitable if not completely legal pots. And I think he has ties to the Felicisima Armada." She gave a little shrug at the end like it was no big deal.

He couldn't keep his silence anymore. "Are you saying you dragged us into a mess with an Antivan crime lord?"

Isabela gave him a cheeky smile, "Yes, I suppose you could say it that way."

He turned to Hawke looking for a little support, "She's going to get us all killed."

Hawke chuckled, "Are you trying to tell me she's dangerous, Anders? Seriously, you?"

He didn't have a response to that; he was dangerous as was Fenris and even Merrill with her blood magic. There was no way he was winning this argument. He just nodded and took a few steps away trying to clear his head.

Had he thought his life was complicated before? Every day he spent following Hawke he found himself pulled deeper and deeper into the insanity of Kirkwall. Although, today he had learned something new and _very_ interesting about Hawke. After the pirate thanked Hawke for her help, Isabela invited Hawke back to her room at the Hanged Man.

Hawke had looked the woman over with a hungry look and smiled but didn't respond. Turned out he might not be the only item on the elder Hawke's menu. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that, but he couldn't deny the pirate was good looking and a woman who lusted after other women was always exciting. 

With her dark skin, her dark hair and dark eyes Isabela was exotic enough. And there were those inappropriate thoughts again, snow white hair against honey colored skin. Focus on something else, like the heavy ornate choker around her throat of an almost gaudy gold. It matched her earrings and even the small labret stud she had, as well as the handles of her daggers. His first assessment had been right; this woman was going to be trouble, she practically reeked of it, trouble and cheap whiskey.

He walked with the three women back to Lowtown. Obviously, having just watched them obliterate a whole Chantry full of thugs he knew they could take care of themselves. But it didn't feel right just leaving them to walk back alone, so he found himself walking the women back to Lowtown yet again. Apparently, among other things, Justice had made him a bit of a gentleman.

Right, the gentleman who occasionally glows blue and burns people to ash.

Bethany made no comment about stopping for drinks at the Hanged Man when Isabela said her good nights. She looked distinctly uncomfortable as the pirate tried once more to convince Hawke to join her. Hawke gave her a smile that Anders felt all the way to the base of his spine, begging off due to fatigue and promised to think about it once she was rested.

Once they reached Gamlen's house Bethany went straight inside. He and Hawke just stared after her for a minute before taking a few steps herself. She paused for a moment and seemed about to say something but then stopped and started heading up the stairs slowly again, the fatigue clearly dragging at her. 

"Hawke?" he wasn't sure what possessed him, ha ha, to call her back. 

She stopped and turned back to face him and for a moment Anders thought he saw her looking a little lost and sad, but it was gone in a flash, replaced with her customary little smirk. "Yes, handsome?"

He grasped for something to say, why had he called her back? Hadn't today been exhausting enough without getting into a deeper tangle with Hawke? Then remembered Bethany's earlier invitation. "Your sister…"

Hawke's face contorted and she glared at him, "You touch her and I'll kill you myself."

He put his hands up in supplication. "I was just going to ask if you could talk to her. Convince her I'm too dangerous, too old, something. I'm not interested, but she's young, I don't want to hurt her."

Hawke relaxed a little but still looked uneasy and very tired, "Yeah, alright."

He took a breath, not sure what to say, but he was worried about her. So the first thing that came to his mind of course was Fenris, whom he knew would be going with Hawke tomorrow. "Be careful with Fenris, he's dangerous."

"And gorgeous," she quipped, barely a pause.

He winced and Sekhmet chuckled quietly.

"Aw, come on Anders, I've seen you looking at him. You were thinking the same thing I was. Wouldn't it be fun to gag him, tie him down and lick those pretty tattoos?" Her eyes had become over bright again, their crystalline blue nearly glowing in the dim light of Lowtown.

Now there was an image that would be keeping him up tonight. Fenris tied down, helpless, gagged so they didn't need to listen to him complaining about mages while he stroked his fingers over the bound man, it had been driving him crazy wondering if those lines would feel raised or not, and Hawke hovered over the dark skinned elf licking those lyrium tattoos wearing…He shook his head, no, no, no, no, he was not going to imagine that at all he was just going to push all of those thoughts right out of his head. 

He'd hoped that with time his need for sex would wane, but it didn't he just felt aroused and frustrated more often. His mind slipped into elaborate fantasies at the drop of a hat. He was losing his mind and Justice couldn't seem to understand that he was a sensual, a sexual creature and needed contact. 

So with his skin feeling hot, his heart galloping away in his chest and his imagination tugging at him he wasn't able to form a response right away.

And she of course noticed, "I don't mind sharing." She smirked.

He shook his head again, trying to concentrate on his original point not on the leather moulded so perfectly over her surprisingly wide hips. "The man's dangerous, Hawke."

Her smile faltered a little before it slid back in place, "He's easy enough to control." A quiet confidence behind her words.

Was that what she did to him? Did she use her sexuality to get him to do what she wanted? He hadn't thought about that possibility. "Like you control me?"

Pain flashed on her face again for an instant then was gone, leaving her face carefully blank. "You don't really think I do that to you, do you?"

Now that he was thinking about he was pretty sure she didn't do that to him. She may tease him but she always seemed to listen to him. And the pain he had seen flash across her features seemed to confirm it. "No, I suppose I don't." Justice always made it so hard to lie, even though it would have been easier.

She swallowed, suddenly looking much younger and he wondered again briefly how old she actually was. Stepping close to him she rested her hand on his arm, the light touch speeding up the wild beating of his heart. What was she doing? Why was she touching him? She needed to stop. It wasn't enough.

But she was just staring at where her hand rested on the fabric. "I don't know why, but I feel like I know you." He noticed her lower lip trembling a little before she looked up speaking again. "Don't you feel it?"

Dammit, what the Void was she doing? What was he doing, this was a very, very bad idea. But he found himself responding honestly again anyways. "I do." There was something about her, something he needed that called to him, that felt familiar.

She moved closer and his heart picked up speed again. When he thought she was going to kiss him he tensed, but she just laid her head on his chest for a moment. It took a conscious effort for him to keep his hands at his sides instead of pulling her against him completely. 

That moment, when she had moved closer to him, seeking something he just couldn't give her, she looked so lost, so tired and so sad a huge part of him just wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He knew what it was like to be in her place, to feel those things. Almost nightly he nearly drowned in those very same emotions. His whole life he had fought against them, had felt the crippling loneliness dealing with those emotions could cause. He had no answers for her though, and he knew if he got too close to her he would just hurt her.

He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides to keep from touching her, but he couldn't bring himself to move away from her. He liked the feel of her leaning on him, _"and,"_ he reasoned to himself, _"she seems to need it."_ What he didn't, couldn't admit to himself was that he needed it too, a little life line in the dark and murky waters that had become his life.

"Goodnight Anders." her voice was barely a whisper.

"Night Sekhmet." He was just as quiet, every cell in his body begging her to put her arms around him. _"Just hold me, I'll hold you back, I promise."_ Just wishful thinking, needs that could never be voiced, never be met.

It was like a peak through a door you were forbidden from entering. A brief glimpse of the light and warmth inside, but knowing you could never bask in that light could never let the chill go, chased away by the comfortable warmth in that forbidden room. So close to ecstasy, so much closer to torture. He felt a brief rush of something through him, a loosening of something, an easement. 

He was confused by the feeling but brushed it aside, enjoying the feel of her head on his chest. Images again, her curled up with him in bed, head resting on his chest. His arm draped lightly around her, holding her close. Not sexual, just comforting and relaxing. Another glimpse behind the forbidden door. 

Her hand slid up his arm a bit and she nuzzled against his chest shifting herself closer to him. "Anders?"

They jerked apart when they heard the door slam. 

"Shit." Hawke whirled away and ran up the steps.

He felt the loss of her weight against his chest almost like pain. Fists clenched tight, he turned and walked back to Darktown. He resolved to make himself scarce for a few days and forget everything that had just happened and not to call her Sekhmet again, it was too close, too intimate for some reason.


	10. Slavers In The Basement

Sekhmet stood in front of the door to Anders’ clinic, her hand was raised but she hadn’t knocked yet. It was harder than she imagined facing him again. Everytime she had looked for him to talk or to do a job for the last week he was oddly missing and it had really shaken her confidence which was a whole new experience for her when it came to men.

She took a deep breath steeling herself, just the thought of being near him again was giving her the feeling that she was being swept away. His voice struck something deep inside of her, it fluttered and vibrated in her solar plexus, his warm honey brown eyes entranced her, the smell of cool mountain lake that somehow clung to his skin even in Darktown’s stench took her breath away. She needed to get out of her head and get on with it already.

“Are you going to knock or just stand there and fantasize about him all day?” The words were meant to be teasing she knew but, there was just the slightest touch of bitterness in her sister’s voice.

Sekhmet nodded, “Sorry,” she knocked sharply on the door since the lanterns weren’t lit, trying to rein in the butterflies that were still circling in her stomach.

There was no response, he wasn’t going to avoid her again was he? Varric had sent the message to Anders because she had been afraid he wouldn’t read it. Hoping that he wouldn’t leave them in the lurch she turned to look at Varric and Bethany giving them a shrug. 

Poor Varric looked like he was literally sleeping on his feet. She felt bad about dragging him out of bed but hoped that by going so early most of the slavers would be asleep. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could slip in and out undetected. And her sweet sister Bethany looked incredibly bored verging on annoyance. 

She couldn’t blame her sister, the two of them had barely spoken in the last week, ever since Bethany had caught her and Anders doing...whatever it was. In fact Beth hadn’t said anything to her until this morning. On their way to The Hanged Man to get Varric she had stopped, taking Sekhmet’s arm to stop her as well.

Silence stretched between them for long minutes, she had no idea what to say to Bethany. She wasn’t exactly sorry and it didn’t even matter Anders had run away again, had hidden himself away from her. But he had been right about Bethany, she needed to get over this crush she had on him. She felt tension coiling in her temples a headache winding up, one that would likely lay her out for at least a day. 

Bethany caught her rubbing her temples, she held her hands up and a pale lavender magic coiled loose sinking into her temples. She sighed audibly with relief, Bethany was pushing the pain away and in just a few seconds was gone completely.

“Wow, you’re healing is really improving, won’t be long before we don’t need Anders at all.” It was meant teasingly but Bethany tensed beside her.

Her sister looked into her eyes for a few seconds before she spoke. “Do you really care for him Sekhmet or is he just…is he…” she didn’t finish but she didn’t have to her blush said it all.

“I honestly don’t know, Bethany. Sometimes it feels like I’m just attracted to him but sometimes I feel like there’s more, a lot more.” It was true, she didn’t know what that more was but wanted to figure it out.

Beth’s face clouded over but she remained calm when she spoke, “Do you think you could ever love him?”

She’d already asked herself a few times. “I don’t know that love is something I will ever experience, but of all the people I’ve known in my life he’s the only one I’ve considered the possibility with before.”

Her sister faced away from her, hiding her face. “You won’t hurt him?”

“I can’t promise that, no one can.” Maybe Beth had more than just a crush on Anders after all.

“Then promise you won’t let him feel all alone again. Show him it doesn’t need to be just him against the entire world.” Her voice was a little strained.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t force myself on him. He doesn’t seem to want anything like that from me.” Was that her voice thick with emotion?

Bethany turned back to look at her finally. “He does want it, he’s just afraid.” 

She wished it were true, so much of her wanted to believe that he felt something for her, something more than just an attraction. The idea of falling in love didn’t seem quite so laughable as it had in the past. But she was getting ahead of herself; the man couldn’t even bear a friendly touch from her. They were oceans and oceans away from anything that might resemble even affection. “I don’t know how to help him with that.”

Bethany giggled, “I know, you’ve never been afraid of anything in your whole life.”

She grinned back, “Hard to be afraid when you don’t have any sense.”

Her sister sighed, “I can’t promise not to ever get jealous, but I’m as done as I can be with my little infatuation. Anders isn’t the man for me.”

Her smile faltered and fell, “Are you sure? I don’t want you doing this for me. You deserve to be happy more than any of us.”

Bethany nodded, “He’s not interested in me. Barely knows I’m around half the time and I don’t want a man I have to hit over the head with a club to get him to notice me.”

“He pays plenty of attention to you, sis. You guys talk all the time.” The two of them could talk for hours while they hiked between jobs.

Bethany snorted, “He had plenty to say to mages, not me. I just happen to be a mage. I could be horse for all he cares.” 

Her morning had started off fairly well. Standing in front of Anders door, she hoped it wasn’t about to fall apart again. So, she turned back to the door and knocked again a bit louder this time. And again there was nothing but silence for several minutes. 

It seemed to take forever before she heard footsteps heading towards the door. She felt her stomach do a little flip when he finally opened the door wearing a long tunic laced tightly all the way to his neck and what looked to be woolen trousers. His feet were donned with very worn looking leather slippers. 

He looked like he hadn’t slept; his hair was down, one side tucked haphazardly behind his ear. His eyes scanned over them quickly, roving back and forth a little too rapidly. She wondered if he had been drinking too much coffee or something.

At length he waived them inside. “I’ll be just a few minutes. I didn’t realize it was time already. I apologize.” His hand scrubbed across his stubble, “Do I have time to shave quickly?”

Bethany giggled, “Well we certainly don’t want you to look anything less than your best for the slavers.”

Anders’ eyes flicked over to Sekhmet briefly and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. Was he worried about how he looked on her behalf? After another moment he nodded to Bethany, “I suppose it can wait until later.” Then disappeared through a door at the back of the clinic.

She wandered around the clinic taking in the different herbs that Anders had on hand. She was surprised he didn’t have a larger variety. She turned to Bethany, “Shouldn’t there be more herbs for salves and stuff in a clinic?”

Bethany nodded, “Yes, if this was an ordinary clinic, but Anders is a healer, a mage healer. He doesn’t need all those other things.”

She nodded, “I suppose, but he shouldn’t waste his mana on small things when he has so many patients. Every time I’ve come down here during the day he’s swamped. The Fereldens down here are always sick or getting hurt. And you know how he is; he won’t stop until everyone is healed, no matter what it costs him.” She shook her head, “No wonder he’s so damned skinny, he doesn’t even have time to eat.”

Bethany shrugged noncommittally, “Maybe you should help him.”

Sekhmet paused, her hand putting the top back on a canister of elfroot. Maybe she should, it would let her be around him without him feeling like she was trying to seduce him. And maybe he would relax for a bit and not treat her like he was afraid of her. It might be nice and it had been a while since she had any use for the herb lore that her father had taught her.

She looked back at Bethany, “Want to help?”

She scoffed, “What and come between the two of you? I know better, thank you.”

“Thank you for what?” Anders had just walked through the door and was looking at Bethany curiously.

Her eyes darted to Sekhmet then back, “I was just thanking her for going to the estate for me and mother.”

He nodded, “Shall we go then?” He gestured towards the door.

Sekhmet headed towards it quickly, something was different about Anders today he seemed agitated, restless. Perhaps he was just overtired or maybe he wanted to get back so he could open his clinic. She gave him a little smile, “This should be pretty quick and easy.”

Varric chuckled behind her, “Right, because you’re so good at quick and easy.”

She turned and smiled at him, “Well maybe not the easy part…”

He smiled back as did Bethany. And though Anders didn’t exactly smile, there was a lightening in his eyes, something that looked almost like amusement. She slipped the key from her pocket and Varric groaned.

“A key Hawke? How can you live with yourself, that’s too easy.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

She chuckled, the dwarf definitely kept her on her toes, “Alright,” she slipped the key back into her armor and slid a couple of picks from her sleeve. “It’ll just be a moment.”

“Is this really necessary, you two are getting a little overzealous with your refusal to use keys. I thought we wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible?” Bethany rolled her eyes.

The lock clicked and she eased it open, “There all done.” She shot Bethany a look, “And it barely took longer than a key.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all duly impressed. Now let’s get going.” Bethany pushed her forward as she got to her feet.

“Yes, mother.” She laughed out loud but moved into the hallway nonetheless.

********

Anders was tired, his eyes were bleary, he hadn’t slept the night before; as a matter of fact he hadn’t slept in days. And though it was for several reasons the main reason was walking in front of him, the swell of her hips and the tight roundness of her ass encased in that tight black leather.

He shook his head; surely there were better places for his eyes to settle or at least safer places. He had been trying since he had met her to tell himself there was nothing between them besides a physical attraction. But the last night he had seen her had destroyed his ability to believe or even pretend to believe that anymore.

All week he had been trying to wrap his head around it. Just the actions of what had happened were so minor, a touch on his arm and her head resting on his chest, nothing else. It sounded so insignificant, so innocent but it had changed everything. Over and over he played it in his head trying to figure out when it had happened, what exactly had been the tipping point but could find none.

One moment she had been the lithe woman covered in tight black leather. The one he spent much too much time wondering if _all_ her hair was white and the next moment he had been fantasizing about holding her and taking care of her. He was a healer, and worried about her health of course but that was far from his mind at the time. He had wanted a life with her.

The worst part was that he liked her, genuinely liked her. She was funny, a smart mouth response always at hand. The girl had a ridiculous fondness for puns and one she especially liked could make her dissolve into a puddle of giggles. He was getting so he loved the sound of her laughter, it tickled something inside of him; something that Justice thought was best forgotten. And that was where he intended on leaving it. 

He’d mused a few times before that he might have had something with her if circumstances had been different but stopped himself from dwelling on it. It wasn’t like not being able to have that type of relationship was new to him. As a mage he had known that love and marriage weren’t in the cards for him. Justice just made him more acutely aware of why he couldn’t afford to…to…love someone.

So, he’d avoided her trying to find a way to change things back to the way they had been before. He’d tried to find a way that the two of them would remain simply two people that sometimes worked together. But that carefully constructed lie crumbled into dust, coating everything in its wake.

All he had managed to do was highlight how much he missed her when they were apart. Feeling her against his chest the other night had unraveled everything; they were never just two people who worked together. A part of him was convinced he had known that even the first time he met her. He cared for her already and enjoyed her company; he enjoyed not having to act for her. 

She hadn’t flinched at seeing Justice, hadn’t even been upset when he had explained what had happened to Justice when they merged. He could be a man, a mage and possessed with her, he didn’t need to hide. As surly as he got about her overt flirting and teasing him he enjoyed it, it made him feel some semblance of normalcy. 

Perhaps she, more than anyone, highlighted to him how far he had been straying from his humanity. He’d cut all ties when he left Ferelden and hadn’t bothered to make new ones in Kirkwall. He healed his patients but he didn’t feel connected to them, not like he once had. Justice had dulled the emotional effects of his healing ability because he found it distracting.

Sekhmet had become a tether for him, a tie to the man inside the possessed mage. 

********

The basement rang with the sounds of the slavers screaming as they burned. Bethany unfurled her power, her anger; it felt good to let it all go once in a while. She had enough of keeping her emotions in check, keeping a smile on her face. These men deserved to die for their own crimes and it was just their bad luck that she was angry at Gamlen as well. 

She was usually so nice and sweet and she knew that was how everyone saw her. But she was strong, she had to be; an apostate’s life was a hard one. But when she saw the family crest mounted on the wall she couldn’t help the rush of childlike excitement that swept over her, the Amell crest, right there in front of her in living color.

“Wow, that’s the family crest. Mother described it but it’s amazing to see it.” She fell silent and traced one of the red lines with a finger. Turning back to Sekhmet she spoke softly feeling awed. “I wonder what it would have been like growing up here or if Gamlen hadn’t lost the estate.” 

She tried to picture it, growing up in one place, never having to run. “Can you imagine living here with this crest above the door?” Maybe she could have been proud, protected by her family instead of forcing them to move again and again to save her from the Templars. “It’s not right Sekhmet. Why can’t anything be easy? I feel like everything in our lives is a struggle. Are we cursed?”

Sekhmet pulled Bethany against her and held her in a tight hug. Anders and Varric silently eased from the room giving the two of them some privacy. Her older sister rubbed her back soothingly and kissed her temple. “Don’t worry so much Beth, I’ll take care of everything. I’ll always be there for you. And I’ll fix this; I promise I’ll fix this. This will be the Hawke estate one day.”

And she would, Sekhmet would sacrifice anything and anyone to make her happy. She had been doing it since Carver had died, like she had to be the big sister and take Carver’s place as well. Bethany pulled away and brushed a tear from her cheek. She gave Sekhmet a small smile, “You can’t spend your life trying to keep me happy. You need to make a life for yourself.”

Sekhmet was quiet for a minute as if she were looking for the words, but when she did speak the words were clear and strong, spoken with a fierce conviction. “You’re my family, you are my life.”

Beth sighed, she loved Sekhmet and of course didn’t want to lose her but Sekhmet was way past the age where she should be living her own life. She had started once, but had come back, ever the dutiful daughter, to protect her family when she caught wind of the Blight.

It wasn’t that Bethany wasn’t grateful; it was just that she could see her sister becoming obsessive. Sekhmet never wanted Bethany out of her sight and if a Templar even looked at her wrong they were sure to disappear and never be heard of again. Sekhmet didn’t like Templars at the best of times; it was probably why she got along so well with Anders.

Maybe Sekhmet could find something, some kind of life with him. She saw how they looked at each other. She knew there was already something more between them than attraction even if neither of them were willing to admit it yet. Sekhmet thought that there might be a chance for something more, saw something in him she had never seen in anyone before. And their golden haired mage wasn’t even willing to admit that there was an attraction between them. 

But she knew what she had seen that night after they had met Isabela. It was a strong feeling, so raw and powerful that it had shocked Bethany at first. And she had been hurt; she had desires of her own where Anders was concerned. In light of that night, of the pull between Anders and her sister she felt silly. In caparison her feelings were minor, fleeting. She knew Sekhmet needed him and that whether he admitted it or not he needed Sekhmet. And she would find a way to push them together.

In the meantime there was no point in arguing with Sekhmet so she put a smile on, “Let’s go find the vault and find Grandfather’s will.”

Her sister smiled back and the two of them headed for the door. Anders and Varric were standing not too far away. Anders’ eyes skimmed right by her to land on her sister the slightest curl touching his lips before it was gone. It hurt a little that he barely noticed her, but reinforced her belief that he belonged with Sekhmet. 

He put his finger to his lips wanting them to be silent then motioned them over. As they approached they could hear footsteps in the next room, quite a few of them. Why hadn’t they come after the four of them? With as much noise as they had made there was no way the slavers wouldn’t have heard them.

“Varric says he thinks he can see a trap in there. A big one, they haven’t seen us but obviously know we’re coming. I’ll go in first and freeze them. Hawke, you should follow me in and start disarming the trap, I’ll keep a shield around you so you can work. Bethany and Varric will come in directly after you and start taking out the slavers.” He glanced into the room again, eyes sharp and focused.

A mage with battle strategies? The man just kept surprising her, no wonder he talked more with her sister. Sekhmet was the one who had a head for things like that. Bethany was more the ‘let’s just burn it all to the ground’ sort. And the stubble looked good on him. Just because she was going to get him and her sister together didn’t mean she couldn’t look. 

Her thoughts were put on hold when she watched ice slick up over Anders’ fingers in an instant. He flashed her sister a mischievous smile, placed his back against the wall next to the door before turning quickly through it with the spell shooting out from his fingers. How had she missed how much he liked fighting? He’d looked down right excited as he went through the door. Maybe she’d been idolizing him just a bit because he was a healer and she had always wanted to be one.

Sekhmet stepped through behind him, “Nice work, they look like a bunch of ice statues.”

Varric stepped in ahead of Bethany, Bianca already shooting bolts. Bethany stepped in, surveyed the room and started with a crushing prison spell as her sister and Anders kept talking like they were walking in a garden instead of in danger of the slavers breaking free at any moment.

“I try, ice isn’t my favorite, but it’s a close second.” He was standing beside Sekhmet who was crouching on the ground working on a pressure plate that seemed to run the length of the room. Sapphire magic swirled around both of them as she worked.

“I’m guessing lightning is your favorite since you use it even in your sleep.” Her voice was light even though she was scowling at the trap she was working on.

“Yes, well lightning has so _very many_ uses.” His voice had dropped a little.

Bethany turned to look at him, curious about his stressing both those words. She rolled her eyes when she saw Sekhmet smirking up at him and him flashing her that smile that made her sister melt. When they just kept looking at each other for a few moments too long she cleared her throat trying to get Sekhmet to focus on the trap. 

Not that she wanted to interrupt. In fact, she was quite pleased Anders seemed to be flirting with her sister. It would make getting the two of them together that much easier if he could at least admit he was attracted to Sekhmet. 

“Anders, I need a hand.” Her sister was still looking under the pressure plate which made Bethany nervous, usually Sekhmet would have had it disarmed in moments.

He knelt beside her, “What can I do?”

She responded without looking up. “I need some light and need you to pull up on the pressure plate and hold it. I don’t want it smacking down on my fingers and breaking them while I’m disarming it.”

All the slavers were dead so Bethany and Varric wandered over to where Anders was now kneeling next to Sekhmet holding the plate while a wisp danced slow circles near Sekhmet’s head. Varric crouched down to take a look at what Sekhmet was working on.

He chuckled then stood up, “Don’t worry Sunshine. It’s not anything Hawke can’t handle. She’s just having trouble getting it apart because the thing is rusted. I’m not even sure it would have gone off if we all stepped on it.”

“I’m not taking any chances, especially with shoddy craftsmanship like this. I hope whoever put this together was killed by one of his own shitty traps.” Hawke grunted a little and there was a scraping noise followed by a loud click and then she pushed away from it. “Ok, you can drop it now Anders.”

He released the plate which fell with a dull thud. “So where now?”

Bethany pointed towards a short set of stairs at the far side of the room, “Looks like the only place to go is up.” As they started on the stairs she couldn’t stop a smile, the damp of the basement was disappearing. “I think this must be the vault.”

Anders let out a short noise of surprise, “Uh, Hawke, why is there an ogre skull over the door to your family’s vault?”

Sekhmet furrowed her brow, “How the Void should I know? Maybe the slavers liked the way it looked, or maybe my family put it there to discourage looters. Who knows, maybe the Amells hunted Darkspawn in their spare time like Orlesians hunt fox.”

They all laughed at that one, even Anders chuckled a little. Her sister had the door open in just a few moments and they were standing in the vault room of the Amell estate. It was exhilarating, the things in here belonged to her family, to her mother’s parents.

They all chipped in sorting through things looking for the will, choosing to take a few other things back to Gamlen’s with them. They could either use them, or with mother’s blessing sell them. As she was going through a box of small silver items like candlesticks she heard a thud followed by Sekhmet’s voice.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m going to kill that thieving bastard.” Sekhmet’s face was red and her jaw was tight, Bethany couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her sister so mad. She held out the sheaf of parchment to Bethany. “Gamlen stole mother’s money. Grandfather left it all to mother and to us. Son of a bitch stole it and squandered it all away, thinking he could get away with it. No wonder he didn’t want to talk about it.”

Bethany felt like she was going to vomit. They had basically been slaves for a year, were currently living penniless in Lowtown fearing the Templars everyday because Gamlen had stolen mother’s money? Had lost an estate that wasn’t his? “No,” she looked through the papers then tossed them on the floor, furious. She kicked the wall and let out a scream of anger and frustration. “Still think we aren’t cursed?” 

It was too much; she might have been safe in Kirkwall if her uncle wasn’t such a greedy bastard. She wanted to scream and shout and roast him to cinders, but that wouldn’t solve anything. She moved into one of the side rooms in the basement and started letting off small controlled blasts of flame trying to calm down at least a little.

********

Anders watched Bethany leave and gestured for Varric to follow her. He didn’t want to give the girl any reason to cling to her little crush. Sekhmet sat on the floor her mouth opened slightly, her face contorted in what looked a lot like anger and a lot like betrayal. Maybe he should leave her to handle her emotions in private but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her there looking like that.

He sat down beside her as Varric left the room, going after Bethany. “Are you alright?”

She was still staring at the papers but at the sound of his voice looked up, the anger and betrayal slipped away leaving her just looking completely overwhelmed. “I thought, I don’t know, that Grandfather had left mother something like some kind of heirloom.” She glanced at the papers then back into his eyes, “He left her everything, the money, the estate, all of it. It was hers and Gamlen just…not only did he steal it but he lost it all too. With all the assets listed here it looks like the estate was still solvent when Grandfather passed. Maybe Bethany’s right, maybe we are cursed.”

He wanted to reach out to put his arm around her but Justice’s thoughts were already angry that Anders had gone with her in the first place so he sat still keeping his hands to himself. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Don’t I? After…” she closed her eyes, “there are things about my life you don’t know.”

“So tell me.” The words had left his mouth before he’d thought about them. He shouldn’t have said that, it could lead to all sorts of unpleasant things if she expected him to reciprocate. His stomach suddenly felt like there was a stone sitting in it.

She opened her eyes and watched him for a few beats before speaking. “You first.”

He glanced away from her eyes, feeling the weight of his past deeds, past crimes hanging on him. He told himself he wasn’t an abomination, told himself Justice wasn’t a demon. But only a monster could have done the things he had done. And it would kill him to have her look at him with disgust, with fear like everyone else did. He could never be completely honest with her, another reminder why they could never be. “I can’t…I just can’t.”

“It’s alright, I understand. Let’s make a deal.” She didn’t sound even the slightest bit angry.

He chanced looking into her eyes again and was surprised to actually find she looked almost hopeful. “What kind of deal?”

“If I ask you something about the past and you don’t want to tell me or vice versa we just say ‘it’s in the past’ and that’s it. No more questions, we just agree to leave it alone.” She flashed him a smile.

“That sounds good to me.” And it did, he wouldn’t feel obligated to tell her anything he didn’t want to because there were things she wasn’t willing to talk about either. “Yes, I like that idea.”

“Good,” she stood and straightened out the pages of the will. “We should get going, I’m sure they’re wondering what’s taking so long.”

He stood beside her; he’d been planning on ignoring the past week altogether but the longer he was with her today the more he needed to apologize. He’d left her in the lurch because of his own issues, he was just lucky she, or anyone she travelled with, weren’t hurt badly. “Hawke, about this week…”

She spoke quickly, raising her voice a little to talk over him. “Forget about it, you were busy. It happens.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that exactly. When had he become so bad at reading women? It hadn’t been that damn long. He followed her out of the vault resigning himself to not figuring it out, she didn’t want to talk about it and after their morning excursion he couldn’t blame her.

********

Talking with Anders had calmed her down a bit, she’d even managed to give him a smile when he headed off to open his clinic for the day. As they approached Gamlen’s her blood began to boil again. Bethany seemed to feel much the same; she walked beside her with her fists clenched.

Sekhmet jogged up the steps ready to confront Gamlen. As soon as she was in the house she heard Gamlen trying to tell her mother that they needed to start paying him. With red creeping into her vision and her teeth set on edge she grabbed a knife for her belt and crossed the room to him.

“How dare you, you thieving bastard. I’ll see you dead before you see one damn copper.” Hands closed around her wrist surprising her.

“Sekhmet stop, he’s been good enough to let us live here.” It was her mother, voice softly admonishing.

“No mother, it’s because of him that we’re in this mess.” She turned to see him quietly heading for the door. She threw the knife in her hand embedding it in the wall a few inches in front of Gamlen’s face. She wanted to make sure he was alive to apologize to her mother.

Everyone was silent, especially her uncle who had turned an ashy color. Her sister broke the silence walking to their mother and handing her the pages of grandfather’s will. She flipped through the pages and pointed out the important lines.

“See, he stole from you, mother. Stole your home, your money and squandered it. Obviously, not even your father trusted him, clearly with good reason.” She walked towards her uncle again, her anger like acid in her veins, she really wanted him dead. He had put both her life and Bethany’s in danger by making them become criminals just to get into the city. 

He had endangered Bethany’s freedom, possibly even her life, by losing money that wasn’t his that could have protected Bethany. It was a disgrace even to Carver’s death. Carver hadn’t died so they could reach Kirkwall and live in squalor worse than anything they had experienced before. 

His greed and stupidity had damaged so much, had ruined so many lives and on top of it all he lied again and again breaking her mother’s heart with tales about how her grandparents had never forgiven her for choosing to be with the man she loved. She had been listening to her mother cry herself to sleep for over a year because of this…slug. Surely something that deplorable couldn’t be called a man. 

It had been a long time since she had felt anger this raw, rage so all consuming all she could think about was making him pay, making him suffer. “And you’re going to pay her back every copper if it takes you three lifetimes.”

“The Void I am! You ungrateful,” the sentence ended with a croak as Sekhmet wrapped her hands around his throat. She was small but fighting everyday made her strong enough to overpower her alcohol sodden uncle.

“Ungrateful? If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t have needed to become indentured servants to return to the city of my mother’s birth. If it wasn’t for you my mother would be in her estate in Hightown where she belongs instead of in this dump with you. If it wasn’t for you my sister and I wouldn’t be putting our lives on the line everyday for coin. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t need to go crawling around in the Deep Roads with Darkspawn. We left Ferelden to get the fuck away from Darkspawn.

“So don’t you _dare_ talk to me about being ungrateful. We have _nothing_ to be grateful to you for.” Her fingers tightened on his neck as her anger built inside of her. She hated him at that moment the anger grew inside of her, hot knot unfurling inside of her blocking out her thoughts other than causing pain. A great red sweep over her vision as a type of manic hysteria swept over her. Her fingers felt so good digging into his throat, pouring her rage into her uncle’s flesh.

“Stop it, you’re killing him.” Her mother’s shrill voice screaming from behind her.

“Good,” she growled back. The tiny voice in her head urging her to kill the bastard repeated itself like a drum beat in her head. Kill him, kill him, kill him. Four years since she’d heard that chant, had felt such a drive for punishment.

Her sister was beside her a moment later, “He deserves to die, Sekhmet, you’re right. But if you get arrested who will take care of mother and I? Let him go.”

No, she didn’t want to let him go. The drum beat still repeating. What she wanted was to feel his life fade as she squeezed it from him. But Bethany was right; she and mother needed her to take care of them. She held onto the thought of losing Bethany and the intense rage subsided a bit letting her think a bit more clearly. She gave one last squeeze before she let him go. He slid to the floor coughing and clutching at his throat. At least the fear in his eyes was gratifying.

Her mother knelt on the floor beside him checking his throat as he continued to wheeze and cough. “Maybe you should send for your healer friend, Sekhmet.”

“No,” she wouldn’t waste Anders’ talents on a piece of scum like her uncle. Her uncle didn’t deserve to be healed, to forget the pain and the reason behind it. She looked to Bethany, “Don’t you dare try to heal him.” 

Her sister laughed, “Right, like I would after watching that.”

She nodded, slow breath in slow breath out, reel in the crazy a little; wouldn’t do to have the whole house scared of her. Slow breath in, the rage slipping off her little by little, slow breath out. She pulled her coin purse off her belt and handed her mother a few coins. “You can have Lady Elegant make him a potion if you think he deserves one. He’ll live as it is, he’ll just have a sore throat for about a week and we could really use that money elsewhere.”

Not waiting for an answer she turned and left. She glanced up at the sun as she jogged down the steps. It looked like it was past noon, good. What she really needed was a good stiff drink.


	11. Shell Shocked

Sekhmet just stood there for a moment in shock, nausea built in the pit of her stomach. Since she had attacked Gamlen things between her and mother had been tense but this, to hear it, was too much. And her mother stood there silently, actually waiting for a response. 

Had she thought her mother would ever forgive her for Papa’s death, or wouldn’t blame her for Carver’s as well? It had been upsetting enough to hear her mother scream it at her that day, as her brother’s body lay broken and bleeding at their feet, but she hadn’t truly believed her mother had felt that way. 

It all rushed back at her again, the emptiness, the loneliness of realizing that not even her own mother wanted her. After all the months trekking across Ferelden and the months she had spent fighting for survival since arriving in Kirkwall she had nearly forgotten it. It was amazing how heavy words can be, heavy enough to strain any bonds at all, heavy enough to crush a spirit under, heavy enough to crush a fledgling hope into grit and dust.

Digging deep inside of her she looked for the anger, that powerful drug that had bolstered her through so much in her life since Papa’s death. It was gone though, missing or all used up, either way there was nothing left, she had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to take and nothing to show. Her mother’s amber eyes stared at her still, and her mother seemed to have anger aplenty as she glared daggers at Sekhmet. The sharp points tearing into her heart and ripping more of it away.

She felt like the shell of an egg, hollowed out and ready to crack. She needed to get out, to get away. She needed a drink and maybe a decent lay, but first she would answer, give her mother the satisfaction she seemed to need. 

“Don’t you think that if I could bring Carver back for you I would? That if I could trade my life for his I would? I know I’m not the one you wanted to live, I know it would never have been me, and I’m sorry but I’m all there is and I’m doing the best I can.” She turned and left Gamlen’s tiny, grubby shack quickly not able to stay, she was near tears and could ill afford them.

Outside the door the cool air of the night felt good on her heated face. She paused at the top of the stairs taking a breath before she started down them, not quite running, Tyr keeping pace beside her. The door came banging open after her, “Sekhmet, wait.”

It was Bethany, looking to mend fences…again. “I’m alright, Beth.”

“She doesn’t mean it, she’s just hurting.” Her sister’s voice was wheedling and tinny in her ears, she didn’t want to hear it. Beth just couldn’t understand the way things worked in the family, how they had worked since she had carried Papa’s lifeless body home.

“I know very well how mother feels.” It was so hard not to be bitter, but Beth didn’t deserve it and so she curbed her tongue the best she could.

“Do you? Do you really? You’ve been gone, it’s just been the three of us, and then she gets us all together finally and has us together for less than a day before Carver dies.” 

At least they’d had each other; she had ranged up and down Ferelden alone. “As I said I know how she feels. You should go back, I don’t know when or if I’ll be back tonight.”

“Looking for a bottle to crawl into or perhaps a bed?” Her words were sharp, reproving. That was alright, Bethany could look down on her too, Maker knew everyone else did.

“Maybe a few” She responded flippantly before dashing the rest of the way down the stairs and disappearing out into the night.

********

She had every intention of heading over to the Hanged Man and drowning her sorrows and guilt with Varric but somehow she found herself in Darktown. She was looking for a fight and found several before she collapsed in a heap on the floor and started trying to find a piece of calm, to find a center that seemed to have spun farther and farther away from her since she had returned to Lothering.

She had almost been happy traveling Ferelden, no specific agenda other than to change scenery and the faces of those around her as often as possible. No one to be disappointed with her or hate her for her failings, no one who even knew her many failings. And she had reveled in that freedom; no one thought anything of an armed woman traveling. If they tried something and she wasn’t interested she was more that able to protect herself and if she was interested there was no worry some sordid tale would make it back to her brother’s ears.

How many fights had the two of them had over her exploits? Too many to count. _“Do you have to let all my friends fuck you? It’s bad enough knowing your sister is the town slut without hearing that all your mates have had her.” “I thank the Maker everyday that father isn’t alive to see what a disgusting disappointment you are.”_ And on and on and on, Carver was always ready with anger and criticism and loathing. It was one of the reasons she had left in the first place. 

But when she had heard about the Blight she couldn’t stay away. She had tried for a few days but the knowledge that they were in danger and she could help ate at her until she had turned back home, back to Lothering with all its baggage and recriminations. Back to the home where she was no longer wanted or needed, back to the home she had barely missed since she had left. Papa would be angry with her if she didn’t head back, and so she found herself standing at the door of her old home with her brother glaring at her and asking what she wanted, that they didn’t have anything for her.

She ignored him and moved into the house, pleasantly surprised when Bethany had pulled her into a tight hug; even her mother had a smile for her. But the pleasantries had been short lived, she headed off to Ostagar to offer her services and they were more than willing to take it, they didn’t even balk at letting her fight beside her brother, a secret she would keep until they were on the battlefield itself. She hadn’t returned to the house but had opted to remain in the camp.

Sekhmet jumped to her feet blades drawn when she heard footsteps coming towards her. Tyr paced back and forth in front of her hackles raised, teeth bared, growly fiercely at the dark haired man that approached her. He was sallow and barely taller than her, and she knew she was short though she was loathe to admit it. “That’s close enough, I don’t know what you’re looking for but I carry no coin and I’m in the mood for murder just now.”

“Pardon me serrah, but you seem to have gotten a few injuries taking on all those thugs alone. I thought I might take you to the healer. Those thugs have been stealing what little we have and harassing all of us for weeks, I know the healer would be more than happy to heal your wounds. And he won’t ask questions ma’am, it’s not his way. He might even put you up for the night. If not, you’re more than welcome to pass the rest of the night with my family, it’s not much but it’s warm and dry.”

She patted Tyr on his massive head and the hound sat down beside her, silent but still wary. Her wounds weren’t life threatening, a stab to the back of a calf, a few slices, a bruised jaw and several other minor bruises but when she had jumped to her feet a moment ago her body had been stiff and aching. Maybe going to see Anders would be a good idea. She gave the man a smile, “Yes, I think perhaps I should see this healer.”

The man nodded and pulled a wicked looking blade from a sheath near the back of his belt. “I’ll take you serrah, I’m not great but I can handle a knife fairly well and have seen a few fights. If someone tries to hurt you, I can lend a hand.”

He moved close, his eyes constantly on the move looking around them as they headed off to Anders’ clinic. Her limp was bad and her jaw ached horribly but she actually felt good. She had worked out a lot of her frustration and the anger that had found her too late while at the same time she had actually managed to help this man and his family. And she wasn’t sure why but his simple kindness struck right to the heart of her. He didn’t even know her but was willing to risk his life to get her help.

They made an odd procession moving through Darktown, the small dark haired man with his wicked blade held in front of him, her limping behind him and Tyr following behind her licking her palm and nudging her along every so often. They reached the door to Anders’ clinic and she put a hand on his arm to stall him for a moment. 

“What I said about not carrying coin earlier was a lie.” She pulled her coin purse free and gave him a handful of silvers, she wasn’t sure how much it was but he deserved every copper. “Thank you for your kindness; this is the best thank you I have.”

The man stared into his palm, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Serrah this is too much. I just did what anyone would have.”

“Not here, not in Darktown, only you and I appreciate it.” She couldn’t tell him that a little kindness was exactly what she had needed. 

The man swallowed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wrapped the coins up so they wouldn’t make noise when he moved. She knew he would need to be careful until he returned to his family but hopefully he would make it there and would be able to feed his family, maybe even rent them a small room somewhere out of Darktown. He pushed the tightly secured packet into his pocket and raised his hand to knock on the clinic door.

“Do you mind me asking your name?” She was curious who it was that was helping her.

“Dogan Rautio.” He responded giving her a slow smile, like it was an unfamiliar thing on his face.

Faint footsteps were heard coming towards the door.

“Did you practice you father’s craft before coming here?” The name was Antivan she thought, but the accent was Ferelden. She couldn’t fathom how a gold-smith would end up in Lowtown.

He snorted, “I did, but what does it matter here.”

“I won’t forget your help Dogan, I promise.” Perhaps the man could start his trade again; Kirkwall had plenty of snobs who loved their gold. She could hear Anders’ shuffling steps near the door and Tyr whined quietly beside her. She scratched behind his ears and he quieted down again.

“It is sad to me that such a little thing means so much to you serrah, I will keep you in my thoughts as well. I hope you know much more kindness in the future.” They both heard Anders stop just on the otherside of the door. “Healer, I have a woman here, she needs your help. She cleared out the thugs that have been plaguing the western corner by herself.”

The door unlocked and swung slowly open, Anders stood there in a light weight pair of trousers and a long woolen tunic laced, as usual, all the way to his neck. His hair was a tangled mess; he had apparently fallen asleep somewhere as evidenced by how he had been stretching his back when the door had opened. He paused at the sight of her, standing up straight and dropping his arms. “Hawke?”

“Hey.” Her voice was quiet as she amusedly watched Tyr push past her and started sniffing Anders before plopping himself comfortably beside the door.

“You know the healer? How fortunate, come, come let’s get you settled on a cot.” Dogan pulled her inside the clinic past Anders and steered her towards a cot where he gently pushed on her shoulders to get her to sit. He turned back to Anders who was still standing by the door. “Can you help her? And perhaps give her shelter for the night. I understand if you can’t I already told her she could stay with us.”

She would have smiled if her jaw wasn’t throbbing from talking so much after getting hit. Dogan must have been a man with a lot of clout back in Ferelden because he sure knew how to throw his weight around and get things done. He stood watching Anders expectantly.

Anders seemed suddenly pulled out of his daze, but his gaze remained riveted on her, his eyes all but glowing with intensity. “Uh, Dogan right?”

Dogan nodded in the affirmative. 

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke, almost like gentle touches. “She’ll be fine; I’ll heal her and give her a place to sleep for the night. You should head back to your family; they’ll be worried about you.”

“Are you sure healer, I feel a little odd just dumping her here.” He looked at her and she could see the indecision in his eyes. It was odd since he had been so eager to have her see Anders in the first place. Was Anders’ intense stare what had unnerved the man, made him question the wisdom of leaving the two of them alone? And just why _was_ Anders staring at her like that?

“It’s alright I know her, and she’s in no danger from me.” Anders picked up on the man’s uneasiness but didn’t seem bothered by it in the least.

Dogan turned to Sekhmet who nodded. She didn’t plan on staying long anyways. Dogan took a deep breath and quickly left the clinic after resheathing his wicked blade. Anders closed the door behind him and as he moved away from it Tyr pushed to his feet walked in front of it and plopped down again. Head down on his paws she was pretty sure the dog was sleeping in moments. Lazy thing.

Anders stared at her for another few moments before frowning, “What the Void happened to you?”

She looked away, not really wanting to discuss it, especially with Anders. “Can you just fix it then I’ll head home.”

He walked up to her and she felt so small, so vulnerable. She wondered if he had any idea how defenseless she felt against him half the time. It wasn’t just that he was so tall, or that he was beautiful or kind, but she had seen him in action, the man was strong, powerful. A wolf disguised as a lamb and half the time she felt like another sheep falling for the illusion. And tonight she felt like she hadn’t any defenses to start with, everything already stripped bare from her conversation with her mother. Why had she agreed to come here? 

He stood there just looking at her, it was unnerving. Anders always seemed to be on the move to her, like he had a specific purpose for each moment of his day. But just now he was watching her, his eyes moving over her slowly before his warm honey brown captured her own crystalline blue and she couldn’t seem to look away.

As he watched her his long fingers reached out and touched her face trailing down her jaw, a small blaze of sapphire light following in their wake. She had to force herself to sit still, to not shudder at the touch or turn into it. His fingers and the healing felt nice, intimate and brought blessed relief. 

She hadn’t failed to notice that when the others weren’t around he liked to touch her when he healed her. She wondered if he did the same with them, she kind of hoped he reserved that for her; she enjoyed his touch, though it was always brief. He almost seemed to regret touching her but he turned around and did it again and again.

He picked up her left hand and tugged off her glove carefully. She was surprised that it was bruised so badly. He shook his head as he healed it. “If you keep breaking these bones I might not be able to heal them properly. You have weapons; you don’t need to hit people.”

She remained silent; she didn’t even remember hitting anyone. He tugged the other glove free and healed the bruises from that hand as well, she was grateful she didn’t seem to have any broken bones there. She watched him curiously as he calmly began working the buckles of her armor free. He didn’t seem to have any trouble with them at all, finding all the necessary ones, leaving the others alone. Once he had it undone he carefully peeled it off her.

Her heart raced in her chest when he pushed up her tunic to just under her breastband and his fingers ghosted across her ribs. His fingers were so warm and she enjoyed it knowing his magic would be almost cold. His eyes flicked back to hers periodically as if he was waiting for her to protest, or maybe he just wondered what she was feeling. She was definitely curious about what he was thinking.

She enjoyed his touch and the feel of his healing magic on her skin. It was cool and she felt her nipples stiffening from the chill. Neither of them commented on it, though she did notice his gaze wandering there briefly as he wrapped a hand around her healed ribcage, closing his eyes and sliding it down to her waist.

Without a word he moved to the other side and did the same thing though those ribs didn’t need healing. When he reached her waist he scowled and moved his hand around to her back but still remained silent. Another pulse of cool energy flowed out over her skin following Anders’ fingers. He was so slow, so gentle and careful it was hard not to imagine him as her lover. He had never touched her this much, had never been this silent when he healed her in the past. 

It was nice, a balm, for a little while at least she could pretend that someone cared for her, that someone wanted her, even if she knew it was a lie.

Apparently satisfied he stood back releasing her tunic to cover her again. Without hesitation he reached for the buckles on her hips securing her armor to her legs. When they were free he grabbed it on both sides near the back, without a word she lifted her hips for him and he slid them off carefully pausing where the blood from her injured calf was making the leather stick and peeling it gently from the skin. When he reached her boots he paused long enough to discard them before pulling her armor completely off.

Even though she was still dressed she somehow felt naked under his intense gaze. His eyes roved over her quickly before returning to her leg. He slid the loose leg of her trousers up over her calf and probed carefully around the wound. His fingers settled just under the wound and she watched the sapphire energy swirl from his fingertips and flow over her leg into the wound, longer this time than the other injuries but when it looked healed his fingers skimmed down her leg towards her ankle while the other cupped behind her knee.

He bent her leg a few times before moving so one hand was behind her ankle and the other gripped her foot lightly. He watched her face as he pointed and flexed her foot checking for stiffness or pain. He must have been satisfied because he stood up. His fingers reached for the laces on her tunic then he paused. 

Sekhmet watched him carefully. She had never had giddy crushes on boys when she was younger, she never understood what all the fuss was about, mostly she just thought the other girls were ridiculous as they tittered and swooned over this boy or that. Even when she was older she had no problem spotting an attractive man, but it was almost a detached, clinical appreciation.

Having met Anders though, she wondered if perhaps she was just a late bloomer. Seeing his tall slender form even from across the room made her heart pick up. Watching him walk, those long legs eating up the ground sent tingles down her spine. His voice seemed to demand her attention; even in the crowded din of the Hanged Man she could catch his voice from across the room. He had beautiful, full and expressive lips, almost like a woman’s. And his eyes were so warm, so gentle and so sad at the same time you couldn’t help but feel them tug at your soul.

And then there were more intimate pleasures, she loved the way he smelled. You hear how people all smell differently but it usually isn’t something you notice. Anders definitely had his own smell though, he smelled like the Frostbacks and it made her ache. Perhaps the best though were those very few times like now, when he looked at her with that heat in his gaze.

Those flashes of naked want, desire that he struggled to hide. The ones she saw so seldom she often thought she imagined them all together. There was heat there now though; if she hadn’t already been sitting her knees might have given out on her. She held his gaze, that hungry wolf stare, not wanting to break the moment, wondering if he would press forward. His fingers tugged at the strings tying her tunic together and it easily came untied. His fingers dragged down one lace again and again.

She wanted to nod, to make some gesture to assure him she wouldn’t object, but Anders was like a rabbit sometimes, spooked by the smallest thing so she held still barely daring to breathe waiting for him to continue, to make up his mind. The moments stretched out as they stared at each other and he continued to fiddle with that lace, still undecided though his eyes told another story. 

She had a flash of herself laid back on the cot with Anders above her, his long body nearly dwarfing her own. His long hair loose and that dazzling smile of his on those gorgeous lips, still the same heat in his eyes. The image made her heart race faster and she wondered if he could feel it tattooing a staccato beat beneath her skin. She was surprised at herself; usually in her fantasies she had him on his back.

He suddenly took a step away from her and dropped the lace he had been toying with, for one mad moment she wondered if he had caught the stray image but she saw him blinking and then he refocused on her arm. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have had a glimpse at what might have been going on in that mind of his. 

She made sure not to react to his abrupt change, to make it seem like she didn’t notice it. Whenever something like this happened Anders could disappear for days at a time. She hoped by not reacting he wouldn’t feel self conscious and wouldn’t drop out of sight again.

Instead of tugging on her lace he wrapped his hand around her upper arm over her tunic and a brief pulse of energy healed another small cut before letting go of her completely. He turned and disappeared from the room and she reached for the armor he had placed carefully on the floor ready to start pulling it back on. This whole situation with him had been odd and a little unnerving. 

He had been so silent the entire time he had been healing her that she jumped when he spoke to her now. “Stop.”

Even Tyr gave a short bark at the sudden noise before seeing it was just Anders and putting his head back on his paws. She looked up at Anders curiously, his brow was furrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin line. For some reason he was carrying his bedroll under his arm. He looked upset though she had no idea why. 

She gave him a small smile, wanting to make him a bit more comfortable after he had helped her. “I’m alright now Anders, thank you. I’ll get dressed and go home.” 

“What were you doing out there Hawke? It’s late and you know better than to come to Darktown alone. Or were you looking for a fight?” He had her pinned with his gaze and from the look on his face he seemed to already know the answer.

She took a deep breath before responding, he was obviously irritated with her again. “It doesn’t matter, I’m alright.” 

His scowl deepened, “Yes, it matters. Are you an idiot or just suicidal?”

She rubbed her hand over her face a few times, frustrated that he seemed so intent on finding out exactly what she had been doing. An argument was not what she wanted or needed right now. She sighed and shook her head before dropping her hand and looking at him again. “What do you want me to say Anders? I’m sorry we woke you, but I’m fine now, thank you.”

He crossed to her, his long legs eating the ground between them in just three steps, a shiver slid down her spine at the sight. Gorgeous. 

His voice was gruff and his brows dipped into a scowl. “Is this going to be a habit, stumbling into my clinic in the middle of the night?”

Yes, there it was, her illusion that someone cared for her shattered to pieces, as well it should be. He didn’t want her bothering him, as simple as that. She turned her face away from him, her heart aching too much to look at him. It had been stupid to come here. She should have gone to the Hanged Man to drink with Varric, or even gone to see him instead of Anders, he’d have a few poultices on hand, he always did.

“No, it won’t happen again.” She wouldn’t be repeating this mistake at least.

He must have heard something in her voice because she felt his long fingers on her again, curled around her jaw as he slowly turned her to face him, tipping her head up to look at him so he could see her eyes and it was such a long way up. “What’s going on Hawke, are you alright?”

She blinked a few times willing the tears to stay at bay a while longer. All that fighting in Darktown to get herself on even ground again all undone with a brief touch from this man who didn’t even care about her, it wasn’t fair. Though that seemed to be her pattern, always needing the most from those who wanted nothing to do with her. “I’m fine, just very tired. I want to go home.” She cursed herself as her voice broke on the last word.

He let go of her chin, his hand instead sliding down her arm to take her hand gently. “Why don’t you sleep here? It’ll be quiet. No listening to Gamlen snoring.” He was placating her.

She pulled her hand away, almost angry that the action wouldn’t hurt him like it hurt her everytime he pulled away from her touch. “Don’t,” he looked at her questioningly, “just don’t do that.” She wiped her face as a tear slipped free. 

He looked worried now; no doubt he didn’t want to deal with her tears. She was just another hysterical female patient he had to deal with, had to pretend to listen to, to care about. It was ingrained in him, years of healing dictating his actions more than any real concern. Not that he wasn’t a good healer he did care about his patients, about their illnesses and injuries, about their pain, about all of the things he could fix.

But hysterical women, scared children, belligerent men, it all went with the territory. He had to show at least a passing concern in order to calm them and treat them effectively, but he was done treating her. So, she would leave and he could get back to sleep and wouldn’t have to worry about the crazy and hysterical woman who had awakened him in the middle of the night.

“Don’t what?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“Don’t pretend you care, I’m not one of your sad little patients.” She really was beginning to sound hysterical.

She was surprised when he inhaled sharply through his nose. “Pretend? You think I’m pretending to be worried about a friend of mine who seems bent on killing herself by throwing herself at every thug she finds? You don’t usually come here to see me, to the clinic, but I hear about the white haired terror that comes down and sweeps out all the trash at least once every couple of weeks. I know that you’re always alone and it’s always at night.”

She lowered her eyes; she didn’t have it left in her to argue. She was so tired and so alone she just felt used up, empty, hollow. The tinny refrain of the same old complaints echoing in her head. He clearly wasn’t going to let her leave and maybe it was just as well, she wasn’t exactly sure she would be welcome at home. So she’d sleep here tonight if for no other reason than to ease Anders’ conscience and tomorrow she would see about getting a room at the tavern.

She sighed again; she was being uncharitable to Anders. The man had never really done anything to her, and that was precisely the problem. She cared for him, more than just someone she worked with, more than just the man who healed her. But he didn’t reciprocate, which wasn’t exactly a crime. It just hurt, just reminded her how alone she was. 

She looked up at him and nodded, “Alright I’ll stay. I’ll stay out of your hair and I’ll leave before you open the clinic in the morning.”

“Stay as long as you want there’s plenty of room, you won’t be underfoot.” He settled onto the cot tugging her gently to join him. “Will you talk to me, tell me what’s going on?”

It would be so easy to talk to him, to tell him everything and a large part of her wanted to. But the small shred of dignity she had left kept her from spilling out all of her problems to the beautiful mage beside her. And it was a struggle, because she cared for him, because she wanted to believe that he cared for her. It was just his nature though, he saw someone in pain and his instinct was to fix it. He just happened to be part of the problem this time.

“Just family, it’s hard all of us being crammed in there, always in each other’s way, no way to get a break from each other. Coming down here is so I don’t end up doing that to my family. Just frustration, really I’m alright.” Apparently, taking out rage on family is frowned upon .

“Still problems with Gamlen then?” Bethany had obviously told him all about her little ‘fight’ with Gamlen. 

“No, once we got over the whole ‘That crazy bitch can’t live here’ thing he’s been pretty quiet. Gives me a wide berth, which is good for both of us. I still want to hit him everytime I look at him.” She dragged out a smile and plastered it on her face for him. Gamlen had been easy to cow after their little dispute, he’d only made the one comment and when she had snapped at him had fallen silent and stayed that way.

He looked dubious, “You’re always welcome to come here for a little space. I don’t mind.” He touched her shoulder tentatively and she wanted to scream but she just sat there quietly waiting for him to get up so she could crawl into bed and forget today ever happened. “And I’m not sure what brought about the idea that I pretend to care but…”

She cut him off not wanting to hear whatever bland quick fix statement he was about to make. “I’m sorry about that.”

She could feel his eyes on her, could feel him hesitating but finally he pushed himself up to his feet and handed her the bedroll. “Not the best accommodations but I didn’t finish washing all the linens yet. Or start really.”

She could smell it, smell him, the thing was absolutely covered in his scent. It was going to be a long night. “It’s alright, it looks warm and comfortable. Thank you.”

He nodded, “Pick any cot you want,” he smiled just the slightest bit, “obviously there’s lots of room.” He stayed there watching her for another minute before he turned and headed to his small room at the back of the clinic. He walked slowly and she was sure he was going to turn around again, try to get her to talk again but he didn’t. He hesitated at the door making her hold her breath but finally walked through.

She laid out the bedroll on the cot she had sat on while Anders had healed her. She let her hair down, slipping the pins into the bag on the belt of her armor before sliding into the bedroll. His scent enveloped her and she felt another tug at her heart, no one smelled like that man. Bethany and Papa both had scents she associated with them when they were casting. Papa like fresh loamy earth and Bethany reminded her of apples, the tart and tangy ones. She remembered thinking Bethany’s magic should smell sweeter, more like her personality.

But Anders, he smelled like his magic all the time, it was just stronger when he cast. He smelled like the cold water of early spring, like the cool mountain air at the higher elevations, like the deep untouched forests in the mountains. It was soothing, refreshing, she buried her head and giggled. To her Anders smelled like the thing he wanted most in the world, freedom. The mountains were always her favorite as a child and had been the first place she had gone after leaving Lothering.

She snuggled down into the bedroll as it warmed rapidly; she hadn’t even realized that she had been cold. With his scent surrounding her, and the warmth of the bedroll nestled around her it was easy for her to fantasize about him holding her, curled up around her from behind, his chin resting above her head his long legs running the length of her own and further. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel it.

********

Anders tossed and turned on his cot. It was difficult to get comfortable knowing Hawke was so close, sleeping in the next room, sleeping in his bedroll. He was aroused, couldn’t help it. He had tortured himself with touching her so intimately when he healed her, there was no reason he needed to touch her, or remove her armor other than he had wanted to. It was only with great will power that he had been able to stop himself from taking off her tunic and trousers. She had put up no resistance at all and he was sure she would have let him continue undressing her.

Even now he was sure that if he were to get out of the cot and go to her she would not turn him away which was why he was still awake, warring with himself, torturing himself with thoughts of her. The moment he had seen her he had wanted to take her into his arms, to soothe and heal her. And as soon as Dogan was gone he hadn’t been able to stop himself from wanting to touch her, from wanting her. Having her alone and vulnerable in his clinic had stirred him in dangerous ways. 

It hadn’t just been desire to bed her that had moved him, but desire to take care of her, to provide the comfort she so obviously needed. It still stung that she thought he had been pretending to care. He had wanted to tell her how wrong she was but she didn’t want to hear it and he knew it would be better for them both if she believed he saw her only as someone he worked with. The knowledge didn’t make him feel any better.

He closed his eyes, trying desperately to shove thoughts of her out of his mind, wanting to try to get a little more sleep before morning. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to be there or not when he woke up. As he slipped into slumber thoughts of her sleeping just feet away still plagued his mind.

It was wrong of him, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. He rarely indulged in fantasies anymore since Justice had put a leash on him. But here in his little corner of the Fade it couldn’t hurt, just a harmless fantasy, a bit of ‘what if’ to make his night easier. Justice seemed concerned that Anders wanted some sort of sordid sexual fantasy but all he really wanted was to be with her, to hold her, to not be afraid to show her how he really felt.

The two of them, somewhere far from Kirkwall, in a small secluded clearing, a stream burbling nearby as they had a picnic, alone except for the ever present Tyr, even in fantasies he couldn’t manage to prise her away from the dog. It was all so simple, so seemingly harmless, talking freely about anything and everything, touching her without that deep ache. Even a chaste kiss or two, alright maybe not so chaste, but it was nothing more and there was no expectation of more.

As the sun set she moved so she was watching it with him, leaning back against him, head on his chest as he curled an arm around her. The sunset was beautiful, pinks, purples and hazy golds, and Anders enjoyed it but mostly he enjoyed the feel of her against him as they watched it. 

She pulled away from him and he ached to feel her again immediately. But she lay down and tugged him down to lie behind her. She scooted backward until her body pressed against his and he wrapped his arms around her. His heart was racing in his chest even though he knew it was only a dream, that none of it was really happening. He kissed the top of her head, and took long slow breaths, and then inhaled even deeper as he caught her scent, that wild unrestrained something that he loved.

He caught her hitching her breath, “What’s wrong love?”

“You’ll laugh.” A quiet declaration on her part.

Her quiet worried him, she was hardly ever quiet. In fact, tonight in the clinic had only been the second time he had seen her be quiet at all. “Try me?”

She snuggled back a little more, tucking her head down a little. “I hate that this only a dream, that this is the closest I’ll ever get to you.”

His heart felt like it stopped beating, “What?”

“Nothing,” her voice picking up a forced lightness, “don’t mind me, just hold me close please.”

Dreams were a funny tricky thing, his own fears parroted to him from the lips of his dream lover. He ignored it, agreeing with her that all he really wanted at this moment was to hold her in the waning light.

As morning neared Justice pulled him from slumber admonishing him that there were things to be done that were more important that his ridiculous Fade fantasies. He sat up and stretched before grabbing a long sleeved tunic from the chest and pulling it on. He laced it up tight; he didn’t like the stares when people saw his scar. Still wearing his trousers from the night before he opened the door into the clinic hoping she would still be there.

She was sitting on the edge of the cot bent over tying her boot, her armor already all in place. Tyr sat attentively at her feet panting happily. He felt disappointment wash over him, she was obviously ready to leave and he had hoped for at least a little more time with her. She glanced up at him and quickly looked back down. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she had blushed when she looked at him. 

It amused him to no end that a woman as crass as she could be was capable of blushing. Sometimes he thought her mouth was all an act. Sometimes he was sure she would have given him a run for his money in his more carefree days.

“Morning.” He mumbled, not sure what else to say.

She finished with her boot and sat up, “Morning.” She turned and picked up his bedroll, already neatly tied up for him, she crossed to him with a hesitant smile. “Thank you, it was very comfortable.”

This time he watched the flush climb up her neck. He bit his lip for a moment and made a decision. “You had sweet dreams I hope.”

The flush darkened. “Uh, yes, they were rather nice.” She took a breath and seemed to regain herself. “And you? Did you sleep well, any nice dreams, perhaps naughty ones?”

Ah well, they were back to this; it was alright he had seen her reaction to the question about her dreams and knowing she had been dreaming about him was enough to keep him feeling pretty good for a few days at least. “It was a night without nightmares and that’s a good night’s sleep in my book.”

She nodded, not bothered at all that he didn’t take the bait. Turning she seemed to take in the whole of the clinic before she looked back to him. “Did you need any help this morning? I have nothing else I need to be doing right now.”

He thought quickly, he wanted her to stay. “Do you mind helping wash the linens?”

She shrugged, “Sure, when do your patients start coming in?”

“We’ll start seeing them come in as soon as I light the lanterns, but I would prefer to get the washing done first. I’ll need them by the end of the day and if we wash them now they should be dry by time I need them.” He walked over to the crate in the corner that held the dirty linens and to wooden tub he used to do the washing in.

He canted his head at her as he began filling the tub with water, a simple spell that had become a life saver in his little Darktown clinic. “You might not want to wear your armor, it’ll likely get wet.”

She raised a brow and smirked, “Are you trying to get me to undress for you Anders?”

He had a few flashes of the night before and thought briefly of making a comment about how willing she had been to let him undress her last night but held his tongue. “It’s up to you, it was just a thought.” He was actually feeling pretty good after sleeping last night. Usually he let her wind him up with her teasing, he actually felt calm about it today. 

He was even more pleased when she started removing her armor.

********

Bethany was worried, more worried than she was willing to admit. She paced around the Gamlen’s snapping at Gamlen and his muttered remarks. If she heard him say they would all be better if Sekhmet was dead she was going to turn him to ash herself.

It was well past noon and Sekhmet was still missing. She had gone to Varric’s this morning but neither he nor Isabela had seen her sister. She had even gone to ask Aveline to have the guard keep an eye out for her, something Sekhmet would never forgive her for if she found out. Aveline had waived it all off telling her not to worry.

She had thought several times about going to Anders’ but didn’t want to interfere if something had finally happened between them. And she told herself again and again not to worry, Tyr was with her. That dog would defend Sekhmet to the death, he was a good Mabari and a great dog.

“After all the things that girl has done how can she leave us all here to worry like this? Such a selfish thing.” Her mother was staring into the fire wringing her hands and muttering.

Bethany had heard enough of all this crap her mother was spouting like Sekhmet was to blame for everything bad that had happened to them. “Mother, you have to stop this. Don’t you know what you’re doing to her? What you, what we allowed Carver to do to her? Why do you think she left the first time? She felt unwanted. Carver was so vicious, blamed her for so much and you let him. You never stood up for her. And neither did I.” A shame she still hadn’t gotten over.

“Don’t you remember what that did to her? She came back, she’s been taking care of us, been doing everything she can so we can have a better life. You know it’s not her fault Carver died. You have to stop blaming her or she might stop coming home at all. Is that what you want, for her to leave again? If it is you’re on the right track.”

Mother looked stricken. “Of course I don’t want her to leave.”

“Then act like it. Tell her you love her, that you don’t blame her. Apologize to her; let her know you want her here with us. You can’t blame her everytime you think of Carver. I know it hurts, I feel like I lost a part of myself and I want someone to blame but…” She took a shaky breath, just thinking about him sometimes was enough to send her into tears. “But that ogre killed Carver, no one else.”

Gamlen stood and glared at her, “That ogre might have been what killed your brother but it was that bitch of a sister of yours that tried to kill me. Stop acting like she’s some kind of hero, she’s a murdering thief and I want her and that damn dog out of my house!”

Mother glared at him, stalking across the room to stand toe to toe with him. “My daughter spared your life when she didn’t need to. My daughters keep food on our table while you spend your money on booze and floozies. My daughter’s dog keeps the collectors from breaking into your house and taking what few possessions you have. My daughter’s connections keep the criminal slime you associate with from hurting you or worse.” Her voice rose with every sentence and Gamlen seemed to shrink in on himself.

Taking a deep breath Mother continued much more calmly. “However, if it is your wish that the four of us leave we will look for lodgings immediately.” She turned and gave Bethany a smile, “Won’t we dear?”

Bethany was shocked; this was a side of her mother she hadn’t seen since her father had died. This strong, proud woman standing before her made her want to beam with pride. She was just sorry Sekhmet had missed it.

“No, that won’t be necessary. You’re family afterall.” Gamlen mumbled before easing back into his chair.

Her mother smiled at her and silently mouthed, “Thank you,” to her.

She wasn’t sure what she had done, but hopefully her mother would stop moping at last. And though she wanted to stay and be with her mother who seemed to finally be finding herself she needed to find Sekhmet. In her room she slipped into her robe with the chainmail that Carver had helped her make. Slipping the dagger Sekhmet had bought for her and had spent hours training her with into a sheath on her belt. She filled a pack with a few provisions determined to find Sekhmet before she returned to Gamlen’s. Grabbing her staff she headed for the door. 

Interruption or not she needed to go to Anders’ and see if he had seen her sister.

Hand on the door she paused, “I’m going to loo…” she stumbled backwards as the door suddenly opened.

Tyr came bounding in with a happy bark, licking her hand before trotting over to mother. Sekhmet came in slower and Beth was surprised that Sekhmet didn’t seem like she had a hangover or like she was feeling a mountain of regret. So, she was someplace all night not drinking and probably not having sex either. She didn’t seem overly dirty or beat up so where had she been and what had she been doing?

Mother hurried over to her and gave her a hug, “Oh, my darling girl, I’m so sorry.” She let Sekhmet go and held her out at arms’ length. “Are you alright? Where have you been, we were so worried.”

Bethany rolled her eyes a little at the display but was glad Mother was being decent. She walked over and looked Sekhmet over more closely, “Yes, are you alright?”

Her sister gave a small smile and nodded, “I’m fine. Anders took Tyr and I in last night. He let me sleep on a cot in his clinic and to repay him I helped with laundry this morning or I would have been home sooner.”

Beth snorted, “You sleep here all the time but never do laundry.”

Mother smiled, “You’d be surprised, Beth, by the things a woman is more than happy to do for a good looking man that she would never willingly do for her family.”

Sekhmet gave them a little smile but didn’t say a word.


	12. Side By Side

Sekhmet stood in front of the door for a moment, her hands laden with bags.  She felt hesitant to enter the clinic not quite sure how Anders would take to her encroaching upon his territory.  She decided it would be best to handle it like she handled most everything else, just jump right in with both feet.  Anders was generally easy enough to deal with, though by going into his territory she was taking away his ability to run away from her, so who knew what would happen?

She decided to go in with high hopes.  Regardless of him taking off on her on occasion, the two of them had some kind of bond or kinship.  So, taking a deep breath she kicked the door lightly and waited for him to answer.  There was nothing for several moments then his voice called out.  "Give me a minute."

A minute later she heard a quiet shuffling inside and a grin spread across her face, whenever she stood here waiting for him to come open the door it always sounded as if he was shuffling across the floor like an old man.  The shuffling steps came closer and she heard him pause on the other side of the door.  "It's just me Anders, let me in."

He grumbled a bit, nothing distinct and it was a few more moments before he pulled the door open.  Her heart beat sped up and she tried not to stare but she had gotten used to seeing him always completely covered in long loose fitting clothes.  And though he was still covered completely the outfit was far different from anything she had seen him in before.  The fabric was thin and cut close to his body.  

He raised a quizzical brow and grabbed several of the sacks from her.  "And what is all of this?"

She watched as the fabric moved with his lean body, pulling across the muscles of his arms and chest.  He turned from her and walked towards the tables at the back of the clinic.  Sekhmet was still watching him when he set the bags down; the fabric had pulled against his back when he walked as well as cupping and molding itself against his ass.  And she couldn't be sure but she was pretty sure she saw dark spots on his skin under the thin fabric that could only be more tattoos.  As a matter of fact it looked like most of his back was covered.

He turned back to look at her with a raised brow and leaned back to recline against the table.  "Are you going to tell me why you woke me up or are you just going to stand there and stare?"  Just the faintest touch of a smile graced his beautiful lips.

She chuckled, "We both know you weren't sleeping."

He gave a slight nod as if conceding the point and the sliver of a smile held steady.  "I could have been, and you're still staring."

She smirked back at him and crossed to the table he was leaning against, legs casually crossed as well as his arms.  "Perhaps I see something I like."  She set her bags down and carefully looked him over again.  His body was hardly concealed by the thin fabric.  He was all lean lines, long and stronger than she expected though he was a bit too skinny. 

She tore her gaze from him and pointed to one of the bags he had taken from her.  "There are some canisters in there; I want to make sure they are all still intact." 

He turned and started pulling them free of the bag checking each carefully for breakage before setting it aside.  She started pulling herbs, beeswax and oils from the other bags and separating them carefully.  Finished, he started moving around her, clearing off the few things of his that were remaining on the table and moving them to another.

With his new task done he stopped, standing directly behind her; she could feel him watching her for several minutes before he spoke again.  "So were you planning on telling me you were turning my clinic into an apothecary or were you just going to open shop and hope I didn't notice?"  His gentle teasing was appreciated; at least he hadn't tossed her out.

She began filling the canisters, "I figured you would like the company.  Besides, I can take care of a lot of the smaller injuries and illnesses without you having to waste your mana.  That way we can help more people without you exhausting yourself all of the time."

"Ah, so this is for my benefit."  She could hear the smirk in his voice.  He moved beside her and leaned against the table watching her again.

She tried to concentrate on her task but she couldn't stop looking at the man.  This time he didn't comment, though he obviously noticed, his smirk cranking up a notch as she dragged her eyes away again and again.  His amusement at her stares was bordering on arrogant and why did that make him even more appealing?  

And then it struck her, she realized why he'd seemed so familiar since they met, why she was so quickly attracted to him.  She almost laughed, especially, since she was pretty sure the reason she was so attracted to Anders was that he reminded her of herself: obsessive, confident bordering on arrogant with  a couple of deep insecurities, protective and a personality bigger than life.  Oh, and those dangerous good looks didn't hurt either.  Tall, scarred, tattooed and a story that could make the saints weep, it was like someone cooked him up to be a bad girl fantasy.  And if he was just a dream she had no intention of waking.

She wasn't sure how she had missed just how comfortable he was in his own skin until she had watched him lounging about in the barely there clothes he was currently wearing.  Even as tall as he was he had an easy grace to him, he was highly aware of his body, and his sexual appeal, as much as he tried to deny it.  It also explained Bethany's reaction to him, which almost made her want to leave Anders alone, regardless of what Beth had said.  It was the first time she had ever seen her sister show any interest in anyone. 

But she prided herself on being honest with herself, if with no one else.  She liked Anders, liked the puzzle of him, the back and forth dance the two of them were doing.  She wasn't used to having to chase a man or caring when he didn't seem interested.  No, he was different, make you tingle from across the room with just a glance in your direction, heating your blood with a smile different.  Oh, and the man was smart and _that_ just made it better.  

She smiled wide as she looked him over again, "Dressed like that Anders, I think I just learned all of your secrets."

He glanced casually down at himself before looking up at her, smirk sliding into a sexy little smile, "All of them, huh?"

The man must have been really tired if he was not only letting her flirt with him without a scolding but coming very close to flirting himself.  Her eyes kept trying to make out the tantalizing dark spots under the tunic.  What were they and how many did he have?  And thinking about the tattoos made it easier to keep her gaze above his waist and not wondering about what else was under that thin fabric.

She turned so she was facing him, "Admit it tall, blonde and gorgeous, you dressed that way just for me."  

Those honey brown eyes of his sparked with mischief.  "Well I did get dressed for you, answering my door in what I sleep in would be inviting trouble, especially from you.  Let's just say it's not suitable for polite company."  Just like that, calm and cocky, eyes watching her closely.  He was winding her up on purpose.

She nearly choked picturing the implication, "Sweet Maker, are you trying to kill me?"

He stepped close looming over her and dropping his voice just the slightest.  "It's a good thing you didn't show up fifteen minutes earlier."  The big bad wolf coming out to play again, it was such a simple statement, but enough to fill her head with images that would have her drooling for days.    

She gave an exaggerated shiver, "Thanks for that, my daydreams appreciate it."  

He chuckled a little as he stepped away, "Happy to help."  He slipped into his room closing the door three quarters of the way.  "So what's going on today, anything exciting?"

Clearly, the moment was over but it had been nice while it lasted.  "Bethany brought home a flyer last night about some guy needing help to find his wife and he's offering a reward.  Want to come with me?"

He strolled out of his room, leather trousers and long coat on, carrying his boots.  He sat on a cot to start tugging them on.  "Sounds good, and with any luck we can open the clinic later."

She had a girlish rush of excitement at his use of 'we'.  She couldn't believe herself, she was an adult and acting like an idiot.  Shouldn't she be more mature at her age, a little less prone to giddiness?  She felt as young as Bethany with her silly crush on their blonde haired mage.  Life certainly had a weird sense of humor.

********

Ghyslain was a pale and angry man.  The way the man spoke about his wife was riling Sekhmet.  It was men like him that made a woman never want to get married.  She grit her teeth trying to keep herself from stabbing the idiot.  Apparently, she wasn't doing a very good job because she felt a sharp tug on the back of her belt.  Jerking her head she saw Anders standing close to her, his eyes still on Ninette's jackass of a husband but the tiniest sliver of a curve touched his lips.

She debated briefly whether or not to be angry that he had grabbed her belt like he would a dog's collar to call an unruly hound to heel.  Finally, she decided not to get angry, no one else seemed to have noticed and he had just stopped her from committing murder in the Hightown market in the middle of the day.  Something she was sure even Aveline wouldn't have been able to help her out of.

Isabela was apparently doing no better than she was; Bethany's soothing voice had spoken to their pirate queen a couple of times to restrain her from injuring the idiot complaining about his wife.  And she had to respect Isabela for not breaking and killing the man.  Instead, she voiced her own concerns about what they were going to do.

"You're not seriously going to bring her back to this ass are you Hawke?"  Her words dripped with venom and Ghyslain didn't even look bothered by the outburst.

"We'll find out if something happened to her.  If we find her we'll let her know you're looking for her."  She turned away, sick of dealing with the bastard already.

"She is my wife, serrah.  She _will_ be brought back home."  His voice whined at her.

What was wrong with men that they never seemed to realize where the line was?  How was it that they seemed to have no idea when to shut their mouths?  She spun on her heel and shoved the pasty prick against the wall.

"Hawke," Anders' voice was sharp behind her.

"I'm fine, Anders."  She responded, quickly letting Ghyslain go.  "And you, serrah, are lucky your wife decided to leave instead of getting rid of you.  She's a kinder woman than I."  She turned back around and headed quickly down the stairs putting as much distance between her and Ghyslain De Carrac as she could as quickly as possible.  From their footsteps the others weren't far behind her.

As they walked away she heard Anders' voice, quiet and teasing, "Really Hawke, in the middle of Hightown?"

She gave him a mock glare, "I didn't ask you to interfere; besides all I was going to do was smack some sense into the idiot."

He flicked a gaze over his shoulder where Bethany was deep in conversation with Isabela before looking at her again.  "Riiiight, I'm sure you always grab a knife in a death grip before you smack some guy around."

Tension bled from her at the teasing.  She smirked and shrugged, "Well, if men weren't so dense I wouldn't need a knife to smack sense into them."

He didn't quite smile but his eyes caught a little twinkle, "I hope you'll at least cut me a little slack.  I don't mind being smacked around a bit, I enjoy a rough bit of play now and then, but I'm not a big fan of being stabbed.  Perhaps, just try asking first, or if your heart is set on getting physical just use your hands."  The last four words were spoken slower, more measured.  And his eyes held her momentarily captive.

What?  Flirting again, twice in one day?  Amazing.  She wasn't sure whether she should flirt back or not.  She didn't want him to balk now that she had finally gotten something from him.  He kept watching her as they walked and when she didn't speak for a moment his eyebrow raised questioningly, seeming to her almost like a challenge.  "I'll keep that in mind," she let that linger in the air for just a moment before finishing, "all of it."  She flashed him a sassy little smile.

He chuckled, "You do that."

She looked him over, head to toe, his lips were a little curled in a small semblance of a smile and he seemed somehow less heavy today.  She wondered where the change had come from "Someone's in a good mood today."

He nodded a little, "So I am, at least better than I have been."

She couldn't help a smug smile.  "In that case, I'm just going to congratulate myself on a job well done."

That raised eyebrow again, "Are you sure it was you?"

That gave her a moment's pause.  Was someone else charming her mage when she had failed so spectacularly?  But he didn't really know anyone besides her.  "Who do you know enough besides me to put you in a good mood?  Besides you were with me all morning."

He gave a noncommittal shrug, "You've introduced me to some very interesting and attractive people Hawke.  Could have been any of them, or even someone I met at the clinic."

He was teasing her, she knew it but it didn't make her feel any better about it.  The idea of him with someone else made her angry.  If the man was going to give in to someone it should be her, she'd been after him for weeks.

He chuckled again, "Did I just sign someone's death warrant?  Relax Hawke, there's no one, I just feel good alright?"

It should have made her happy, but a big part of her had wanted to be the one who brought on his good mood.  And wasn't that childish, couldn't she just be happy that he was feeling good?  She had no idea what was wrong with her lately, she had never been possessive of a man, had never felt jealous before.  Then again she had never fixated on someone before like she did with Anders.

It was his bad luck that he was the first person she had really wanted in more than a momentary passing fashion.  And perhaps both of their bad luck that she seemed to want more than just a little bit of nude recreation from him.  Not for the first time she wondered if he was so reluctant when it came to her because he was used to doing the pursuing instead of being pursued.  Maybe he thought she was too forward.  She frowned, what if he thought she was acting desperate?  No way to turn a man, or her, off faster.

"Hawke?"

She glanced back to him, "Mmm?"

He looked more serious than he had a moment ago but his eyes still held that spark of mischief.  "Is there a reason you're scowling?  Is there some rule that only one of the two of us can be in a good mood at any one time?"

Maker, he kept teasing her today.  What was different?  Why today?  Not that she was complaining, she just wanted to know what it was so she could repeat it in the future if possible.  Maybe even win another smile from him, a real smile, the full blown heart stopping smile she'd seen only once before.  "Sorry, just lost in my thoughts I guess."  She flashed him a small smile.

Was it just her imagination or were his eyes darker than they were a minute ago?  "And what ugly thoughts were you having that made you scowl like that?"

She paused for a moment, and he stopped beside her, eyes warm and watching her so closely.  What to tell him?  She couldn't admit to her jealousy, the man was uncomfortable enough with just her teasing and flirtations on most days.  So she really had no idea what to say to him.  She inhaled sharply, completely surprised when he reached for a piece of her hair and wrapped it around his finger.  His eyes steadily holding her own, but they weren't teasing anymore.  

"Tell me beautiful girl, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."  He let the hair slip away slowly and didn't seem to realize that Isabela and Bethany had stopped talking behind them.  

The two women were now completely focused on her and Anders. She couldn't blame them she almost didn't recognize this teasing, irreverent, and bolder Anders.  Was this more like the man he had been?  She realized she had bitten her bottom lip only when his gaze wandered to her lips and a flicker of heat rose in his eyes.  She took a deep breath calming her heart that had taken off at a wild gallop when he had played with her hair.  "I was just wondering what it would take to make you really smile again."

His eyes were focused on her lips again, or maybe lower, it was hard tell being as short as she was.  "Maybe I've simply forgotten how.  Perhaps you can remind me."  His tongue snaked out quickly and licked his bottom lip.  An unconscious gesture?

Her skin was tingling, and her heart was speeding up again.  He had taken things so much further today than he had ever let them go, even though they were just trading words.  Well words and the way he looked at her periodically.  And where had all her wit gone?  She could barely think right now.  So instead, she gave him another smile, tried for a sexy one but wasn't sure about her success.  "You have my word, I'll try my best."

"Of that I have no doubt."  He reached out and touched her wrist almost like he was going to take her hand.

Isabela cleared her throat loudly, "Before you two start rolling around naked in the market and give poor Bethany nightmares can we get going?  And perhaps the two of you can get a room at the brothel."

Anders dropped his hand and his demeanor changed so quickly it was like someone had doused him with ice water.  "Yes, we should be moving along.  Ninette could be in trouble."

Was that look of his, the one filled with shame, ever going to stop hurting?  She'd seen it at least a dozen times since they met and it always felt like someone had slapped her.  And what was worse?  She usually felt a flush creeping up her neck like she had done something wrong.  Maybe it was hard not to feel that way when he looked so ashamed.  

********

Bethany felt nauseous; her stomach had become a churning pit.  She was nervous about going to the brothel to begin with and the tense silence that had fallen over the group after Isabela's chastisement was only making it worse.  Her sister was distracted which didn't bode well if something bad should happen inside of the brothel.

She still wasn't sure what had prompted Isabela to interfere.  A few seconds before hand she had been musing about how much she would have liked to see Sekhmet and Anders…fooling around.  It had taken all of her restraint not to cover her ears as the pirate pontificated about her sister's body and how her small body would look fantastic next to Anders' rather lanky form.  Isabela had even asked her if Sekhmet fancied tattoos, assuring her that Anders had quite a few.  

She had been about to ask how Isabela knew about Anders' tattoos when the Rivani woman had interrupted her sister's and Anders' playful banter.  Anders had shut down, become almost cold to her sister.  And Sekhmet had flushed looking terribly ashamed and had been completely silent since.  Bethany couldn't understand either of their behavior.    
   
And now they were standing at the door in front of the Blooming Rose.  She'd never been in a brothel before, though she'd been curious and Sekhmet had offered to take her to one once.  Now she could sate her curiosity and claim it was work related, which it was.  It was true she'd never had a lover, but it was by her own choosing not because she didn't have options.  She'd had a few boys interested in courting her in Lothering, but had to be cautious because of her magic.

They crossed the threshold and Sekhmet stopped to take a quick look around.  Beth thought it looked terribly ordinary, she'd always imagined low lighting, hazy smoke and lots of perfume.  She glanced at Isabela who was watching Anders closely.  Bethany wanted to tell her to back off but was hesitant.  She'd caught Anders watching the pirate intently a few times in the last few days.  Perhaps, he was interested in Isabela.  Although, before she had been sure he wanted Sekhmet.  Putting her sister and him together might be more complicated than she originally thought.

"Let's get in and out of here quickly; I don't want someone trying to hire me again."  Anders grumbled.

Isabela laughed, "Really Anders, in Denerim you couldn't wait to take your clothes off and show me your electricity trick!"

Her sister dropped her head looking at the floor and scuffed her shoe against the carpet.  Should she go to her?  Her sister cared for Anders, finding out that he had bedded Isabela must have hurt.  It stung her and she wasn't really interest in him anymore.  She decided to stay where she was, not wanting to destroy her sister's illusion of looking bored.

Anders turned to Isabela, "Ah, that's where I know you from.  I kept thinking you looked familiar but couldn't place where I had seen you before.  Last time I saw you, you were curled up in a pile of furs with that girl with the griffon tattoo."

Isabela nodded, "The Lay Warden, yes, she was a special girl.  Though, not nearly so talented as a real Warden."

Anders shrugged, "I'll have to take your word for it."

"Come on, we need to find Jethann." She couldn't let them carry on, especially in front of her sister.

"Right," Sekhmet started forward with quick strides.  Once in what appeared to be the main room she waved them off while she went to go talk with an elven girl.

While she was gone Isabela and Anders kept talking, babbling about a woman named Sanga and a cross dresser that was nearly flawless as well as some other odd stuff.  Seeing Sekhmet on her way back she snapped at the two of them, "If you're done reminiscing about your whorehouse days together can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Relax Bethany, we're not doing anything important right now."  Isabela gave her a curious look.

Anders looked at her for a long moment before glancing at Sekhmet than back to Bethany again.  "No, she's right.  We can reminisce some other time."

He'd obviously figured out why she was upset and ended the conversation.  Sekhmet would probably kill her if she ever realized what she had done.  Her sister hated looking weak.  But someone had to look out for the older Hawke once in a while.

Sekhmet waved them over, "He's up the stairs, room on the left."  She smiled a tiny bit.  "It's supposed to be his rest day but she was sure he'd be willing to see me…us."  She headed for the stairs jogging up them.

Jethann turned out to be a red headed elf with the prettiest violet eyes Bethany had ever seen.  He was a little vulgar, but she supposed that was to be expected in a brothel.  Once they had as much information as they could get from him they headed out of the room.

"Are you sure I can't tempt you to question me alone, my white haired goddess?"  His voice had deepened a bit and sounded rougher.

Curious she turned to look and caught the elf openly ogling her sister.  

Her sister smiled and turned back, "I have the coin, tempt away."

Anders stepped towards Sekhmet's back then clenched his hands into fists spun on his heel and left the room in a hurry.  Isabela shook her head and laughed following Anders out of the room.  For a moment she thought about leaving too.  Let Anders see what it felt like to know Sekhmet was with another man.  But, Sekhmet had left this part of her life behind and Beth knew she was only doing it now because she was hurt.

"There has to be a better time for this, sis.  Ninette's still missing."  She let the smallest amount of fear slip into her voice, "What if she's been taken somewhere and tortured, what if she's waiting to be rescued?"  Over the top possibly, but it worked.

Sekhmet took a deep breath and dropped a few coins into Jethann's hand.  "Maybe another time, my thanks for letting a girl feel pretty for a few moments."

He scowled and gave the coins back, "No thanks needed for the truth pretty girl, now go find darling Ninette.  And you can give me this, when I actually earn it."  He gave her another lewd smile before heading to a wardrobe in the corner.

Her sister joined her and they headed downstairs, a quick scan found Isabela flirting with a tall fair skinned woman, but Anders was nowhere to be seen.  Isabela noticed them and headed towards them waving good-bye to the woman she had been chatting with.  Bethany was curious about the woman, did Isabela bed women too?

She'd heard rumors that her sister did but Sekhmet would never talk to her about it.  She'd seen Sekhmet flirting with women, but honestly, her sister flirted with just about everyone including boys who had barely reached puberty and men with one foot in the grave.  Maybe she would have better luck talking to Isabela about it.  Why would a woman want to be with another one?

"Where's Anders, we need to get going."  Her sister was all business now.

"Possibly outside or maybe he went back to Darktown.  I'm not really sure."  Isabela looked unfazed by her sister's brusque demeanor.

They found Anders outside leaning against the wall and scowling at the ground, snapping at any guard who tried to move him along.  He flicked his gaze in their direction and ended up doing a double take.  "Hawke?"

"What?  We have work to do."  She didn't bother to look at him as she crossed to the stairway winding down into Darktown taking the steps two at a time.

Anders fell into step beside Bethany, "So she didn't…"  He gestured with his hands as if she should know what he was talking about.

"Don't see how that concerns you."  Maybe she shouldn't be mad for her sister's sake but she was.  The way he'd toyed with Sekhmet today, first teasing her and then becoming so cold to her was just crap.  Where did he get off treating her sister like that?

"Are you angry with me Beth?"  He looked surprised.

"Don't Beth me."  She snapped, he was using the nickname to soften her.  She'd noticed he used the familiar name when he thought she was upset.  She wasn't falling for it this time though.  He'd hurt Sekhmet and then had the audacity to act angry when she had accepted Jethann's invitation.

"Alright, care to tell me what I did to deserve all this hostility?"  He looked up as Isabela jogged past them to walk with Sekhmet, frowning as she did.

Bethany rolled her eyes, "I don't understand you at all, Anders.  I really thought you cared about my sister.  She tried to tell me you didn't, but I didn't believe it.  The way you look at her, the way you look after her, I just really...Well, I suppose I should have listened to her.  I guess that's what makes her the older sister; she understands the world better than I do."

He'd paled a little as she had spoken and could barely look at her as he responded.  "It's not that simple."  

"You're the one who's making it complicated, no one else." She shot back.

"I know."  And he suddenly looked impossibly sad.  "I don't mean to hurt her.  You know that don't you?"

Why did he care what she believed?  And how was she supposed to stay angry with him looking at her like that with those big sad brown eyes.  "I don't know what to believe.  I don't…I don't know a lot about men." 

They had reached Darktown and the stench was overwhelming.  He crowded her a little making her step back until he had her in a corner.  His eyes focused sharply on her before deliberately looking down at her cleavage.  "Seems to me you know plenty about men."

Her eyes roved over his shoulder to find Sekhmet.  Her sister was chatting with a few Fereldens probably hoping to narrow the search.  Jethann had sent them after a Templar and a Templar was sure to stick out in a place like Darktown.

Content her sister was otherwise engaged she glared at Anders.  "What do you think you're doing?"  Her voice was angry and she felt hot anger burn through her again.

He stepped away from her pushing his hand into his bound hair.  "Losing my mind?"  His eyes drifted closed and he took a slow breath.  "I'm sorry, right thought, wrong action."  His eyes opened and they were just sad again, sad and filled with pain.  "Definitely one of my more idiotic ideas, not that I'm terribly famous for having any good ideas."   
    
She stepped away from the wall.  "What's going on?"

"It'd be easier for us both if she hated me.  I wouldn't have hurt you.  I just…"  He chuckled darkly,  "expediency and all."

"You were going to use me to make her angry."  She took time to absorb it.

"She said she'd kill me if I touched you."  He wasn't looking at her now; his gaze was back on Sekhmet, with such a look of longing it nearly broke her heart.  

"She really would have killed you.  Not just hated you, she would have actually killed you."  He was possibly even crazier than her sister.

"I know, it would have been a relief."  His eyes watched every little movement of her sister as she spoke with a few residents.

"Why, what could possibly be so terrible that you would want to die?"  She thought she had a pretty firm grasp on how awful life could be.  She'd lost much in her life including her twin brother, lost the other half of herself and nothing would ever fix that.  For the rest of her life she would feel like less than a whole person, would feel his absence with every breath and every heartbeat.  She turned her mind away from Carver, worried she wouldn't be able to hold her composure.

"To save her from me.  You've seen it yourself.  I hurt her again and again.  And yet I can't stay away from her, can't stop thinking about her.  I imagine this must be what addiction feels like."  His lips bowed into a bitter smile.  "Addicted to your sister, a fitting punishment for me."  The smile faded, "But not for her, she deserves better than that, better than me."

Sekhmet glanced over at them and shot her a small smile.  She must have discovered where the Templar was, or close to finding out.  Another Templar who would no doubt disappear without a trace.  She seldom interfered with her sister when Templars were involved.  She nodded her head in acknowledgement not able to return the smile.  

When her sister looked away she turned her attention back to the mage beside her.  "You think caring for her is a punishment?  How could you think that?  She's never done anything to hurt you, to make you doubt her."  

He still wouldn't look at her.  "I'm not a nice guy; I'm not even a decent guy.  Sometimes, with your sister, I forget that.  Or maybe I want to be nice and decent so badly that I pretend that I am.  Sooner or later though reality rears its head and I remember what I am.  I remember that forgetting is dangerous to her and everyone else around me."  His voice sounded funny and then he stopped and looked away.

"Anders?"  She was never going to figure men out at this rate.  Though between her sister, Aveline and Isabela she wasn't sure she understood women either.  It wasn't that she was naïve; it was more that everyone she seemed to know was just a touch crazy.  

Sekhmet had stopped speaking with the Ferelden and was ready to move on.  She took a few steps towards the two of them then stopped, obviously seeing that something was wrong.  "Hey, what's the hold up?  Is he alright?"  

"We're fine.  Go on, we'll be there in a minute."  An excuse would have helped but she just couldn't think of one that quickly.  Lying didn't come easily to her, never had.  Thankfully, Sekhmet just gave her an odd look before she and Isabela took off.

"Anders?"  She tried again.

He gave a nod, "I'll be alright, just give me a minute.  Go help your sister."

She hadn't meant to upset him so much, or maybe she had but seeing it she just felt mean.  She took a small step away and tried not to look at him as he fought for control of himself.  Emotions slid over his face like cascading water, one after another in a rush.  If it was balance he was looking for it looked like it might take a while.  He took a few deep breaths though he still wouldn't look at her.

She was startled when he let out another dark laugh.  "Do you believe in fate?"

"Fate?  I don't know, sometimes I do and sometimes I don't.  Sekhmet tells me that people control their own fate, but I'm not always so sure.  I think…" She stopped, she was just babbling because she wasn't sure what else to do.

He looked at her finally and sighed, "Fate and I have…a history.  From my…mother, to the Circle, to my freedom and even…my…my sanity, fate and I have sparred back and forth my entire life."  His words were halting and his eyes began to look strange.

"I don't understand, what does that have to do with my sister?"  He wasn't making a lot of sense and they needed to catch up with Sekhmet in case there was trouble.

"Want to know a secret, little Hawke?"  His eyes were wide and almost looked crazed.

Should she worry to be here alone with him like this?  Would he lose himself to Justice?  "Uhm, what secret?"

"Fate sent your sister to me; it couldn't break me with pain, anger or solitude so it's trying to break me with the one thing I've always wanted.  Someone to love me."  He chuckled again, "I know, you think I'm mad, I do too half the time.  When I was a Warden we had…dealings with Flemeth.  Once, she told me there was someone I had to meet.  And when I saw her on Sundermount with you and your sister she told me that person was your sister.  That she was _for_ me."  He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I didn't hear her say that."  The witch had barely acknowledged anyone besides Sekhmet.  She had been intensely fixated on her sister.

"And if you don't think I'm mad yet you certainly will now.  She spoke in my mind, that's how I heard her.  So, no matter how I feel about your sister there can never be anything between us."  He looked at her as if that explained everything.  When she just watched him, unsure how he could come to that conclusion he sighed tiredly and spoke again.

"I am possessed of a spirit who has a merciless thirst for justice and would kill her in a moment if he felt she had committed some injustice, no matter how slight.  Add to that a witch saying we were fated to be together.  Eventually, I'll end up killing her or running away.  Either way it's nothing but a recipe for disaster."  He seemed calmer now, less manic.

"You can't know that for sure, maybe you're supposed to be together so that she can help you and so that you can help her."  She couldn't believe that the two of them would both want the other but would never be able to be together, it was too cruel.  Wasn't love supposed to conquer all?

"Would you risk it if you were me?"  A small self deprecating smile graced his pretty lips.

"No, I suppose not.  But there has to be a way."  She wasn't sure Sekhmet would ever be happy without him.

"If you think of one, let me know."  He turned and headed off in the direction Sekhmet and Isabela had gone.

Her mind was whirling, she wasn't sure how much of Anders' story to believe and even if she believed all of it she found it difficult to accept that the two of them had to stay apart.  No, there must be something about the two of them together that helped Anders, there had to be.  Not to mention her sister was calmer around Anders, less angry.  She'd have to think it over, for now they really did need to get to Sekhmet and Isabela.

********

He'd slipped today.  Hawke had disarmed him this morning showing up with those supplies and staring at him so openly, so unashamedly.  Since leaving the Circle he'd come to terms with some things about himself.  He was impulsive he'd always known that, in the Circle the littlest things could trigger his desire.  Long hair haloed in sunlight, an overly studious student biting their bottom lip, even a singing voice he had never heard before could heat his blood and he'd go out of his way to seduce them before his attention wandered again.

At the Keep he'd realized his penchant for those who were sweet and vulnerable.  Trying to stay away from them had been difficult to say the least, but he had been trying to be a better man.  To be worthy of the title of Warden and not just someone 'Reyna had taken pity on and saved.  He'd hit snags again and again, the biggest of which was the realization that more than anything else he wanted to be wanted.  The simple act of lusting after him was enough to catch his attention, to make him want whoever it was in return.  Was it ego?  Narcissism?  He had no idea, but still fell prey to it nonetheless.  And this morning had been no different.

Hawke always flirted with him, but she flirted with everyone.  This morning she had flirted but she had also been staring with hunger in her eyes.  A different time she would have never left his clinic without spending some serious time in his bed.  It had been a thrill to feel that rush and he'd let himself enjoy it, had even teased her.  And when she hadn't pushed him he'd felt more relaxed or at least more like himself than he had in months.

Which led to him making mistakes like being too intimate with her and then rushing out of the Blooming Rose like a jealous lover.  On top of that he'd shared things with Bethany he never had intentions of sharing with anyone.  He'd nearly wept in front of the girl; his sleepless nights were taking more of a toll on him than he thought.  The last time he'd had a decent night's sleep had been the night Hawke had spent in his clinic.  He'd spent many nights since then sitting on the cot where she had slept thinking about her, trying to puzzle out a way he could protect her without having to stay away from her.

By the time he'd finally pulled himself together Hawke had finished with the Templar, and had surprisingly let the man leave with his life.  Isabela had stared holes through him clearly looking for gossip while Hawke had barely acknowledged him.  Even Bethany was quite now, reserved.  He'd scared the poor girl he was sure.  

Hawke looked straight to her sister.  "We're going to check out a Foundry in Lowtown.  Did you two have other things to take care of?  Isabela and I can snag Varric on the way if you're busy."  

Bethany scowled, "No, why would I be busy?"

"Nothing," she turned to him, "I take it that means you're not busy either?"

He ignored the implication that he was only free because Bethany was, "I'm ready, let's get going."

********

They'd reached the Foundry just as the sun was starting to set.  As soon as the door swung open he nearly gagged, there was some odd kind of magic in the air, cloying and sweet almost sticky feeling.  Bethany reeled a little as she came in and he couldn't blame her, it was strong.

Hawke scowled, "What in Andraste's name is that?"

Isabela was looking at them all oddly, "What?  What am I missing?"

He'd suspected Hawke had been able to feel his magic before, but this was proof she could feel magic.  "How can you feel that if you're not a mage?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, always could.  Papa didn't know either, though I admit right now I wish I couldn't.  This is just gross, like a melted sweet in your pocket when you go to grab a coin."

"Oh, eww.  Guess I'm glad I can't feel what you're all feeling then.  For a moment there I was feeling left out."  Isabela walked past the three of them looking around carefully before her.  She spoke in hushed excited tones, "Quick, come here, there's someone up on the second floor."

Hawke hurried to the doorway heading into the next room and he stood behind her.  He caught sight of a retreating figure.  From its height probably male, it looked to be carrying a staff which would explain the magic they'd felt.  He didn't even realize Hawke had headed off until he heard the low groaning noises of summoned shades and followed the sound to see Hawke already across the large room and headed up the stairs.

Unable to contain a sigh of irritation at having to face the summoned creatures he stepped into the room and helped Isabela and Bethany to clear it.  He glanced up from time to time to see Hawke fighting abominations above them, but she didn't seem to need assistance.  She slipped out of sight just as a desire demon suddenly popped up and he'd had enough.

"Get back," he yelled and loosed a heavy dose of chain lightning as Isabela and Bethany got out of the fray.  The desire demon got hit with the bulk of it killing her almost instantly.  The shades that had already been weakened died as well and the few that were left were easy enough to dispatch with quick sparks of magic as he dashed across the room and up the stairs.

Hawke had disappeared into a room and he didn't like not being able to see her.  He found her engaged with two more shades, though she got rid of them both before he could call up a spell.  Bethany and Isabela rushed into the room behind him.

"Spoilsport, you didn't even save us any."  Isabela joked.

Hawke flashed her a smile, "Sorry, you looked like you were otherwise engaged."

"We were until Prince Charming over here got worried about you and killed everything in the room in a flash."  The pirate queen grinned at him.

Hawke flashed him a grin and he found himself giving her a small smile.  He'd resolved to keep things between them strictly professional and like all the times he'd made the same resolution in the past he was failing spectacularly at keeping it.  She did certainly seem charmed to know he'd come running to her possible rescue and he couldn't help but feel good.  Not to mention she was smiling again.

Better down play this whole thing before he got carried away with himself.  "I'm the healer; it's my job to keep eyes on everyone in case they need help.  I couldn't see you anymore and needed a line of sight."

Isabela snorted, "Healer my ass.  I've seen battled hardened mages packing less fire power."

"I was pressed to take extraordinary measures to keep watch over my charges."  He tried so hard to sound earnest.

Bethany started giggling; she covered her mouth and apologized.  She tried to hang on but lost it and started laughing, Isabela right on her heels.  Hawke smiled then giggled, she made a few more attempts at stopping and finally gave up.

"I don't think they believe you."  She snickered.

Ah women, the Maker's bane on the sanity of men.  He tried to be annoyed that they were laughing at him, but it had been a pretty lame response.  He couldn't quite laugh but he smiled, a small one at first before even his lips turned traitor on him and he gave the girls a real smile.

Immediately, the heat sparked back in Hawke's eyes.  Her pupils dilated and her eyes darkened from their usually crystalline blue to an almost stormy grey color.  He reined the smile in; he'd had enough playing with fire for one day. 

"I'm going to look around see what I can find.  When you three can pull yourselves together perhaps you can join me."  He rolled his eyes at their renewed laughter and started checking the rest of the rooms on the second floor.  He couldn't find any trace of the man or where he might have gone but he did make a more gruesome discovery.

He picked up a blood stained cloth sack and peeked inside.  Reality settled over him like a lead weight and he walked back to the women who were in the midst of interchangeably mocking his lame explanation for his sudden show of power and talking animatedly about how he had destroyed all the shades.  He almost wished he could enjoy their odd praise.

"I found something."  His serious tone quieted them immediately.

Bethany reached for the sack, "What is it?"  She scowled when he pulled it out of her reach and handed it to Hawke.

She glanced in and closed her eyes for a moment, "Are they all human?"

He nodded, "Look at the ring.  I think it might be Orlesian.  It could be Ninette's."

"Poor woman, having to live with a husband like that only to meet an even unhappier end."  She sighed again, "Come on, we need to show this to Emeric and we should let Ghyslain know what happened to her.  Maybe I'll swing by the Rose and let Jethann know, he seemed to care for her."

He felt a surge of anger and jealousy at the mention of Jethann but it was gone just as quickly.  He had no claim on her, and planned on never making one.  Sooner or later someone was going to catch her eye and care for her the way she deserved and if he wanted to be any part of her life at all he'd need to learn to live with it.

"Why don't you go talk to Emeric, I'll go see Ghyslain.  I know how much you adore him.  And I think I'll head back to the clinic afterwards, it's getting late or early I suppose."  He was gratified to see how relieved Hawke seemed.  She was probably afraid she'd kill the angry, bitter Orlesian.  

She hesitated suddenly, "You know where to find him?  As you said, it's late." 

"I'll find him.  Just promise me you won't kill any Templars while you're at the Gallows."  He was only half kidding.

She gave him an over exaggerated sigh, "Oh, I suppose if I must.  I promise.  And Anders?"

The day had been a crazy one full of ups and downs and he was feeling worn and still had no idea how he was going to deal with not only his own feelings towards Hawke, but the fact that Bethany now had an idea of how much he cared for her older sister.  It was a lot to think about and weighed on him heavily.  He just wanted to see if the ring was Ninette's then crawl into his cot.  "Yes?"  He hoped he'd managed to keep his sudden weariness out of his voice.

"I hope your clinic has good locks.  The next time I come by early in the morning I won't be knocking."  She gave him a wide teasing smile.

He chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind."


	13. Halfling

 

Justice had enough of this woman dragging him and Anders all over the city on her pointless ‘jobs’, there was never an end to them and he and Anders had more important things to attend to. He surged forward, instinctively pushing Anders back and was surprised that he had actually been able to break through. “We have no time for your distractions.” His voice resonated off the walls of Anders’ clinic.

The Hawke woman smirked at him, “Well, hello beautiful, I’ve been wondering where you went. I haven’t seen you since the Chantry.”

That was an odd statement. “You see us almost everyday.”

“No, I see Anders almost everyday. Your beautiful blueness is usually missing though.” She was still smiling and he found it irritating.

Her dog was even more irritating. It was growling, lips peeled back baring its teeth. Slowly, it crept forward sniffing the whole time before giving a confused sounding whimper and backing away again. The dog stayed beside his mistress growling intermittently.

“What is wrong with your dog?” he couldn’t help being confused, Pentheryn had never reacted to him in such a way.

“You look like Anders, you even smell like him, but clearly you’re not Anders. It doesn’t make sense to him and makes him uneasy.” She was so calm, like it made perfect sense.

“I am Anders.” He and the mage were joined, were one.

She just cocked her head a little, “No, you’re not. You’re Justice. If you were Anders it wouldn’t bother Tyr.”

“Anders and I are one; your dog must feel the Fade. After Karl we realized that our merging joined not just our consciousness but Fade and flesh as well. Now, quiet the beast.” He should not have to explain himself to this woman.

She rubbed the dog’s head. “Tyr, this is Justice. He won’t hurt you, or me.”

The dog stopped growling but let out another short whine.

He did not have the time or the patience for this. He and Anders were studying all the texts they could find on the Chantry and its structure. Anders had taken the adage “know your enemy” to heart and wanted to understand how the whole religious order worked in order to find the best ways to dismantle the entire thing. Anders kept his research to himself, not sure Hawke would approve of his new, much broader objective.

Justice was not as sure the secrecy was necessary, he had seen Hawke’s own zeal for himself, but would respect Anders’ wishes. The man cared far too much what the small woman thought of him for Justice’s liking. And, he had begun to question Anders’ own commitment. He seemed content to run off with the small Hawke woman at any time leaving the research and therefore action for a later time. They had been idle on this matter for too long already. They needed to take action, not just read musty books.

Irritation tried to flutter into anger and he knew the woman needed to leave before he hurt her. Anders would get nothing done for days, instead slipping into deep melancholy if Justice were to hurt his friend. He had already been subjected to several of the mage’s darker moods. It had been tedious, so he would get rid of the woman and then they could get back to the important matter at hand. 

He stalked forward, fully expecting Sekhmet to retreat, most people did. But she held her ground, that maddening smile still in place. “You will leave now.”

She shook her head, “Sorry, Justice, no can do. I need Anders today.”

He ground Anders’ teeth in frustration. His mind repeating over and over _“must not hurt her, must not hurt her”_. He tried to get rid of her again. “Anders is busy. We have things to attend to.”

“Funny, Anders just told me he would be more than happy to help.” Her smile was still firmly in place.

He wanted to smack the smug smile off her face. He wanted her out of Anders’ life completely. Briefly, he wondered if it would not be easier just to kill her. Anders would eventually recover, he was resilient after all, and would likely get to work on the things that really mattered. He took a few deep breaths as Anders sometimes did to calm himself. There would be no justice in killing her. She did not force Anders to follow her, she asked. Anders was the one who could not focus and he would not punish her for Anders’ faults. “Anders is easily distracted. And you are a distraction.”

Her smile widened even more, “Glad to know I at least register. But seriously Justice, I need Anders today and he already agreed to help. It wouldn’t be right to go back on his word now.”

He studied her carefully for a few more moments before deciding she was right, he would not make a liar out of Anders. Something would need to be done about the woman’s hold over Anders, but not today. He slipped back and let Anders take control again. 

********

Panic making his heart race, Anders was grateful that Justice had stepped back. Anders hadn’t been able to focus enough to pull Justice back. His fear of Justice hurting Hawke had been overpowering especially as Justice had not shielded his thoughts from him at all. He shook his head, struggling to keep from shaking her for challenging Justice like that. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

She quirked an eyebrow, like he was the one that was crazy. “No, he’s not so bad. Whatever happened when you two merged he still thinks of himself as a spirit of justice, so I treat him as such.”

Should he tell her just how close she was to pushing Justice over the line? Probably not. “One of these days you might not be able to reason with him like that.” He kept his voice quiet, she’d just argue with him if he tried to push the issue.

Her purple lips curled into a slip of a smile, her small teeth showing between, “One of these days one of these jobs might get me killed. In the meantime, I see no need to jump at every shadow I see.”

“So where are we going? Do I need to bring my tent and bedroll?” He was already strapping his staff to his back, his thumb sliding over the fabric binding the cracked wood together. Before long it would need replacing. Already, its ability to channel energy was severely hampered. He’d need to take more jobs with Hawke to be able to afford even the materials to make a decent one and he’d never actually made his own before, though he knew the logistics of it.

“No, just your gorgeous self.” Her eyes skittered away from him quickly and she turned heading for the door. “It’s just a few small jobs, but I expect lots of resistance.”

He wasn’t sure what exactly had changed with her, but the last few times they had seen each other, she flirted like she always did but she never really looked at him when she did it. Perhaps another had already snagged her attention. Perhaps her flirtations were more habit than real interest now. The idea both soothed him and made him ache. Quietly, thinking to himself, he followed her out of the clinic, locking his doors on the way.

Bethany was there waiting for the two of them. She gave him an awkward smile, something else that had been happening the last few times he had seen the Hawke sisters. He expected Beth’s odd behavior though. Hawke’s attention was probably elsewhere and Beth thought he was crazy after his ramblings, his delusions of grandeur of him against Fate.

He started forward only to be stopped by Tyr. The big black dog stood in front of him sniffed him a coupled times then nuzzled his hand and licked it before barking happily. Trying not to grimace he wiped his hand on his coat. “Does that mean I pass big guy?” He scratched the dog’s ear a little trying to reassure it.

“I think he’s just glad that you’re you again. I don’t think he cares for Justice much.” Hawke quietly waved Tyr over to her; she knew he wasn’t completely comfortable with the dog and it’s over enthusiastic affection.

“The feelings were quite mutual.” He let out a breath, “Shall we go?”

Hawke quietly led them out of Darktown, her enormous dog keeping stride beside her. As they reached Lowtown and turned away from The Hanged Man Anders gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep his mouth shut. They were headed to the Alienage which meant that Hawke was going to ask Merrill along. He avoided Merrill as much as he could, he disliked blood mages and her naïveté was grating.

Beth was sweet and naïve, but she was also strong and smart. Merrill on the other hand was creepy, seemingly frail, even her personality seemed a delicate thing. And smart was not a word he would associate with the elf. Hawke didn’t take her with them all that often and when she did it was generally because she was trying to keep Varric happy. 

The dwarf had, for some unknown reason, taken a fondness to the girl and had adopted her in a way. He supposed it was good that Merrill had someone to look over her; perhaps Varric could keep her from making any further terrible mistakes with her life. Blood mage or not he didn’t want to see her captured and taken to the Gallows.

As they entered the Alienage he saw a Templar talking to a small elven woman and felt Hawke tense beside him. Looking around he didn’t see any other Templars, which was a surprise. Bethany placed a hand on Hawke’s arm, clearly meant to restrain her older sister. “Wait.”

Hawke nodded but didn’t relax. They stood a little out of the way listening to the elven woman speak with the lone Templar about her missing son, Feynriel. The boy was a mage who she had been hiding from the Templars but now suddenly she wanted the Templars to find. Hawke was shifting her weight back and forth as the Templar and elven woman spoke, tension coiled in every movement. At last the Templar walked away, moving past the three of them as if he didn’t even see them.

Bethany looked to Hawke, “We have to help her, this could have been our mother.”

Hawke scowled, “No, mother would never have let the Templars take you. And neither would I.”

“Fine, alright, but can we please help this poor woman? She’s out of her mind with worry for her son.” Her voice pleaded softly.

Before Hawke spoke he knew the answer, Hawke could refuse Bethany nothing it seemed. Hawke gave Bethany a smile and crossed to the elven woman. “I’m guessing that Templar wasn’t here to offer your son his good wishes.”

The woman’s name was Arianni, a Dalish elf who had a ‘dalliance’, as she called it, with a human and became pregnant. She ended up in the Alienage when the Dalish did not want a human blooded child among them and the man who had gotten her with child hadn’t wanted anything to do with an elf blooded child either.

Anders listened intently to Arianni’s story. She had realized when Feynriel was young that he had magic, but had not wanted to give him up to the Circle; he was all that she had. So they had stayed in the Alienage and out of the Templar’s sight. However, recently her son had been having terrible dreams where demons spoke to him. 

Worried that he might become possessed she had contacted the Circle, hoping that they could help him. When Feynriel had discovered that Arianni had contacted the Templars he had fled. He didn’t want to end up a prisoner in the Circle. Anders understood that well enough.

The Templar she had been speaking to was called Thrask, she said he was trying to take Feynriel in peacefully, but had been unable to locate the boy. He had come to the Alienage urging her to try to find her son as well, but Feynriel felt betrayed by her and had not even spoken to her before he disappeared. Arianni was terrified of what might happen to her son if a Templar other than Thrask found him. She was convinced Thrask was a good man; Anders, finding it hard to believe, just kept his mouth shut.

If there was a way for mages to be trained without the threat of the Circle Arianni wouldn’t have had to turn on her own son. Feynriel wouldn’t have had to run away from his only home and his mother’s love just to be free. He could only imagine what must be going on in Feynriel’s head, the boy was probably terrified.

He was relieved when Hawke agreed to help look for the boy, perhaps they could help him. Arianni wasn’t sure where he might be but knew that the boy’s father, Vincento who was a merchant, had recently returned to Kirkwall. She thought the boy might have sought him out, he had never really accepted that his father had abandoned them. Hawke promised the woman to look for Feynriel right away. 

Anders was almost ashamed at his relief when Hawke left the Alienage without fetching Merrill. The blood mage was just one more complication that none of them needed. And there was no need to expose a boy who was struggling with his magic to someone like Merrill; it could send him down a very dark path.

Hawke went straight to the Lowtown market and after a few quick inquires found Vincento. The man sounded like a bad imitation of a lothario. Anders shook his head and held his tongue and he noticed that Hawke was struggling not to outright laugh. Bethany seemed better equipped to deal with the man and Hawke let her. 

She told Vincento they were looking for his son and when the merchant tried to deflect Bethany called a little magic to her hands to show him she was a mage as well. Anders anxiously craned his head around keeping an eye out for any Templars and Hawke did the same. Finally, the man admitted Feynriel had come to him looking for aid. Not knowing what else to do Vincento had sent the boy to a former Templar named Sampson. Vincento was even able to tell them that they could find Samson at one of the entrances to Darktown at night.

No one wanted to go to the Gallows to find the Templar Thrask, so without any other lead they called it an early day so they could get some rest before seeking out Sampson. He quickly headed back to Darktown wanting to squeeze in any patients he could before Hawke came back to collect him.

His clinic had overflowed with patients and as dusk fell and the crowd thinned he knew he would need to grab a few lyrium potions before Hawke arrived. He turned off his lamps and escorted his last patient from the clinic. Rubbing his temple with a long sigh he trudged to his small room in the back of the clinic. 

Quickly, he unlocked his desk pulling open the top drawer and reached into the small compartment he had cut into the wood weeks ago. A silver key slipped into his hand immediately sending Justice into gibbering with delight, the spirit adored the key and what it meant. 

Fighting to keep Justice under control he crossed the room, moving to another doorway mostly blocked by debris. He pulled a few pieces of wood out of his way to reveal the locked chest hidden within. The lid was heavy and thudded loudly against the wall behind it. Pulling out three flasks of lyrium he closed and relocked the chest hastily.

He made sure to put the key away before he drank the lyrium, otherwise he would forget. He settled himself on his cot, back resting against the wall and opened the first flask, drinking the liquid quickly. The icy burn as it went down a small prelude of what he knew was coming. The thoughts he associated with Justice became louder and shivers danced across his skin.

He downed the second and the third, just wanting to get it over with. His body throbbed, Justice reveling in the lyrium running through their veins, feeling something very akin to sexual pleasure. Anders felt nothing but revulsion though. The struggle not to down every flask he had, the struggle not to get lost in a lyrium fueled haze harder each time he drank the vile liquid. Justice’s obsession with the ore and its song placed Anders on a razor’s edge struggling not to fall over the line into addiction.

He’d seen both Templars and mages lost to lyrium addiction and did not want to end up like them, vacant and in agony with the constant craving. He knew Justice did not mean to put such strain on him. And with the chest locked and hidden away Justice never really thought about it. Their first foray into using lyrium had been awful. Nothing but the lyrium and madness for days until both the coin and the lyrium ran out. And coming down had been an unspeakable torment.

Quiet and still, he sat taking long slow breaths struggling to keep his control while Justice reveled. His face was covered in sweat, but his skin felt cool when he brushed the back of his hand across his forehead to mop up the sweat. The cool skin was a testament to how close Justice was to taking control completely. His skin even shimmered pale blue in several places though it never actually cracked open.

Eventually, Justice quieted and Anders was able to relax. The magic was surging through him now, suffusing his whole body, not just rushing in his veins. He hoped it would be enough, he would not bring lyrium with them, the others would not understand. Feeling physically invigorated and mentally drained he stood and stretched walking back into the clinic to begin tidying up while he waited for Hawke.

When Hawke came to get him that evening she had Fenris and Bethany both in tow. He was less than thrilled about Fenris being there, but understood why Hawke had brought the elf with them. He tried to ignore Fenris knowing how much Hawke hated it when they argued and feeling too wrung out to argue besides. He was relieved when they found Sampson fairly easily. 

The former Templar complained about the order and how he was left with an addiction to lyrium he could never quite sate. Anders almost felt bad for him until the whining became an obvious request for Hawke to provide for his addiction. Hawke looked as disgusted as Anders felt; she tossed a few coins to the man who then told them about Feynriel. 

He was irritated by Sampson’s callousness; the former templar had sent the scared boy off to someone who had apparently decided they would rather make a profit selling the boy into slavery than to help a mage to freedom. Frustrated, he suppressed the urge to strangle the former Templar figuring that spending the rest of his life with an addiction he didn’t seem to have the will to beat, to a substance he clearly couldn’t afford would be punishment enough.

As a healer the idea repulsed him, but as a mage he felt vindicated. It was gratifying to know the Templars paid at least a small price for their treatment of mages. Justice must have agreed since he didn’t strike out at the man.

At least Sampson was able to point them in the direction of a warehouse where they might find the boy. So off they trekked to the docks and the warehouse. When they got to the warehouse they found men assaulting a mage woman. Her voice wavered as she asked for help, the poor girl sounded terrified. 

He cringed as the mage fell to the ground, body contorting as she became an abomination. If she had only been able to hold on a few moments longer, or if people weren’t taught it was alright to treat mages as less than people, perhaps they could have saved her. Instead, they ended up killing the abomination as well as her captors. 

He felt no remorse at all for the men as he saw their mutilated bodies lying lifeless around them. He was more than a little surprised to learn that the girl who had become an abomination was Ser Thrask’s daughter; she had a letter on her addressed to him. He wondered if the girl’s mother had been a mage and if so, had she been with this Thrask willingly. 

He shoved the thoughts out of his mind, best not to think about it. If he followed that thought Justice might have come through and headed off to the Gallows, not something any of them could afford. They still had a boy to find.

In one of the chests Hawke unlocked they found information that could lead them to Feynriel. It seemed he had possibly been taken to Darktown where a slaver awaited him. Hoping they weren’t too late they set off immediately, all of them worried that if they didn’t find the boy soon they never would.

Headed to Darktown to face a slaver, he was sure Fenris would be just thrilled about that. Tevinter was the only country that openly allowed slavery. By law they were not allowed to collect slaves from other countries, but they continued to do so. 

When they found the slaver Hawke seemed to share his sentiment in regards to Fenris being more than happy at the prospect of killing a Tevinter slaver. As they entered the dark room, they spotted roughly ten men, it was easy to see which one was in charge. He strolled up to them casually, all cocksure that he would be adding the four newcomers to their cadre of slaves to sell to Tevinter.

Hawke didn’t even bother talking to the man. She turned to Fenris, a wicked smile on her purple painted lips. “Make him talk.”

A charming smile graced Fenris’ lips, his eyes sparkled with pleasure. _“He’s actually quite beautiful if you can get past him being a complete ass.”_ He thought briefly as he had a dozen times before. And the thought was immediately obliterated when Fenris’ tattoos lit up, making Anders’ own skin pebble as the makeshift magic prickled in the air around the elf. Justice ‘woke’ briefly from what Anders called his post lyrium stupor, just long enough to see the source of the lyrium tinged magic, touching Anders’ thoughts with his own before slipping away again. 

Fenris calmly reached into the slavers’ chest and gripped his heart. The slaver choked, sheer terror on his face before he collapsed as Fenris released him. The slaver was suddenly more than happy to tell them where he was keeping Feynriel in the hope that Hawke would let him live. Of course, Hawke didn’t let him live, they killed all of the slavers before they left. Which was fine with him, slavery, in any form was repugnant to him.

As they headed out of the corpse strewn room Hawke turned to him “Get your stuff together, meet us at Uncle Gamlen’s in about an hour, Anders.”

He nodded and headed off to get his tent and some supplies for the trip out to the coast. If they were leaving the city Fenris wouldn’t be going with them. Hawke was very careful not to have both him and the elf with her for extended periods of time, she couldn’t stand their bickering. He would have to remember to grab some more parchment from his desk before he met her.

********

Bethany was sitting on the steps waiting for Sekhmet to return and for Anders to show up. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about everything Anders had told her regarding him, fate and Sekhmet. She ranged back and forth over a myriad of thoughts about it as she waited. 

Anders wasn’t the type to lie, and he really seemed to believe it. But why would the Maker go out of his way to make Anders’ life so difficult. Though, hadn’t Sekhmet’s life been singularly difficult? And what had her sister ever done to deserve all the garbage that was heaped on her? Perhaps the Maker’s absence was proof enough that such things could happen.

Or maybe Flemeth had more than a passing say in the whole affair. Flemeth was supposed to be a legend, but she was real so what was to say she couldn’t speak in Anders’ mind? Did the witch have the power to bring her sister and Anders together? If it _had_ been her, what was the purpose? What could she hope to gain by putting the two of them together?

And if she had, would it be a good thing or something terrible to continue pushing them together? She took a deep breath and exhaled with frustration. She wasn’t even sure it mattered anymore. Sekhmet had been quiet and withdrawn since she had learned about Isabela and Anders. The pirate queen seemed to delight in telling her sister all sorts of things to wind the elder Hawke up.

Last night, they had been visiting with Varric, just talking and enjoying the company when Isabela had sauntered into the room with a smile. She had settled down next to Sekhmet and drew circles on the table with her finger. Her feigned causal air fooled none of them.

“If you’re here to cause trouble Rivani get lost.” Varric scowled at her, all too aware of how much Isabela was enjoying Sekhmet’s torment.

“No trouble, just had a question for our fearless leader.” She smiled again and Sekhmet looked at her, dread already writ across her features. “So, Hawke, have you ever been with a man as tall as Anders?”

Her sister scowled but didn’t reply.

“No? Well, I think you would enjoy it. Anders is very…” her smile cranked up again, “well proportioned.”

“How fabulous for you then.” It was said softly, no anger, not like the last few times Isabela had come to torment her.

Isabela’s smile faltered a little, but she pressed on. “Yes, quite wonderful.”

Her sister had pushed to her feet nodding to Varric, “See you later; I’m going to call it an early night. You’ll make sure Beth gets home safe?”

Varric had been scowling at Isabela before he turned his attention to Sekhmet. “Not a problem.”

Bethany had wanted to set Isabela’s hair on fire. “No, need Varric. I’m going to get headed out as well.”

Her sister hadn’t responded, had just strapped her daggers back on and left the tavern in quick strides. 

Isabela’s voice followed them, sulking “Well, that wasn’t any fun. Entertain me Varric.”

“Take a hike, Rivani. No one wants to see you today.” His voice was frosty. Not a tone Bethany heard him use often. 

Beth had glanced back to see Varric pushing Isabela out of the room and slamming the door in her face. She’d felt quite satisfied at seeing it, but when she tried to tell Sekhmet her sister didn’t seem interested. Of course, Sekhmet hadn’t seemed interested in much of anything lately.

She took jobs because they needed the coin; she even took Anders because they needed a healer. She flirted, but it was half hearted. Beth’s sister was hurting and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t even trust her healing skills enough yet to give Sekhmet a break from Anders. 

“Enough boy, give it a rest.” 

Bethany stood up at the sound of her sister’s voice and watched as Tyr nuzzled her hand before moving behind her and nudging her, trying to get her to pick up the pace. He bounded around her again before huffing and falling into step beside Sekhmet. She flashed Beth a smile surprising the younger Hawke at just how well she could fake her good mood.

“I think he’s anxious to get out of the city. It’s been a while since he was able to run free.” Sekhmet stopped at the base of the stairs and Tyr plopped down to sit at her feet. “Anders isn’t here yet?”

“Not yet, he should be here any time now. We should take someone else with us too.” Bethany didn’t argue with Sekhmet often, but her sister hadn’t been exactly thinking clearly the last few days.

“We’ll be fine, besides we’ll move faster with just the three of us. Anders is the only one who can keep up with the two of us for any amount of time.” Another half hearted smile touched her lips.

“Am I late?” Anders’ eyes roved over the two of them then cast casually about before he slowed his steps, a look of apprehension curtaining his features briefly before slipping away. Apparently, he was as uneasy as Bethany was about the three of them trekking out of the city together.

Her sister’s lips curved into a stiff smile but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Not at all, you’re right on time, beautiful. Ready to head out?”

“Just us then?” His voice was quieter and he glanced to Bethany as if looking for help.

Bethany nodded in answer before swinging her pack onto her shoulder; this trip was going to be a long one. She headed out, not waiting to see if they followed her. 

********

He tried not to watch as Hawke thrust her arm out to the side with an angry yell, embedding her dagger in the slaver’s throat. She twisted and yanked the dagger back out watching as the man clutched his throat and crumbled to the ground. Her eyes scanned the room and when her eyes met his she gave him a little smile.

He was worried about her. “Aren’t you tired, Hawke?” She was the only one wielding a blade and he knew he would have been. Tyr was great, but he still wished they had brought someone else along.

She nodded, her smile cracking wider and her eyes twinkling a little, the first real smile he’d seen from her in a few days. “Exhausted.”

“We should have brought someone else along.” Bethany’s voice was quietly admonishing.

Hawke shook her head, “Not on your life. Who would you suggest, and don’t say Merrill. I want to smack her half the time.” 

Bethany shrugged, “I don’t know, Varric or Isabela probably.”

“I couldn’t find Varric.” She replied tersely.

“And Isabela?” Bethany asked carefully.

Hawke just glared at her sister.

“Am I missing something girls?” Something was obviously going on between the two of them.

Bethany sighed tiredly, “It’s nothing, she and Isabela aren’t exactly getting along right now.”

“Why?” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it. And it was a stupid question really, he knew why. 

“Are you kidding me?” All humor was gone from Hawke’s face.

And he almost missed Bethany’s quiet statement, “Because of you.”

He groaned, he really didn’t want to think about it. He had found it funny at the time when he and Isabela realized where they knew each other from. Honestly, what were the chances that they would meet in a brothel in Ferelden and then end up running into each other more than a year later in a different country?

Since then though, the whole thing had become a bit of a nightmare. Isabela was constantly flirting with him and he was sure it was more to irritate Hawke than any interest she might have had in him. The two of them weren’t even interested in each other when they had been at the brothel in Denerim. 

She had just happened to be at the Pearl when he stopped for some entertainment while on the run from the Templars. Honestly, the little stop had probably been why he had been caught less than a week later near Amaranthine. And here he was more than a year later and he was still paying for it. No wonder Justice all but kept his cock under glass. 

Hawke snapped at Bethany. “It’s not because of Anders, Beth. It’s because she doesn’t know when to shut that fat mouth of hers.”

Her sister nodded a little, “Alright. Fine. Sorry.”

He turned to Hawke waiting for her to explode again, but she just took a deep breath and headed towards a doorway hewn in the rough rock ahead of them. He suppressed the very ill advised urge to smile. A few years ago he would have been crowing over Hawke’s jealousy. Even now, vowed to the single life he couldn’t help but feel a little exhilarated at the idea. He just hoped she got over it quickly. As much as he hated to admit it, they needed Isabela.

Normally, he wouldn’t waste his time with explanations; he didn’t owe them to anyone. He was an adult and his life was his own, but this was a special circumstance. “In all fairness, pretty much everyone at the Pearl that night saw me naked. I was…very drunk.” He didn’t usually go to brothels looking for sex; he looked for good spirits and a chance to show off, which was exactly what he had done that night. In the Circle his little electricity trick was old hat, but in the brothel they thought he was amazing.

Hawke shook her head, “No, doesn’t really help.” She turned striding away from them quickly.

He walked a little faster to catch up to her; he scowled not sure why he felt like he had to explain himself to Hawke. “Listen, nothing happened.” He spoke softly.

Hawke turned to him incredulously. “You want me to believe you were naked in a whorehouse with Isabela… _Isabela_ … and nothing happened?”

Slow, deep breath, “I may have shown her a few little tricks, but even in Ferelden she had a reputation and that’s saying something in a brothel.”

Hawke seethed at him. “So you what, pranced around naked playing with electricity and then just got dressed and left?”

He shook his head, he was getting annoyed now. “You know what? I don’t owe you an explanation, I was trying to help.”

“Lying doesn’t help me.” She spat before turning and starting away from him again.

He grabbed her upper arm, suddenly furious, and turned her back to face him, “I’m not lying. I never had sex, of any kind, with Isabela. Other than that, my life is my own.” And even in his anger all he could think was _“Just a kiss, just let me kiss her Justice, just a single kiss.”_ If he could just kiss her, she would know that Isabela was nothing, not worth her time to fret over. He knew Justice wouldn’t budge but it didn’t make him want it any less. His desire for her did nothing to dampen his anger at her calling him a liar though. 

The two of them stood there glaring at each other for a minute until Bethany cleared her throat. “Uh, we should probably get going. Who knows what kind of shape Feynriel is in?”

Hawke jerked her arm free from Anders’ grip and spun on her heel walking away from him.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, he had never met a woman who could get under his skin like Hawke. They agreed on almost everything, yet she still managed to rile him. Watching her walk stiffly ahead of him he pushed the anger aside and became worried about what she was going to do with Feynriel. He wasn’t worried about her hurting the boy but her patience was wearing thin. “Hawke, what are you planning on doing with this boy once we find him?” 

“Once we find him? You mean if we find him. We’ve been running all over the city and now we’re in a cave.” Hawke grumbled.

“We’ll find him.” Bethany snapped.

Hawke gave her sister a small nod, “Right, sorry.” 

It always surprised him how much sway Bethany seemed to hold over Hawke. And he was grateful for it. No matter where her passions carried her Bethany could always bring her back with just a few words or a soft touch. Hawke often joked that Bethany made her seem not so rough around the edges, and that without her sister she wasn’t fit for polite company.

Hawke continued. “It depends on what he has planned and of course whether or not he has become an abomination. If he attacks there’s not really much we can do.” Suddenly, both she and Tyr stopped in their tracks, “Shh.” She canted her head towards the doorway in front of them. 

He heard muffled voices coming from the next room. Hawke gripped one of her recently re-sheathed daggers but didn’t free it and walked in, her huge dog right on her heels quiet but on high alert. He and Bethany followed from a short distance. As they entered the room they saw numerous men standing around, but for the moment they just watched the new comers encroaching on their cave. Not wanting to get caught unaware he started calling his magic up, gathering a chain lighting spell to his fingertips in case the need arose.

Hawke canted her head again then looked back and made eye contact with him briefly before glancing at two places behind him. He looked where she had indicated as he continued to follow her and realized she was telling him where the other mages were, expecting him to take care of them. Neither of them had been calling on their magic, how the void did she do that?

As they moved further into the room they heard a man’s voice come from above. “Take one more step and the boy dies.” Looking up they saw a slightly overweight man holding a sword to a scared boy’s throat. The boy couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He assumed it was the missing boy Feynriel as he had a slender face and slightly elvish looking features.

Hawke let go of her dagger and he felt nervousness prickle along his skin when she gripped a throwing knife on the back of her belt, even knowing how good she was with the knives. “One more regular step? How about if I take a baby step? Or maybe I could take a side step? What exactly are the rules to this dance?”

The man scowled, “Quit playing games girl, you’ll get both the boy and yourself killed.”

Hawke smirked and Anders’ stomach knotted. Just leave it alone he wanted to scream at her, but even if he had she would have just ignored him.

“Just the two of us?” She nodded back towards him and Bethany, “What about them? If you kill me you’re going to have to kill them. How can you be sure they won’t come after you? Who knows…one of them might be my lover, or even family. Then you’d have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life wondering if they were coming for you.”

“Good grief woman, just shut up already.” The man’s gruff voice clearly tinged with annoyance now.

“Did you really just tell _me_ to shut up?” Without seeing her face Anders couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or amused.

“Yes, now sh…” The man’s words were cut off and he dropped his sword as he reached for the knife suddenly protruding from his neck.

“Just checking.” Her voice had a little lilt in it as Anders watched the knife slip from her fingers with barely a whisper and embed itself deep into the man’s throat causing a half gurgle, half scream to issue from him as he went down in a fountain of blood. 

Anders just shook his head, lightning already dancing from his fingertips as the other men in the cavern attacked them. The four of them, including Tyr, made short work of the remaining slavers. And he was just glad that as they fighting stopped no one had been injured, including the half elven boy they had been looking for.

The boy walked down the stairs cut into the rock face on shaky legs. His voice was shrill and he was clearly nervous as he spoke to Hawke. “He could have killed me.”

Hawke was glaring at the kid and he suddenly changed his tune. “I mean, thank you for…uh…saving me. You are here to save me right?”

Hawke smirked, “That was the plan.”

Feynriel looked a bit relieved but only for a moment. “Who are you? Did the Templars send you?”

“Your mother sent me.” Hawke answered.

The boy scowled, “So you’re going to drag me off to the Templars I suppose. I can’t believe her, she promised to protect me and now she’s delivering me into the hands of those…those…”

“Monsters?” Hawke helpfully supplied.

Feynriel fell silent for a moment. “Does that mean you do not intend to hand me over to the Templars?”

Her face softened as if she was just now realizing how scared the boy was. “I would not rescue you from these slavers just to turn you over to another set of slavers. I’m here to help you, Feynriel.”

“We’re all here to help you.” Bethany’s voice was soft and reassuring. Perhaps they should have let her speak to the boy from the outset. 

Feynriel was immediately suspicious, “Why? You don’t even know me.”

Hawke glanced at Bethany who gave her a slight nod, before speaking. “I’ve spent my whole life protecting my sister from exactly what you fear.”

Anders wanted to help the boy, but there were other things to consider besides just keeping him away from the Templars. “Your mother says demons have been speaking to you.”

The boy’s eyes cast downward as he scuffed at the dirt. “I don’t know for sure, but I think so. In my dreams they come to me and talk to me. They ask me to shape the Fade for them. I do not even know what they’re talking about.”

“Have they made you any promises? Have you accepted anything they might have offered, no matter how little?” They all needed to know, so Anders pushed a little more.

“No serrah, I have not accepted anything they offered. In truth, I am afraid of them.” His voice trembled a little.

“It’s alright to be afraid, especially if it kept you from making a mistake.” Hawke clapped the boy’s shoulder companionably.

“Would…is there any chance you’d help me reach the Dalish?” Feynriel looked cautiously hopeful. “That’s where I was trying to go. See if they would take me in. I’m as much Dalish as human.”

Was the boy nuts? The Dalish wouldn’t accept him, he might be half Dalish but as far as the Dalish were concerned the boy might as well have been just human. 

Hawke seemed to consider it though, “Life among the Dalish wouldn’t be easy.”

The boy smiled, likely guessing he was going to get his way. “Nothing much in my life has been.” 

Hawke looked to her sister for a long moment before turning back to Feyriel. “No, I suppose it hasn’t. If my friends have no objections we’ll escort you to Sundermount and I’ll speak to the Keeper on your behalf.”

The boy looked elated. “She doesn’t hate humans? Oh, you don’t know what a relief that is; I know if someone can help me it will be her. Thank the Creators you were the one my mother hired to find me. I will forever be in your debt.”

Hawke nodded, “Let’s not get overly sentimental. We should hole up here tonight and we can head up the mountain in the morning.

Anders smiled; glad the boy was getting a chance without going to the Circle. He wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to spend more time alone with the Hawke sisters but wanted to make sure the boy reached his destination safely. Thinking about the boy’s mother he felt a little pang of guilt that she would be stuck waiting another few days to hear news about her son. But overall he felt relieved, “So, once we’re done playing around on the mountain who’s going to tell Mother Dearest? By then she’ll be just dying to hear what happened.”

Hawke turned to him, “Just for that, Anders, you are.”


	14. It's In The Past

Sekhmet stood up and wiped her hands on a towel folded over her belt for just such purposes.  "How does that feel?"

"Much better, what is it?"  The older woman whose knee she had been working on looked visibly relieved.

Sekhmet smiled, "It's ginger root.  I simmered it until I could grind it into a paste.  Works wonders on joints.  I'll get you some of the dried root to take home.  I want you to drink some like tea every day, it should help."  She turned and walked to the back of the clinic where Anders had set up a table just for Sekhmet's supplies.  Taking a square of oilcloth she scraped the rest of the paste from her mortar onto it and tied it up tight before opening one of her glass canisters to put a handful of the dried root into a square of clean, dry cloth and folded it into a neat packet.  

The woman was sitting anxiously waiting and when Sekhmet reached her the woman shook her head.  "I thought it wouldn't hurt so much since its warmer here.  But living in the damp down here, it hurts worse."

Sekhmet nodded handing her the two little packets.  "This should help a bit.  Don't try to save the paste; it won't last so just use it as you need it.  Heating it near the fire before putting it on might help.  Add water if you need to, it won't hurt it any.   If it gets to be too much you come on back and I'll take care of you."  She settled on her knees in front of the woman, the swelling wasn't terribly bad but she was sure it still hurt.   "The damp can wreak havoc on joints.  Did you come to Kirkwall with family?"

"I did, my son and his wife."  She beamed, the thought of her family obviously a happy one.

She felt herself smile in return.  "And what does your son do?"

"He used to be a farmer, but there's no work for Ferelden farmers here.  He does whatever job he can."  The older woman's eyes flickered with something she saw all too often in Darktown, despair.

"I know it's not much, but if your son goes to the Bone pit and speaks to Jansen he'll give your son a job.  Tell him to give my name 'Sekhmet'."   She didn't care for Hubert, but thankfully the man was just a touch afraid of her and wouldn't object to her giving out a few jobs.

The woman's eyes narrowed.  "You work there?"

Just the thought of digging in those mines all day made her skin crawl.  "Not exactly.  I'm part owner."

The woman looked stunned, "Then for Maker's sake girl, what are you doing in a dark hole like this?"

She shook her head with a smile, calling Darktown a dark hole compared to a min, this woman was fantastic.  She gave the woman a sly smile, "Oh, I have my reasons."

The woman nodded sagely, her gaze sliding over to Anders as he bent over a patient eyes closed head canted to the side as if her were listening to his patient's body.  Who knew, perhaps he was.  "He is rather good looking, if a bit on the skinny side.  That man's as tall as a tree and you're a little slip of a thing.  You looking for him to shelter you from the storm, missy?"

She hadn't smiled this much in days, "No, I'm hoping he'll be the storm."

She almost jerked away in surprise when the older woman stroked her cheek.  "I remember the flames of young love, believe it or not."  She gave a heavy sigh suddenly then murmured softly, "It's a shame he's a mage."

Sekhmet chuckled wanting to lighten the woman's day little, "That's the real reason they lock them up you know.  The Templars want to keep them all to their selves because they're so good looking."

The woman cackled, and covered her mouth as several other patients turned to look at them.  Sekhmet smiled and started to turn away when the woman gripped her wrist slightly.  Her gaze intense and serious.  "You be careful young miss, he may be a healer but he's still a man.  A young woman like you should be careful."

Sekhmet raised a brow, grandmotherly concern?  That was novel.  "Would you be surprised to learn that I'm older than he is?"

The woman's eyes went wide, "I would be."

Her gaze wondered back to Anders, his warm eyes expressive as he spoke with his patient.  Lately, she had been feeling her age, had been feeling the gap between her and Anders more and more.  "I'm pretty sure I am."

She could feel the woman's gaze on her as she spoke.  "Still you should be careful all the same."

She turned back to her, catching the woman's pretty jade eyes.  "Yes ma'am, I will, thank you."

The woman stood up slowly, bending her knees experimentally and smiling before she picked up the tea and left the clinic, her strides long and sure.  Hopefully, an improvement over her arrival a few hours earlier.  She glanced around the clinic taking in the patients and their ailments deciding where to go next.

Anders, having finished with his patient came and stood at her side, "And just what were you girls giggling about."

She glanced up at him, reminding herself again that they could be friends.  "I was explaining to her the real reason that Templars lock mages up."

Anders quirked a brow, a look near to amusement on his face, "And what, pray tell, is that?"

Sekhmet grinned, "Why, ser mage, I would think you would know that better than I."  With that she turned and moved to her next patient, "Now get back to work," she chided over her shoulder.  The day seemed to pass quickly and she was grateful.  She was still a little tender but Beth had been right, as usual. 

She and Anders were not lovers, she didn't own him and he owed her no explanation about his life past or present.  Whatever had happened between him and Isabela was none of her business.  She could be childish and hide like he so often did, or she could help her fellow Fereldens.  After a few hours of goading by Bethany she had trudged down to Darktown to be greeted by Anders' thankful expression when she walked through the door.

His clinic had been more packed than usual.  Apparently, there had been an outbreak of some sort among the children.  If treated it wasn't serious but left too long without proper treatment it had proven fatal.  He'd pulled her aside quickly and given her a rundown of the symptoms he had seen.

Triage wasn't something Anders was particularly fond of; he wanted to help everyone immediately.  She'd ushered him to the back of the clinic with a few cots and admonished him to stay there.  She brought the children to him and took care of everything else with very few exceptions.  A few words with a few women had the word spread through Darktown of what to look for in their children and to try to wait to see the healer another day if possible for anything else.

The older woman with the pretty eyes was the last of the patients that had come in before Sekhmet had arrived.  Things had finally settled, she made another quick round of the parents who were milling about waiting for their children to be treated.  Once done she headed over to a man with a grimace on his face and what looked to be a piece of metal protruding from his boot.  She reached in her pocket and handed the man a few silvers before kneeling in front of him.

He gave her a queer look, "What's that for?"

She slipped a knife from her belt.  "To replace the boots.  I'm going to have to cut the boot off.  There won't be enough of it left to patch up."

"You're all bleeding hearts in here, eh?"  He cocked an eyebrow.

She shook her head, "No, and don't tell anyone where you got the money.  My sister would have my hide."

He chuckled, "I think I can keep a secret."

********

At the end of the day as Anders doused the lanterns she stood taking stock of what she had left and what things she needed to pick up.  "Anders," she called out.

"Yes?"

Sekhmet jumped a little and whirled around, she hadn't expected him to be so close; he had crossed the clinic silently.  She laughed with her hand pressed to her chest, "Maker, you startled me."

He gave her another amused look, "I see that.  I would have thought it would be harder than that to startle you."

She shrugged, "I guess I shouldn't have relaxed my guard."

"Guarding yourself against me?  And here I thought you said you weren't afraid of me." a  hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She studied him for a minute, "Anders, are you teasing me?"

He abruptly sobered, "No, what did you need?"

Sekhmet decided not to be annoyed at his sudden change of subject; she really wasn't in the mood for another argument.  "I was going to ask for something to write with and some parchment.  I need to make a list to take to the market."

He nodded and headed to his room at the back of the clinic.  She stood there surveying her worktable again and trying not to feel hopeful about Anders' teasing.  He returned a few moments later and handed her the parchment, quill and ink well.

"I should probably take a look at what I need too."  With that he went to his own work table and started rummaging through what was on top of it.

Her list only took a few moments to make and she crossed over to where Anders stood.  She climbed onto the end of the table, pulling up her leg she turned perpendicular to where Anders stood and set the parchment on the table with the ink well.  She bent forward, quill in hand.

"Alright, shoot."

He sounded tense, probably worried about another argument as well.  It seemed that was all they had managed to do for the last week or so.  They could barely say ten words to each other without it turning into a fight.  "I'll take care of it, Hawke."

Sekhmet scowled, they had to stop this nonsense.  "Don't be silly.  I'm already heading to the market tomorrow, might as well get everything."

Anders watched her for a moment then sighed, "Fine," He started giving her a list of the things he needed, the usual: flasks, elfroot, spindleweed, etc.  

Sekhmet scribbled away as he spoke, he paused, falling silent and after about thirty seconds of silence she looked up to find him watching her.  Suddenly, she felt self conscious, had she done something wrong again?  "What?"

He took her hand in his, his aversion to touching her momentarily forgotten, turning it over and tracing a finger over her fingertips.  "I just realized that you always have ink on your fingers."  He looked up catching her eyes, not releasing her hand.  "Why is that?"  His voice was almost fond.

She shrugged, "I'm not very neat I suppose."  Friendly, not hopeful, just friendly.

He turned her hand sideways and looked along her index finger.  A small surprised noise escaped him then he shook his head and touched his fingertip to an indentation.  "You only get this from writing a lot.  It's from where you grip the quill when you write.  So what is it you're writing?"

Was he playing some sort of game with her?  "Perhaps I'm writing letters to those I left behind in Ferelden."

Anders released her hand and turned back to his table pulling another canister forward and opening it.   "You told me that there was no one you left behind in Ferelden."  His voice had reverted to its usual casual tone.

She forced herself to relax, he was just curious.  "No, I suppose I didn't leave anyone back there.  It's a hobby of mine, that's all."

Anders closed the canister and slid it back into place before opening another.  "Do you write stories like Varric?"

Sekhmet laughed, "Nothing so fanciful.  I write in a journal about my day, things I've learned and seen."  She shrugged, "Boring stuff really."  A mischievous grin lit up her face, "Well except for the things I write about you, that's never boring."

Anders chuckled, "Well you know how to stroke a man's ego, that's for sure."

"Among other things."  Sekhmet retorted as she hopped down from the workbench.

He turned to her, "I don't think I'll ever get used to that about you."

She was fighting against getting angry again.  He expected her to just tell him whatever he wanted while he kept his own secrets.  "You're right, you never will if you don't try it."

He shook his head, "You're deflecting again."

"You're prying again.  I thought we weren't going to do that."  She inhaled through her nose, not going to fight.  Not today, she was too tired.

"I didn't ask about your past.  You never said I couldn't ask you about your present.  Is that off the books too?  If it is I'm afraid our conversations are going to be largely silent from here on out."  He was watching her again, was he trying to pick a fight or trying to joke with her?  Sometimes it was hard to tell.

It didn't matter, she knew one sure fire way to shut the man up.  He hated talking about Justice.  "Okay, what does it feel like when he takes over?"

Anders paused seeming to think for a long moment.  "It's like a shiver across my skin at first then it's like being wrapped in thick wool.  I can feel what's happening, that he's moving me, but it's distant."

She hadn't expected him to tell her, now she was curious.  "How do you feel?"

He shifted his weight clearly feeling a little uncomfortable, "It varies depending on the situation, but it's always anger at first."

Sekhmet nodded, astounded that he had been so honest and hadn't deflected.  She wasn't sure what he wanted exactly but it was nice to have him just be honest with her even though he was clearly uncomfortable.  "Thank you."

"So are you going to tell me what you really write about?"  He asked, working to sound casual.

"I did, except for the part about you.  I don't write about you or any of the others.  I figure Varric does enough of that for everyone."  She was surprised that they seemed to be having an actual conversation without fighting.

"I almost think I'm disappointed."  Anders graced her with a rare smile setting butterflies to flight in her belly.

Sekhmet smiled back, "You really have a beautiful smile, Anders.  I wish I saw it more."

Anders' smile faltered but didn't quite disappear.  "Who knows, maybe I'll have more reason to smile in the future."

"Promises, promises."  Testing the waters with a little light teasing.

"Not for  me, promises are dangerous."  He turned from her, "Come help me put out fresh linens for tomorrow."

A real smile from Anders was a rare enough occurrence that she didn't push it.  She just followed him and helped him with the fresh linens talking about neutral things like what their next job was and where it was going to be.  As often happened they came around to talking about books.

********

Anders was thrilled to have someone to speak with that enjoyed books as much as he did, none of their other companions seemed interested in such pursuits.  Varric was too busy writing and he wouldn't call the trash that Isabela read books.  They were so engrossed in the conversation that Sekhmet didn't seem to want to leave after they had finished changing the linen so he roped her into washing the day's soiled linens and hanging them up on the lines stretched across the clinic to dry.

When they finished the two of them sat on the edge of Anders' workbench.  The conversation had lapsed for a few minutes when Sekhmet leaned back on her hands and looked up at the ceiling looking at the crossbeams, her mind obviously seeing farther than her eyes could.  "What was it you were referring to earlier?"

Anders turned to look at her; he didn't want to fight again.  The day had been fairly pleasant.  "When?"

Sekhmet sat up straight again and looked at him, "When you said you didn't think you would ever get used to that about me, used to what exactly?"

Anders tipped his head back, gazing at the same beams she had been staring through a few moments ago.  "You'll be angry."

She shook her head, "You always think I'm going to be angry."

He knew better than to hold his tongue, the longer he was silent the worse it would end up being.  He'd been so relieved to see her this morning.  He'd been drowning in patients.  Might as well get the argument over and done with, maybe he could smooth things over enough that she would come back tomorrow.  "We'll be having a decent conversation, just getting to know each other and it's like you feel the need to sabotage it."  
   
She wasn't looking at him; her eyes seemed to be avoiding his.  "And just how do I do that?"

He looked at her with a raised brow, "By making everything about sex."

She gave a careless shrug.  "Maybe that's just who I am."

Anders closed his eyes, "I almost wish I could believe that."

"Almost?"

Anders opened his eyes, "Don't push me, we had a good day, enjoyed each other's company.  Let's not ruin it with an argument."

There was a long silence before she spoke again, her voice quiet and almost timid.  "Anders?"

Walking on eggshells?  That wasn't a good sign.  "Yes?"

"About Isabela,"

He groaned, "Let's not do this again, please."

"I…I wanted to apologize.  If you say nothing happened, I believe you."  She was almost whispering now.

He was oddly touched by the apology.  "Thank you."

"I'm curious about you and…people."  She fidgeted next to him.

"People?"  Oh boy, where was this going?

"Yeah, I mean you're an attractive sort of man.  I was pretty sure that you and…and Karl…but" She blushed and it was terribly cute.

"Only sort of a man?  Ouch.  Well, I'll have to work on that."  He shouldn't be teasing but it felt good to relax with her.

"No, I.." she blushed even deeper.  All that pale white skin of hers couldn't hide it.

He decided to bail her out a little.  "I'm not a virgin if that's what you're asking.  I've had a lover…or two."  He felt a smile trying to pull free but held it in.

She seemed to relax a bit, "Male or female?"

He looked at her a long moment.  He had seen her checking out Isabela when they first met, he was sure of it.  And she knew Isabela's tastes, and though she and Isabela fought it  was over him rather than the types of lovers Izzy took.  It should be fairly harmless to be honest.  "Both."

She nodded and didn't say anything for a long time and he wondered if perhaps he had been wrong.  She turned away from him, staring at the wall.  He slid off the table, sensing he had hurt her again and wanting somehow to fix it.  He moved in front of her, hands resting on the table on either side of her.

"Will you look at me please?"  He kept his voice soft.

A wry smile tugged at her lips even as she closed her eyes, "You really like seeing what a mess I am don't you?"

He turned her face so he could see her, so she could see him.  Justice growled at the touch but Anders snarled back.  They needed to find a footing here, somewhere they could start from instead of running around and around in circles between want and fighting.  Her eyes slowly opened, sweet Maker she had beautiful eyes.

"A few months ago, when I met you I was angry that Justice was a wall between us.  You're an incredibly beautiful woman and I wanted you."  She tried to jerk her face away but he moved closer and held her still.  "He's given me a gift I would have missed otherwise though.  I'm not known for sticking around after I get what I want."

"Anders, you don't have to give me some story.  I'm a big girl."  She flicked her gaze away from him, but he moved so she had to look at him.

"I'll never take another lover, Hawke.  Never.  That's forbidden to me.  But there is a connection between us, a strong one.  Can't we enjoy that?  Can't we enjoy what could be an incredible friendship?"  He paused and gave her another smile, a real one.  "Friends are very rare and I treasure them greatly."

She gave him a little smile then closed her eyes and leaned forward resting her forehead on his.  "Friends then."

He kissed her forehead gently.  A small agony he willingly suffered.  He needed her in his life and he needed the fighting between them to stop, it burned in him like acid each time they quarreled.  Maybe now that she understood that while he may never take her as his lover he would never take another either it would ease things between them a bit.  He stood up and rested his hand on the table on either side of her again, loathe to move away.  He liked the closeness, the intimacy of being so near to her.

Being this close to her he could feel the heat of her through his clothes.  Her breath stirred upon his cheek and he inhaled it deeply.  Her eyes, that clear crystalline blue that reminded him of diamonds, suddenly became guarded turning away from his gaze.

How would Justice react if he just threw all caution to the wind?  How would Justice react if he took a step forward, pulled her body into his and tasted those purple painted lips?  Could Justice possibly appreciate the feel of a woman pressed against them, or the excitement of a first kiss?   _"You told me many times how you longed to hold Aura, let me hold Hawke, see what it feels like to finally hold a woman in our arms."_   There was no actual response from Justice, nor did he expect one, but he did feel a quick flash of annoyance.  

His eyes fixed to the pulse fluttering in her neck.  He watched it speed up and his mouth went dry.  His tongue flicked out to lick his dry lips.  The smell of her was everywhere, and it was a scent for which he had no name just that it was something wild, almost feral.  
   
"Anders?" her voice was soft and unsure.

His fingers sought hers out again, "Mmm?"  He traced his finger over the ink stained skin.

She looked back to him with a smile.  "Giving up on being friends already?"

Her words pulled him out of the fog.  He quit touching her and took a half step backwards.  "No, sorry."

She reached up towards his face then dropped her hand back down.  "Why do you look so sad?"

He looked at her for a long time, not sure he should tell her.  Eventually, he realized there was no time like the present to put the idea of being friends into practice.  He tried to give her a smile but it didn't quite work.  "Justice doesn't like to touch people, I just miss it sometimes."  He gave a dark little chuckle.  "Ever heard of a healer who couldn't touch his patients?"

She was watching him closely now, those diamond eyes taking in every detail.  "You don't really need to touch people to heal them."

He sighed softly and moved to lean against the table next to her.  "No, I suppose I don't.  It's just odd for me to heal that way."

"So, you were a 'hands on' kind of guy before Justice?"  It was asked lightly with real curiosity.

"I was used to using all of my senses when diagnosing and treating patients.  He's even dampened the emotions I'm used to experiencing when I heal.  I feel a bit crippled at times now."  It was an understatement, he felt like a child playing at being a healer, only half an idea of what to do.

"Yet you're still the best healer I've ever known."  Her eyes stayed steady as she spoke, and he found himself relieved that she wasn't just saying it, she honestly believed it.

"There you go, stroking my ego again."  He did actually feel a little better.

"Seemed like you could use a little stroking."  Her grin was mischievous, but it was just mild flirtation, no different than a flirt she would use on Fenris or Varric.

"Yes, suppose I did."  He relaxed a bit.

Her smile widened a little, "So, do you want to me to tell you the real reason the Templars lock mages up?"

He'd almost forgotten about that, "Do I want to know?"

She just shrugged.

"Alright, go ahead, I can see you're dying to tell me."

She giggled, "Because mages are so good looking, Templars want to keep them for themselves."

He almost laughed then he was a bit horrified, "You told that old women that mages are locked up because they're pretty?"

"Yeah, right after she told me how pretty you were." 

Anders rolled his eyes, "Oh, for Maker's sake."

"If it makes you feel any better she did warn me to be careful with you.  You may be a healer, but you're still a man, and I shouldn't be down here alone tempting you."  She giggled again.

"She makes me sound like some old lecher.  And you didn't even tell her otherwise did you?"  He gave her a mock annoyed look.

"Next time I'll tell her you're a eunuch."

Anders sighed loudly, before hopping up on the table next to her again.  "Why do I even bother?"

They sat in companionable silence for a while after that, just comfortable with each other's company.  It had been a long day and they were both tired but Hawke didn't seem ready to leave yet and he was enjoying her company. 

They both jumped when there was a banging on the clinic door.  Anders hopped off the table and crossed the clinic quickly, pulling open the door.  "Bethany?"

She looked annoyed and her voice was terse.  "I came looking for Sekhmet, is she here?"

Anders nodded and let her in.

"Mother has been worried.  It's been dark for hours."  Bethany fumed.

Hawke didn't seem overly worried.  "Does she know you came down here after me?"

"She knows I'm looking for you.  I didn't tell her you were probably here.  What were you two doing so late?"  Bethany scowled as she looked between them.

"Just talking about books."  He was surprised himself when the words came out in a rush.  
   
Hawke gave him an odd look.  He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt nervous.  It wasn't as if they had been doing anything wrong.  Or even anything at all for that matter, what was he so worried about, all they had been doing was talking.  It hadn't even really been racy.  He bit his lip and shrugged; Hawke just smiled and stretched a bit.

Bethany smiled a little, "Does that mean you're ready to go?"

Hawke nodded, "Of course."  She hopped off the table and grabbed the list on her way towards the clinic door.  "See you tomorrow, Anders."

He followed them to the doors and locked them as they left.

********

Bethany waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs.  "So, how was it?"

Sekhmet shrugged, "We're not fighting anymore."

Bethany snorted, "Obviously, and that's not what I was asking."

Her sister stopped, "Just what do you think happened?"

Her sister never talked to her about her lovers, like she was still some kind of child.  She'd given up her designs on Anders but she was still curious.  She used to dream about those soft looking lips of his.  "Well, something must have happened.  It's not just late, it's really late and he was clearly nervous about telling me what it was you two were doing.  So was he any good?"

Her sister laughed, "Did you really just ask me if Anders was any good in bed?"

"What?  I can't be curious about your bedmates? I'm not a child anymore, Sekhmet, you don't have to keep treating me like one."

"No, I suppose if the first thing you think when you see Anders acting uneasy is that we had become lovers that I can't really treat you like a child anymore."  She reached up and pushed Bethany hair back from her face.  "I suppose I didn't want to see that you were growing up.  I must be as bad as mother."

Bethany smiled; she appreciated her sister trying to watch out for her even if it was sometimes misguided.  "Actually, you're worse.  Mother never threatened to kill a man if he touched me." 

Sekhmet laughed heartily, "No, I guess she didn't."  She nodded ahead and started walking again, "Come on, let's get back to Gamlen's I'm tired."

"I'm sure you are."  She strode beside Sekhmet easily keeping pace with her sister's shorter strides.

"Unfortunately, that isn't why I'm tired.  I didn't get so much as a kiss from our dashing apostate."  She gave a dramatic sigh.

At least her sister was in a better mood than when she had headed off to Anders' clinic today.  "Gave you the 'bad idea' speech again did he?"

"He tried a new tact this time.  It just might work, I haven't decided yet."  Her smile was fond though.

That was odd, no progress but she was still in a good mood?  The man wasn't kidding when he said he was charming.  "So what could he have said to turn you down, again, and still left you smiling."

Sekhmet gave her a little pout, "Just had to point that out didn't you?"

"Is it strange for you that he turned you down?  I mean we both know…" she trailed off; they never spoke about Sekhmet's life in Lothering.  Bethany had never even admitted that she knew about it before.

Sekhmet's steps slowed a little.  "We both know what?"

She didn't want to talk about it.  She didn't want to hurt or embarrass her sister and she definitely didn't want to fight with her.  Problem was she was a terrible liar.  "We both know you're not used to anyone turning you down for anything.  Are you going to tell me how he told you no but still managed to get you to leave with a smile?"

Sekhmet laughed before jogging up the stairs into Lowtown.  "He said he was glad that Justice had stopped us from being lovers because we were able to become friends.  From the way he talked he was the 'love them and leave them' type before Justice.  Apparently, Justice doesn't like to be touched."

Bethany furrowed her brow, "But he touches you all the time."

Her steps slowed again.  "I know, and he had been touching me only moments before he said it, but he looked so sad like he had lost something cherished that I believe him."

"So is that it, you're going to give him up or what?"  She had no idea what she would do in her sister's place.  Her sister really cared for Anders, but if he really didn't want to be touched at all maybe it would be easier for both of them if they stopped spending time with each other altogether.  

Then again, maybe there was a way to separate Anders and Justice.  Some way that her sister could be with Anders without worrying about what Justice did or didn't like, without worrying that Justice might hurt her.  Maybe she could talk to Merrill, she seemed to know a lot of magic that Bethany didn't.  Her stomach did a little flip.  She would find a way for them to be together.  

"I'm not sure; perhaps I just have to find a way to win Justice over.  I'll have to figure out a way to win them both over.  Or maybe Anders is right.  Maybe we're better off just being friends."  Sekhmet shrugged.  "I just don't know."  
   
So all was right with the world again, Sekhmet and Anders were back to enjoying each other's company.  She and the others could get a little free time again while Sekhmet helped Anders in the clinic.  Even mother seemed to be doing better.  So, why was she hearing Carver's voice telling her trouble was coming?

She rubbed her forehead, her dead brother's voice giving her a headache.  "Do you ever think about Carver?"

Sekhmet stopped and turned to look at her, her face showed no emotion at all now.  "Often."

"Me too, sometimes I think I can hear him talking to me."  Suddenly, she was feeling self-conscious which was ridiculous.  Her sister would never ridicule her for such a statement.

Sekhmet chuckled a little, "I hear him too.  Sometimes, he's telling me that everything is about to fall apart.  Or warning me that I'm being too trusting and I'll pay for it one day.  Mostly he's angry with me for putting you in danger all the time."

Bethany felt a little bloom of warmth spread through her.  She and Carver had always been very close.  He'd only been a few minutes older, but he had always taken being her older brother very seriously.  He really would have been furious with Sekhmet for taking Bethany along with her on dangerous jobs.  "He'd have locked me in our room before he let me run off gallivanting with you."

"And rightfully so," Sekhmet's smile slowly unraveled and her eyes seemed unfocused, "it would be hard to find a worse person to follow than me."  Her eyes focused again and she reached out to touch the dagger on Bethany's belt, the one she had bought for her sister.  She looked up into Beth's eyes, "He makes a much better example than me.  Be yourself Beth, always, but if you're looking for guidance Carver was a good man."  She turned on her heel and headed for Gamlen's.

Beth stood still for a minute watching her sister walking away.  Most of her memories of Carver were good ones, but her sister wasn't so fortunate.  Sekhmet and Carver had fought for most of their lives.  Carver resented Sekhmet's relationship with their father.  Most of the time Sekhmet couldn't be bothered to spend any real time with either Carver or Bethany, she was always too busy doing something else.

Even Poppa was at fault, Sekhmet was almost never punished.  Poppa afforded her a freedom that even shocked Mother at times.  When Mother questioned him Poppa would just smile and tell her that Sekhmet was different and trying to control her too much would just make things worse for everyone.  Poppa called her their "wildling".

Bethany started walking towards Gamlen's.  Wherever her brother was now she hoped he was with Poppa and that the two of them were happy.  Perhaps, time alone together would be enough for them to forge the type of bond that Carver had always hoped for.  She blinked away a tear and brushed it from her cheek.  She said a quick prayer for them both, hoping the both realized how much she loved them.  She often wondered if Carver could forgive them for not being able to save them.  She didn't want to think about it tonight though.  So, as she reached the top of the stairs at Gamlen's she smiled, thankful to still have her mother and sister with her and for all her new friends.


	15. Tongue Tripping

Bethany woke to the sound of Sekhmet crying again. She knew better that to wake her sister up. Her nightmares were something that no one in the family spoke of, Sekhmet became irate and stomped off whenever Bethany had tried. On the far side of the room their mother was curled up on her side facing the wall in her own small bed.

Dropping her feet to the floor she scratched Tyr behind the ears before standing and stretching. Pulling some clothes from the chest at the foot of her bed she quickly dressed and combed out her hair. In silence she placed more logs on the fire so she could see to apply her make-up before meeting the world.

Another few logs on the fire in the common room and she was out the door to let Tyr stretch his legs for a bit and take care of nature’s call. The sun was just below the horizon, invisible but a dim light was starting to spread across the sky. Kirkwall was silent, the sounds of daylight not yet started and the sounds of the night having already faded away.

Peaceful was the only way to describe it. In these few hours before day really took hold she could forget she was an apostate, could forget the almost constant fear she lived with. In these hours she didn’t have to be the dutiful daughter or the reasonable sister. She wasn’t the sweet innocent girl that so many chose to see. 

In the dim light of pre-dawn, in the place that was neither light nor dark, neither night nor day she felt home. At this hour, the day was full of promise, it could be anything. Sometimes in these hours she thought about her life as a child, before her magic had manifested. When she was small her future had been full of possibility. Every week she had wanted to be something else, everything from a princess to a farmer.

Once they realized she had magic though, there had only been two things she had wanted. She wanted to be normal, grow up and have a normal family in a normal home with normal children. And short of that she wanted to be like her sister, fearless and always laughing. It hadn’t been until after they had been in Kirkwall for several weeks that she realized the hidden price her sister paid for being so fearless, for always having a smile on her face. 

She didn’t want to think about her sister this morning though. She didn’t want to think about Anders either. The man was a mage who had a chance not be alone for the rest of his life, had a chance to be with someone who already knew who and what he was and didn’t care and he was throwing it away. Didn’t he realize how lucky he was?

“Idiot” she grumbled. She looked around and saw Tyr loping back towards her. “Come on, let’s get home boy.” She wanted to get breakfast started; the small things like making meals relaxed her. Making breakfast for her uncle, mother and sister was likely the closest she would ever get to having a home of her own and a family of her own to take care of. 

Sometimes she wondered what was supposed to be so great about avoiding the Circle. Would she feel this lonely in the Circle? Anders hated the Circle but had he really given it a fair chance? He hadn’t had to grow up as the only mage child. He hadn’t had to worry about every spell he had cast for his entire life, wondering if this was the one that caught someone’s attention and led to being taken away or worse. He hadn’t had to worry about making a mistake and exposing his father as a mage. From where she was standing, he seemed to be the lucky one.

She couldn’t understand how much Anders seemed to hate the Circle. Other than the principle of being forced to stay he didn’t give any specifics. Was his zealous disapproval just from Justice? Had Karl been what made him so vehement? Their rebel mage always became a bit cagey when pressed for details about the Circle or his stay there.

Anders was the only Circle mage she knew. Her father had already been out of the Circle for years by time she had been born and he didn’t like to talk about it much. All he really said was that mages in the Circle weren’t treated like people and so he chose to leave.

She pulled open the door and walked quietly inside, Tyr at her heels. Her mother was awake now, her hair combed and loose, her eyes were tired looking. She gave Beth a small smile. 

“I tried to be quiet, I didn’t wake you did I?”

Her mother shook her head, “Your sister’s had a bad dream is all.”

Beth looked at the door to the room the three women shared, it was still closed tightly. “Is she awake?”

Her mother rubbed her eyes, “Yes, she’s getting into her armor. She’s planning on bringing your healer friend here for breakfast. Says she wants him well fed before you guys head out to the coast.”

“The coast?” This was the first she had heard about heading out of the city today.

“A message came for her last night; I gave it to her when she woke up. It seems to be another job.” She gave Bethany a shaky smile, “I suppose that means I won’t see you two for a few days.”

“We need the money, Mother.” 

“I know, I just worry.” She stood, “I’ll help you with breakfast, unless you think you should go with Sekhmet to fetch the mage?”

“No, she doesn’t need me tagging along. She can take Tyr. So what shall we make?” For once they actually had a few choices. She had relieved her uncle of the shopping duties. 

He inevitably bought whatever was the cheapest, usually oats, and then blew what was left at the brothel. He’d been indignant about it. Obviously, he didn’t have enough coin himself to spend at the Blooming Rose.

“Anything but boiled oats.” Her mother quipped and they both laughed. 

********

“So you have no idea who the letter was from, but you’re planning on running off to meet them anyway? What if it’s a trap?” Anders was scowling at her again.

Things had started off well enough, he had been all smiles when he opened the door and saw her. “I was hoping to see you today.”

Was it just her or did he seem younger today? “It’s nice to be missed. Or did you just have more washing you needed help with?" 

“There’s always more washing, but I wanted to talk to you about some ideas I had for the clinic.” He definitely was in a good mood, he even scratched behind Tyr’s ears briefly.

“I was hoping to tear you away from the clinic for a while.” She thought they could both use a break after the last week. Whatever had been affecting the children of Darktown seemed to have run its course. An entire outbreak quelled by one mage healer. The man really was amazing.

“Back to work then?” He slipped into the small room at the back of the clinic, not bothering to shut the door and pulled out a pair of leather trousers sliding them on easily over the linen pair he had answered the door in. 

She moved to lean in the frame and watched him. His hands pulled the leather up his long legs and slid them over his hips. He pulled the laces tight then held them up while he tied a piece of rope around his waist and rolled the top of the trousers over it. “Why not get them fitted?”

He jumped as if not expecting her to be so close. “Oh, they’re fine.” He gave her a small sheepish smile, “They fit me like a glove once.”

“In that case, you should start eating better. Come, I was going to invite you to breakfast anyways.” Her mind tried picturing Anders filling out those leather trousers. He was good looking now, but if the shape of those trousers was any indication the man positively smoldered at his best. 

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” He looked away from her tugging his boots on.  
“Do what?” she shifted her gaze away from him so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

“Lick your lips like I’m some tasty treat.” He sounded terse and exasperated.

She almost laughed at that, it made her think all kinds of dirty thoughts. Tasty indeed! “Sorry, and if it makes you feel any better, I was thinking about what you looked like when you filled those trousers out.” She gave him another smile.

“What did you want me for today, Hawke?” His smile was gone, his tone was irritable and things had only gone downhill from there.

He had eventually begrudgingly agreed to breakfast. It had been a long and silent meal. And now, as they headed out of the city Anders was being morose. His good humor from earlier completely gone, and the younger boyish air scrubbed away. Sekhmet rubbed her head, and kept walking not bothering to respond. She’d already answered his question twice. 

He was angry at her and was trying to pick a fight with her, but she’d had enough fights with him to last a lifetime. As she trudged on she waited for him to push the issue. Instead, blessedly, he fell silent. Maybe he had realized she wasn’t willing to give him the argument he was looking for, at least not today.

As they rounded a bend she felt a knot form in her stomach. Ahead was a man in Templar uniform. Bethany’s footsteps behind her slowed and she actually felt Anders tense up. She stopped and turned around, “Maybe Anders and Beth should wait here till we see what he wants.”

“Is that Thrask?” Bethany squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun. “He has the same red hair, I’m pretty sure that’s Thrask, sis.”

“Thrask or not I think your sister’s right; at least hang back until we make sure it’s not a trap, Sunshine.” Varric’s smile was quick and easy.

Sekhmet was grateful for him; he’d tried so valiantly to engage Anders in conversation on the trip out to the coast. He’d even given her a sympathetic smile when he realized Anders was determined to be miserable and was claiming Sekhmet as his company. Instead, Varric had kept Bethany entertained with stories about Merrill’s recent antics.

“No, it’ll be safer if we stick together. If it’s a trap it’s not a good idea to have Bethany and I on our own especially where Templars are involved.” Anders’ eyes were scanning the hills around them. “I really don’t like that we’re surrounded by these rock faces.” He took a few steps forward then turned back to look at them.

“Hawke, you should take point to keep an eye out for any traps. I’ll go behind her and keep a shield up; I can keep it up around all of us until we determine it’s safe. Varric, keep an eye out for any attacks from the rear.” The air around them shimmered blue as Anders’ shield went up.

Sekhmet turned to Varric with a grin, “Sweet Maker he makes me hot when he starts ordering us about like that.”

Varric chuckled, “Makes all my chest hair stand up.” When Anders scowled at him he just laughed heartily, “We better get to it, our surly mage has spoken.”

“Come on you two, this isn’t really the time for jokes.” Bethany just barely got the sentence out before she started giggling too.

Anders watched them all, his scowl still in place. “Hey, we could get attacked at any moment you three. This isn’t a stroll through a garden.” He sighed and pushed stray wisps of hair off his forehead and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

Sekhmet stopped laughing; she took a deep breath to keep herself from breaking out in laughter again and turned to Varric and Bethany. “Anders is right, we should pull ourselves together.” She’d seen that look on Anders’ face a few times before; it signaled the end of his patience. He was about three breaths away from losing his temper completely and if that happened there was a good chance they’d be dealing with Justice instead of Anders.

It took the other a few more moments to calm down but Anders had already started to relax. As soon as she was sure everyone had gotten themselves together she started up the small incline to where Ser Thrask stood. She didn’t find any traps and they hadn’t been ambushed, so far so good.

Thrask actually looked relieved to see them. “Serrah Hawke, I am glad you made it here. I spoke with Arianni and she told me what you did for the boy Feynriel.”

Anders’ shield was gone now but she could feel his magic humming right below his skin. The smell of icy forest lake surrounded them all like thick fog. He even moved closer to her. Playing protector without Fenris around? That was certainly new. She turned her attention back to Thrask, the man didn’t seem like he was waiting for an attack but she had only met him the once. “Did she?”

“Yes, she did. I was wondering if perhaps you might be willing to show mages a little kindness again.” He took a quick look around them, looking for someone obviously. Had she read him wrong?

“Expecting someone Templar?” She’d gut him if he’d drawn her in just for an ambush.

“Yes, but I’m hoping we can get this sorted before the other Templars get here.” He took a small step towards her and Anders took a step towards him as well.

He towered over the Templar. “Just what are you looking to sort out, Templar.” He uttered the word like a curse.

“There are mages hiding in the caves behind me. They…” He took a small step back when Anders snapped at him.

“We are not killing mages for you.” His power was sparking off his fingertips now; she even thought she saw little sparks in his hair. 

“No, I do not want them killed.” Thrask turned to her looking a little lost.

She reached out and took Anders’ hand, wincing at the prickles of energy but she didn’t say a word to him. She needed him to calm down, at least for now. It was a matter of seconds before he let the magic dissipate and a flicker of healing energy caressed her hand before he released it. He didn’t back down from Thrask though.

“What would you like from us?” She didn’t bother trying to hide her distrust.

“Ser Kerras and the other Templars will be here soon. Inside these caves are the mages from the former circle in Starkhaven.” He was rushing now and looking nervously about almost constantly.

“Former Circle?” Circles weren’t just disbanded.

“It was burned down and the Templars there requested that we transport these mages to the Circle in Kirkwall. They escaped while we were transporting them and have holed up in these caves. They tend to kill Templar’s on sight. I was hoping you could convince them to come out peacefully, that it is better to live in the Circle than to die here. If they are still in there when Karras gets here he’ll slaughter them all.” His eyes were soft and she was surprised to see that he really did seem to want to help the mages.

“He’d just kill them? Wouldn’t even bother trying to bring them in?” She thought they were at least supposed to try to get the mages to the Circle safely.

“He’d kill every one of them and Meredith would probably congratulate him on a job well done.” A look of pure disgust contorted his features. 

She gave a faint nod, “I don’t want to see these mages murdered. We’ll see if we can talk to them and try to work something out.”

Anders looked at her and gave her a small smile. She appreciated the support for about five seconds before she became annoyed that he had seemed so surprised. She pulled her daggers free and walked into the cave. She just wanted to get in and out of there as quickly as possible. She felt dirty just talking to a Templar.

They’d barely made it through the cave entrance when they encountered the first mage. He attacked on sight using blood magic to animate skeletons that were littering the cave. She tried to get close enough to him to yell over the din and let him know she just wanted to talk, but he attacked her leeching blood from her body straight through her pores.

When she couldn’t seem to get far enough away from him to get out of the spell’s grip she ended up using a throwing knife to kill the man. He fell silently and she slumped on the ground as the sounds of fighting around her died down. Anders jogged over to her, his magic already checking her for injuries.

She waived him off, “I’m fine. Just let me rest a second. Maker forsaken blood mages, that bloody hurt.”

“We can’t send them back to the Circle Hawke. Look how desperate they are to stay out of it.” Anders helped her to her feet.

“Well what are we going to do? They’re clearly dangerous.” Bethany handed her a neckerchief.

She swiped at her face before tugging off her gloves and wiping both them and her hands down. “Let’s see if we can get someone to talk to us first. Then we’ll decide what to do from there.”

“Are you alright?” Varric looked a little ill.

She chuckled, “Yeah, probably looks worse than it is. It stopped hurting as soon as he stopped casting. It’s just really messy.” She tucked the neckerchief into her belt hoping she wouldn’t need it again before they got out of the cave.

“If you see them casting blood magic, steer clear, we can take care of it. There’s no need to get yourself pulled into that spell again. Some blood mages can pull blood from you a whole lot faster. Or do even worse. We need to be careful.” She was sure Anders was trying to be helpful but sounded more like he was scolding her.

She pulled her gloves back on and readied her daggers before moving on. They hadn’t gone very far before they were attacked by more skeletons. As she was cutting them down she caught sight of a figure huddled and shaking further along in the cave. Leaving the others to fight their way to her she jogged ahead to protect the man from the advancing undead.

She needn’t have bothered apparently; they weren’t interested in the figure, which turned out to be a boy a bit younger than Bethany. When the others reached her the boy slowly stood up straight, still shaking a bit as he looked at them. She felt sick when she saw him; he was even younger than she had originally thought.

“Maker’s blessing, I really thought I was going to die here in this…this tomb. Are, are you with the Templars? Please, I really need to go back to the Circle.” He was so damn young.

Anders moved closer to the boy, “Are you sure? We can help you. You don’t need to go back there.”

He shook his head vehemently, looking petrified at the sight of Anders. “No, please I want to go back.”

She looked at Anders and jerked her head a little; he got the hint and backed away from the boy. “It’s alright, Anders is harmless, I promise.” She smiled for him and he finally relaxed a little. “Ser Thrask is outside; you’ll be safe with him.” 

“Thank you, thank you very much.” He was ready to bolt.

“Before you go, can tell me about the mages you came with.” 

He flashed a nervous glance to Anders again before talking quickly. The mages were following a man named Decimus who was using blood magic to raise the dead. The boy gave them a little more information as well as his own feelings on blood magic before running from the cave like he was being chased by wolves. Sekhmet was ready to head through to the next chamber, but Anders stopped her.

“Hey, what was all that about?” He looked upset and a little hurt.

“What the kid?” 

“Yeah, Anders is harmless? Why were you reassuring him about me but no one else? Don’t you trust me?” His eyes were watching her carefully.

She’d never seen him like this, she’d thought he was offended but he looked more hurt now than anything else. Now that he made it clear he only wanted to be friends he suddenly cared what she thought about him? “Anders, I told him you were harmless because he looked like he was terrified of you.”

Instead of reassuring him, he seemed even more upset. “Why? I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Blondie calm down, he was just a kid, nothing to get twisted about.” Varric gave him a puzzled look.

“You calm down Varric, you’re not the one scaring children.” He glared at the dwarf.

Sekhmet couldn’t help it, she chuckled, “I doubt the kid has seen a mage with magic or fire power like yours. Not to mention you’re like ten feet tall, add the scar plus the tattoos and a boy who’s never really seen the world might be a bit intimidated. Personally, I think the kid has terrible taste.” She thought of seriously flirting for a moment, but decided to just go completely over the top see if she could get him to smile maybe. With an exaggerated leer she licked her lips dramatically. “You’re like sex on legs, long sexy legs.”

Anders looked unsure for a moment before he gave just a hint of a smile and a light chuckle. “Thanks, I guess.”

Varric huffed and rolled his eyes with a grin. “And I suppose I’m invisible.”

“Are you kidding me? We both know Anders has about as much body hair as Fenris. You, dear dwarf, are the man of all my chest hair fantasies.” She gave a sigh and bit her lip, “Mmm, thick and luxurious between my fingers, dreamy.”

“Hey, I’m not…” Anders paused and looked at her then shook his head, the small smile still curving those pretty lips, “nevermind, forget it.”

“Now that we’re done establishing that you two are the manliest and sexiest men in Thedas can we move on and help these mages out?” Beth shook her head, but she was smiling. 

“And here I thought you were in charge, Hawke.” Varric was wiping Bianca down; he couldn’t stand the idea of her being bloodstained.

“Not at all, I willingly concede to Bethany.” She couldn’t help smiling at the horrified look on Bethany’s face. “No? All well, off we go then.”

Anders kept pace beside her and Varric fell into step behind her with Bethany at his side. The cavern had obviously been host to someone before, there were even wooden structures inside of it including a staircase up to a doorway. About halfway up the steps she felt magic heavy and thick flow over her. It crawled over her skin like dozens of bugs.

She shivered a little at the feeling. She wasn’t used to magic feeling so unpleasant, Bethany’s was like warming yourself in front of a fire and Anders’ was like cool water. Even Merrill’s wasn’t terrible, tainted as it was with her blood magic. This was the second time she’d come across magic that made her skin crawl in Kirkwall.

“They’re up ahead. I think the boy was right, the man is not well.” She sheathed her blades hoping it would put the mage at ease.

“You can tell that already?” Anders was watching her curiously.

“Yeah, he’s not terribly powerful and he’ll be tired. He’s been casting non-stop for a while, that’s why the magic is so thick.” She looked behind her, “Put Bianca away Varric, I don’t want to upset him any further if we can avoid it. 

Varric did as she asked, “You really think we can get them out of here without another fight?”

“We have to try.” She only hoped their crazy leader could still be reasoned with.

“One of these days you and I are going to have a long talk about your ability to sense magic.” Anders was still watching her.

She nodded slightly, “Fair enough.” She had no idea what she would tell him though, she had no idea how she managed to sense magic. She stepped through into view of the hiding mages and her hopes at a peaceful solution crumbled to dust.

Disheveled grey hair and wide dark eyes flicked up but seemed too unfocused to really be seeing anything. “I told you they would come. Bastards in metal suits come to drag us back to the Circle.”

Beside him a young woman, purple tattoos on her face looked a little frightened, “No, Decimus, leave them be. They aren’t Templars.”

“It matters not; they have come to take us back. They dare to challenge us, let the dead speak for us.” Droplets of blood swirled around him coalescing into a red mist.

“Wait, we only want to talk.” She might as well have been talking to the dead who were slowly lumbering to their feet, Decimus ignored her.

“We don’t want to hurt you. Please stop this before something terrible happens.” Bethany’s voice rang through the cavern loudly. Decimus and the other clearly heard her but chose to ignore her.

“Dammit.” Sekhmet cursed as she drew her weapons. “Anders hold him so he can’t catch me in that awful spell like the other one did.” She waited a moment to see Decimus’ arms straighten down at his sides and his face contorted in rage. She stalked close to him, ignoring the sounds of Varric and Bethany dealing with the skeletons who had risen at Decimus’ bidding.

“I want to find a way to get you safely out of here. Call off the attack and we can find a solution to this mess.” She looked around at the other mages. “Aren’t you trying to save these mages? Let me help you.”

Decimus snarled, his voice echoing off the cavern walls, “We will kill all who stand against us.”

As he screamed at her another mage came at her already casting, it felt like lightning so she let go of her daggers and dropped to the floor. The poor man ended up hitting Decimus who was still clenching his staff in his hand. Sekhmet grabbed her daggers and rolled towards the mage who was already starting another spell.

“Anders, forget it. Take care of anyone who tries to attack.” As she spoke she slit the mage’s throat stepping neatly to the side and avoiding most of the blood spray.

She turned and started taking out a few skeletons, scanning the fight quickly. Varric had resorted to explosive bolts being that normal bolts barely fazed the skeletons. Bethany was fine but Anders was still holding Decimus as he used his other hand against the skeletons that were springing up all around them.

As she knocked over another skeleton and stomped on its skull crushing it into dust she heard Anders yelp in pain. Another mage had attacked him while he was distracted with Decimus and the skeletons. She heard him growl and then he was momentarily lost in a haze of pale blue fire.

Decimus screamed as he burst into flames quickly followed by a scream from one of the women as the mage who had hit Anders lost his head completely, it was there one moment and the next there was nothing but his neck spouting blood. Sekhmet started making her way over to Anders.

He took out a few more skeletons before backing away from the fight completely. The battle was over by the time she reached him clinging to a post, head hanging and taking deep shuddering breaths, blood covered hand pressed to the wound in his side. Justice was gone but Anders was obviously struggling.

She felt Varric and Bethany move up behind her, she turned to them with a smile, “Hey, go keep an eye on the rest of the mages will you? Make sure they don’t cause anymore trouble?”

Varric nodded and turned away but Bethany lingered for a minute, “Is he alright? Did they hurt him badly?”

“He just needs a minute before he can heal himself. I’m going to see if he needs help, I’ll be over in a minute.” She gestured towards Varric and Bethany joined him. With both of them out of the way she turned back to Anders closing the small distance between them. “Anything I can do?”

“How bad is it? How much did they see?” He didn’t look up at her, his head still hung down, his hair hanging in his face.

“Neither of them saw anything, but I think a few of the other mages caught it. Anders, you were hit, how bad is it?” She moved to try to get a better look at his injury.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know why I lost it like that. Shit, that could have been really bad.” He finally stood up, leaning heavily against the post, his hand still pressed to his wound.

“Don’t apologize, just heal yourself dammit. Can you heal it?” Was he trying to punish himself by not healing?

Anders sighed heavily and his hand glowed sapphire for a few seconds before he moved it away. “There, happy?” He pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and started wiping his hand clean.

She nodded, “Yes, now are you ready to go talk with these idiots, or do you need a few more minutes?”

“No lecture on controlling myself?” He looked totally confused.

“You…Justice protected you, nothing to lecture you about.” The man really did have an unhealthy obsession with being punished.

“Perhaps we should talk about this later.” He took the leather thong out of his hair pulled it all back and tied it back up, loose strands contained once again.

“Fine, if that will make you happy. Now, let’s see what we can do about these mages.” She walked to where everyone else was waiting for them, suddenly feeling very tired. 

The young woman who had spoken to Decimus earlier stepped forward, by passing Sekhmet completely and walked right up to Anders who watched her warily. “You…you killed him.” She closed her eyes, “If only he had listened. So was he right, are you here to take us back?”

Anders shook his head.

“You’re one of us,” she reached for his face but he jerked his head away from her touch. “You wear no mark of the Circle. Yet you fight and kill your own kind.” She was clearly disgusted.

It didn’t faze Anders much. “Your lover attacked us, even after we told him we only wanted to speak to him. He forced our hand. Would you have us simply let ourselves be murdered?”

She stepped away from Anders, “No, of course not. It’s just that without Decimus things will be much more difficult. He gave us the courage to face the Templars. Without him we would be prisoners still.”

She was clearly still speaking to Anders but he didn’t respond and he looked incredibly uncomfortable so Sekhmet decided to take over. “I’m sorry things happened the way they did. I had hoped for a much different outcome. He obviously meant a lot to you, but hopefully we can still try to find a way to work together.”

“Each of us spent our whole lives in the Circle, none of us ever thought to fight back until Decimus. I know you think he went too far but he thought it was the only way to protect us…to protect me. I…we just want our freedom, the same as your friends. We shouldn’t all be punished for what Decimus did.” Her attention was focused solely on Sekhmet now.

Briefly, she thought about telling the woman she was the wrong one to make an emotional appeal too, she’d have more luck trying Bethany. But then she had another idea. She went back over the conversation in her head again. “I want Anders to check you all for injuries. I want to be sure you are all safe and in good health before we make any plans.”

The young woman looked a little surprised, “We’re all fine, we have a healer of our own so there’s no need to trouble yours.”

“All the same I would feel much better if you let Anders check you all out.” She gave the woman a small stiff smile. Hoping her message made it through clearly, _“I’m being polite, but it isn’t really a request.”_

The woman sighed, obviously her message had been received, “Very well, if you insist. Everyone cooperate, this shouldn’t take long.”

Anders gave Sekhmet a questioning look, she nodded and he checked them each out, healing a few scrapes and sprains along the way. He came back and Sekhmet motioned for him to join her a little away from the others. He followed quickly.

“So, how far along is she?” She figured the woman would probably start showing anytime now.

“How did you know?” There was that adorable little confused look of his again.

“She kept changing her pronouns back and forth, not to mention she keeps touching her stomach. So, how far along?” She was surprised Anders hadn’t realized it himself.

“Nearly four months, and Hawke if she goes back they’ll take the baby away from her. She’ll never see it.” He gave her a soft smile, “I still can’t believe you got that just from listening to her. You really are amazing sometimes.”

She smiled back, “I know.” She returned to the group, “So you have an idea of where to go?”

“We’ll have to leave the Free Marches. There are rumors of places where the Templars are not so vigilant.” She shifted on her feet, “Does that mean you’ll help us?”

“What do you need from us?” She didn’t want to see this woman lose her child.

“The Templar you met on your way into here, you need to kill him. That way we can get out of Kirkwall before the Templars can send more men.” She was very calm now.

Anders shrugged, “He’s not bad for a Templar, but his death would still be better than all of these mages being put to death.”

“Let me try to convince him that you’re dead and to leave first. Anders is right he’s a decent guy for a Templar and I’d rather not kill him if I don’t have too.” Chances were good that if Thrask were killed someone much worse would take his place. And it made her feel a little better to know that there was at least one halfway decent Templar in Kirkwall.

The woman smiled, “Good luck, I have to be honest though. These Templars deserve no mercy, they strike first and think afterwards. Just don’t end up getting killed in the process of trying to convince him.

Sekhmet nodded, “May we all make it out of here alive.”

They headed back the way they came, there were a few skirmishes with the undead, but they were easy enough to dispatch. As they approached the mouth of the cave she heard voices and slowed her steps to listen. 

“Are you trying to tell me this boy is all that’s left of the apostates?” A surly voice, belonging to an older man obviously.

“I ran away when they began to use blood magic ser.” That was Alain’s voice, timid and shaky.

“They are not in the caverns ser Karras,” this from Thrask. “I have thoroughly explore…"

She stepped out into the light; she wanted to meet this ser Kerras that valued life so little that he would slaughter a cave full of mages because they had inconvenienced him. 

“Who is this?” He was the same height as Thrask, blonde with thick sideburns fanning out from his face at strange angles. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes glittered with violence and anger. Yes, this one was a killer, one who enjoyed it immensely if she were any judge.

She gave him a dazzling smile. “I’m about to be your new best friend.”

He scowled at her, “I neither want nor need any new friends.”

She nodded a bit, “Fine, then I’m the one who’s going to get you a medal for putting down this mage rebellion.”

He relaxed, the first birth pangs of a smile curling his lips, “I’m listening.”

“Good,” she walked towards him, “Listen closely,” another step; she was less than a step from him. “Can you imagine all the accolades such an accomplishment will garner from the Knight Commander?”

The smile broke free and he hummed in his chest, “Mmm.”

She smiled again, “Ah, who the Void am I kidding?” Lightning fast she struck, decapitating him so quickly the smile was still on his face as his head began to fall from his body. “You’ll have to collect your reward from that bitch posthumously.”

“Andraste’s tits, Hawke what did you do?” Anders’ voice was a whisper behind her.

Angry shouts followed by the sound of heavy boots hitting the sand drowned out any response she might have given him. Their shock apparently subsiding, she and her companions were attacked en masse by the other Templars, with the exception of Thrask who was fighting his own comrades. She was glad that she had decided not to kill Thrask.

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. There was something cathartic about killing Templars. She loved Kirkwall Templars; it was so hot they rarely wore their helmets, making killing them a simple matter of decapitation or slitting their throats. Their armor thudded and clinked as they fell to the ground filling the air with a beautiful, if tinny, music.

Blood soaked from head to toe in the blood of Templars, laughter still escaping now and then she looked around for another Templar and found that the only one left standing was Thrask. The man looked horrified, she wasn’t sure whether it was over her behavior or the idea that he had killed fellow Templars but she tried to calm herself. She succeeded in quieting her laughter but couldn’t quite lose the grin. She was still too exhilarated at watching that pompous bastard’s head fall off, shit eating grin still intact.

“How about you give us a heads up next time you plan on starting a fight against a unit of Templars.” Varric’s good humor had apparently taken a beating in the fight.

“Come on Varric, I thought you of all people could appreciate that, I was improvising.” She clapped him on the back. He grunted but didn’t respond.

Thrask looked like he had aged twenty years in the last ten minutes. “I was hoping to end this without bloodshed, peacefully.”

The young woman from inside the cave suddenly stepped into the light. “Clenched fists do not bring peace, Kirkwall has been tightening its fists, crushing the mages. There is nothing in the future between Kirkwall mages and Templars except war.”

The woman was right; Sekhmet saw it more and more clearly everyday. More and more mages were snapping under the strain. Kirkwall’s Templars were making the city less safe while trying to claim they were protecting the citizens. “What will you do now Thrask? You fought with us against the other Templars. Have you decided it’s time to leave the Order?”

He sighed, “I will stay for now, do what I can. Perhaps, we can avoid this war if we find a way to work together.”

Sekhmet nodded. “And these mages?”

“I’m sad to report that I was only able to save Alain. The mages killed the Templars before disappearing. I needed to bring Alain back to the Circle before I could start a search.” He looked to the young woman and the other mages standing with her. “Good luck to you.”

The woman handed her staff to Sekhmet, “Here, I can’t carry this anymore; it has the mark of Starkhaven on it. It is all we can offer in payment.”

Sekhmet smiled a little, “Thank you for the staff, I wish you luck on your travels.” They watched the mages disappear into the hills. She turned back to Thrask, “Anything we can help with before we leave?”

“Help me lay a false trail for the Templars who come searching for the mages to follow.” He headed down towards the coast.

“Sounds like a plan. Anders, is there anything you can do about their real trail?” 

“Yeah, I think we can manage to get a good gust of wind to blow it away.” He headed down the path a little towards where the mages had headed as Sekhmet and the others followed Thrask.

********

Hawke settled down next to Anders on the ground, he looked up at her briefly, she was still blood splattered and looked as tired as he felt. After spending the last several hours trekking all over laying false trails they needed a break before they headed back to Kirkwall. Thrask and Alain had already headed towards the city not wanting to be seen in the company of Hawke and her companions lest someone make a connection. Another reason they were resting on the coast for a bit. 

He opened his waterskin and took a long pull, part of him thankful for Hawke’s closeness and part of him worried about what she wanted.

“I’m going to be nosy.” She started casually.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, unsure of where this was going. “Alright.” He spoke cautiously.

“Did you know the Hero of Ferelden when you were a Warden?”

He nodded, that was an easy enough question. “Yes, she’s my,” he had been about to say sister-in-law, but for the most part he and Alistair being brothers was still a secret, “was my Commander.”

“What is she like? You hear so many things; it’s hard to know what’s true.” She seemed to genuinely want to know.

He could play along for a while, it wouldn’t hurt to share a little of his life with her. “What do you want to know?”

“Did she really bed Isabela?” She gave him a distasteful look.

He chuckled, he seemed to remember Hawke looking at Isabela with more than just a little interest when they had first met, but he wasn’t going to remind her of that. “And why would she tell me that?”

Hawke shook her head with a rueful smile, “I don’t know I’m just curious. She’s kind of an inspiration to me.”

He couldn’t help smiling or teasing her. “So what, if she slept with Isabela, you will too?” 

Hawke laughed, “No, I was just curious. I mean everyone knows about the Bastard Prince, but who’s to say she doesn’t enjoy time with women as well?”

Was she serious? It seemed she was so he answered for her. “Actually, that I can answer for you, but if you meet her, don’t ever tell her I told you. She has been with women, or at least one woman. Before Alistair she had a long relationship with an elven woman.”

Hawke looked surprised, “Is that his name?”

He shook his head, incredulous “Wait, you didn’t know his name?”

She shrugged, “Everyone calls him the Bastard Prince. You were in the Wardens with him right? Is he really as big as they say he is?”

What kind of question was that, why did she care? “Well he isn’t as tall as I am but he has broad shoulders, and he’s the strongest man I’ve ever known. So he’s a fairly large man.” He saw her flush slightly and realized what she was really asking. He was more than a little annoyed and snapped at her. “I wouldn’t know, who is it that you think I am that I would know all these things?” 

“What? You told me yourself that you like men. And the stories say he’s a very good looking man.” She shifted away from him slightly.

“Just because I am as attracted to men as I am to women doesn’t mean I try to bed everyone I meet.” Seeing her shying away from him and his temper he relaxed not wanting this to turn into an argument.

He even managed to ignore her when she muttered, “No shit,” under her breath.

“You have to understand that Sareyna and Alistair are utterly devoted to each other. No one with half a brain would try to come between them.” _“Not to mention he’s my brother,”_ he thought to himself then wondered briefly if Zevran was still with them.

She was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again, “Did you like being a Warden?”

He paused, he had tried not to think about it since leaving, and the question was more complicated than it sounded. “I hated the Deep Roads, there is just nothing good about them. You’re under miles of rock, in a place so old there are cave-ins all the time. They either smell like must and mold or Darkspawn, and honestly, I’m not a fan of either. 

No matter how much light you’re carrying, it never seems to be enough, like the Deep Roads eat it or something. Then of course you have your Darkspawn, deep stalkers and giant spiders.” He shook his head, “Just not good.”

“What are deep stalkers?” She asked curiously.

He found his self relaxing more, enjoying their conversation and her curiosity. “Vicious little things, about the size of a dog, they have sharp claws and sharper teeth. They can scrunch up and hide, blending in with the background. With their coloring they look like little rock formations until they attack you. Not to mention they are absolutely disgusting, they hiss and spit at you. Some are poisonous; others just have really thick saliva making it difficult for you to move for a while.” He shuddered involuntarily. They really were disgusting little buggers. 

Hawke made a sour face before canting her head to the side a little, “What about outside of the Deep Roads. Surely, you weren’t there all the time.”

“No, we weren’t. I liked helping people.” He nodded a little, he didn’t usually dwell on the Wardens and so hadn’t really thought about the good times he had with them in a while. “It was nice to be able to use my magic to help people for once.” It really had been a freedom he hadn’t experienced before, and he was able to share it with other mages even. 

“I learned new spells from other mages who had never been trained in the Circle so their spells were completely different. I was really surprised by the sheer amount of magic that the Circle doesn’t teach.” And he had been, all the books he had pored over while at the Keep had revealed a staggering amount of information the Circle kept from mages, then again maybe _they_ didn’t even know it after so many centuries.

“Why don’t they teach it, is it dangerous?” She was watching him raptly.

“No more dangerous than a firestorm. Perhaps, they just don’t know it, or perhaps the spells they teach had to be approved by the Chantry.” Anders shrugged, annoyed by it either way. “Who knows?” Anders paused for a moment remembering the mornings in the refectory, the feeling after killing a bunch of Darkspawn and evenings sitting around the fire. “You know, it was nice to feel like a part of something, something larger than yourself.

"But don’t romanticize it. There’s also the fact that you are in almost constant danger, you know that no matter what you do, no matter how many Darkspawn you kill, there will still be more once you die. And being a Warden has some unpleasant side effects. So, I guess the answer is yes and no. It was an experience and I’m grateful for it and what it gave me, and maybe that’s enough.”

He noticed that Hawke was staring at him with a strange look and wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she was thinking. “Then why are you still here, Anders? If Karl was your reason for coming here, then why are you still here? You can help mages anywhere.”

“It’s not that simple.” This could be a bit complicated if she pushed too much, plus they’d already had a similar conversation months ago.

Hawke furrowed her brow, “Why not? You’re an incredibly powerful mage, even without Justice. I would think that they would be happy to have you.”

Anders ground his teeth together, there was no reason to get angry with her, she couldn’t know all the reasons he could never, would never go back to them. “To stop them from looking for me, I let them think I was dead.”

Hawke sighed, “I still think they would be glad to get you back.”

He quirked a brow at her, falling back on deflection, “Trying to get rid of me?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Surely you know better than that, Anders. If I had my way, you would never leave my side, but if I am going to lose you back to the Wardens, I would rather know now.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to feel about her outburst as the emotions slid over him quickly: surprise, happiness, fear so he just shook his head, “I’m not going back, I already told you that.”

“Are you sure?” So full of doubt still.

He didn’t know how to reassure her. “You’re going to have to trust me, Hawke. There is no place for me among the Wardens anymore. And traveling with you still gives me the chance to help people.” 

Her smile was brilliant, and he felt a little flutter in his chest. “You help plenty of people in your clinic, Anders.” She leaned against his shoulder, “But I’m glad for your help.” Her voice became a bit quieter, “And your company.”

He was slightly surprised by the contact; it was intimate, but not threatening. And he decided to just enjoy it as the friendly gesture it was; Justice didn’t seem to mind it much. He looked around the camp to see that Varric and Bethany had both dozed off. “I suppose we’re keeping watch.”

Hawke nodded, “Bethany hasn’t been sleeping well. She doesn’t say anything but I know she misses Carver and she worries about mother terribly.” She gave a little chuckle, “I don’t think she realizes how strong our mother really is.”

“She ran off with an apostate, right?” He had been desperate to hear the whole story since he had first learned about Hawke’s father.

Hawke nodded again, “She did, fell in love with him and ran away to be with him. We ran all across Ferelden avoiding the Templars until I was fifteen.”

He had no idea how that was possible, to avoid the Templars in Ferelden all those years, and with children at that. He would have loved to meet Hawke’s father. “What happened when you were fifteen?”

“We settled in Lothering, the Chantry presence there was small and Papa wanted to give Bethany some stability. Being on the run was hard on her,” Hawke shook her head. “She always blamed herself for our constantly running, it’s like she forgot our father was an apostate or something.” She turned to look at him, “You want to hear something funny? I missed it. I found staying in Lothering unbearably boring. I was always in trouble because I was so damn bored.”

Anders furrowed his brow, surprised “You liked running?”

“I liked the excitement that you never knew what each day would bring. It was like air, like breathing to me. I was raised with it. Staying in that tiny town was almost like torture to me, I felt caged,” she paused and looked out over the horizon. “I felt like an animal whose claws had been clipped and whose fangs had been pulled. I was afraid I would lose my instincts, my ability to sense danger.” She snorted, “And in a way I did.” She turned and pulled away from him, no longer touching him.

He missed the small contact immediately, it had been comforting, but it was easy to see she was upset about something. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking about her description of herself as a wild animal. Sometimes when they fought he could see it in her, a feral snarl and bared teeth as she ripped through their enemies with a speed, a wicked grace that one might find in a predator, a large cat perhaps. 

He suppressed a smile; it wasn’t hard to picture her as a cat. Proud and fierce, vicious and agile, she was dangerous in so many ways. He shifted himself away from her a little, his fingers ached to touch her, to soothe away the frown she wore as she stared off into the distance. But he wasn’t sure she would welcome the touch, or if it was a good idea for him to touch her considering how much he wanted to.

“I don’t think you lost anything, when we’re out looking for trouble, you always know that danger is coming before any of the rest of us. And we all know what a terror you are in a fight.” He gave her a rueful smile when she turned back to look at him with sad eyes, their crystalline blue flashing her feelings quickly before they disappeared as rapidly as they had appeared, leaving just a curiosity in their depths. Those quick notes called to him. “You’re so fast, I have a hard time keeping track of you, and sometimes I set up a shield so I can take a moment to look for you, to make sure you’re alright.”

Hawke cocked her head as she looked at him. “It must be hard for you. When I fight, I just let go, let the rush take me over and cut down everything in my path, but you have to stay so controlled. You have to protect yourself and watch us all at the same time; make sure we don’t need to be healed.”

Anders was quiet for a moment; did she not realize what she did on the field during a fight? “Hawke, there’s rarely a time that anything gets close to me or Bethany, you’re always there first killing it.”

Hawke furrowed her brow and blinked a few times. Unexpectedly, she started giggling, “Must be ingrained.” Suddenly, she snapped her mouth shut and closed her eyes. “Don’t count on me to save you, Anders. Don’t ever count on me.” Abruptly, she stood up and walked to the tree line, disappearing into the darkness.

Anders stared after her, confused by her sudden shifts. He struggled with the urge to go after her, to make sure she was alright. It was a ridiculous thought, she could take care of herself and someone needed to watch over their dozing companions. It didn’t change the fact that he desperately wanted to follow her and find out exactly what had just happened. 

“Leave her be. It’s best to stay away from her when she gets like that.”

The voice startled him, he turned and saw Bethany sitting up, “I thought you were sleeping.”

Bethany shook her head, “Not really, just resting.” She looked over to Varric, “but he’s out.”

“You look tired.” Anders said quietly, her eyes had dark circles and her skin was a touch paler than usual.

Bethany gave him a smile, “She’s right, I haven’t been sleeping.” She looked down at her hands, “I keep thinking about Carver. I mean I’m a mage, why couldn’t I save him?”

Anders hadn’t known Carver and often wondered why the two of them didn’t mention him more. It seemed odd to him that not even his twin spoke of him much. “Maybe it was his time.”

Bethany drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, reinforcing the idea of her youth in Anders’ mind. “I’ve been thinking about that for the last few days. He would have hated Kirkwall, all the nobles putting on airs and Fereldens crammed into Darktown.” She shook her head a little, “He’d probably have ended up arrested or…dead.” She took a shaky breath, “And things between him and Sekhmet would only have gotten worse.”

“Was it really that bad between them? It’s hard to imagine, you two get along so well.”

Bethany’s laugh was bitter, “Carver resented Sekhmet, always felt he was in her shadow. He blamed her for…a lot of things and Sekhmet never defended herself when he started throwing accusations at her.” 

She went silent and Anders tried to think of something to say, eventually it was her that spoke, “I saw them sparring one day, about a year and a half before we left Lothering to come here. I had followed them because I was bored. He was vicious, screaming at her as he attacked her again and again. She dodged most of his attacks and the more he missed her, the more furious he became.

"Finally, he caught her, he swung his sword and when she went to dodge it he rammed into her with his shoulder. It knocked her clean off her feet. She laid on the ground on her back looking up at him and he put his sword to her throat and the look in his eyes,” she swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “He looked like he was going to kill her. She closed her eyes and spoke, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.” Bethany took a deep breath and was no longer looking at him, suddenly more interested in studying her boots.

“What did she say, Bethany?” He feared he already had an idea.

He watched as a tear slid down her cheek. “She told him to, ‘Do it.’ And I think she meant it, she looked so worn, so tired, just completely defeated.”

Anders felt a muscle twitch in his jaw, it didn’t fit with the Hawke he knew, but there were those eyes. “She wanted him to kill her?”

Bethany took a deep breath, still studying her boots. “He told her he wouldn’t disappoint mother like she had and then he left. Sekhmet just lay there, staring at the sky. I couldn’t watch her; I left and went back to the house.” She looked up at Anders again, “I didn’t know, she was always laughing, always smiling. When she came home that day she smiled as soon as she came in the door. I…I never said anything to her, I knew she would be upset if she knew I had seen that.”

There was a rustling in the trees behind them and Bethany’s face schooled carefully into a smile of her own. Anders wondered if she knew how much like her sister she was, he turned and watched Hawke walk back into the clearing. Had she heard them talking about her? He supposed they would find out momentarily. 

She gave Bethany a smile when she saw her awake. “How are you feeling?”  
“Better.”

Hawke walked over to Bethany and touched her forehead briefly, “Are you sure? You look awfully pale.”

“I’m fine, Sekhmet. Let’s wake Varric and get going.”

Hawke shook her head. “We won’t get back to Kirkwall before dark, might as well let him sleep and set up camp.” She turned to Anders, “Do you have a tent with you?”

Anders nodded, he always brought one when they were leaving Kirkwall. It had only taken him two trips out of the city to realize Hawke often found one reason or another not to return to the city right away. He opened his pack and pulled out his tent and started setting it up. It was one of the few things he still had from when he was a Warden and it had become one of his most prized possessions.

It had served him well since he had left the Wardens. There had been many times when he had found himself with no place to stay and a storm on the way. The thick oiled canvas held up remarkably well to even the heaviest rains. His bedroll was just as prized; he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

He sometimes wondered how he had survived all of those escapes from the Circle often left at the mercy of the elements and sleeping in the most uncomfortable of places. The idea of climbing up a tree to spend the night absolutely horrified him now. He laughed softly.

“Something funny?” Hawke was watching him curiously as she set up her own tent.

“I’m just getting old.”

Hawke gave him a questioning look.

“The conditions I used to live in when I escaped the Circle horrify me now. But back then, I loved it, it was exhilarating and I loved feeling the elements and nature all around me. I slept in trees or caves and never thought twice about it. Now, I sleep in a tent on a bedroll and have to stretch and heal myself half the time before I get up.”

She smiled at him, “Remind me not to get old.”

“I’m not that much older than you.” He gave her a mock scowl.

“Are you sure?”

He was reasonably sure, but it was never wise to guess a woman’s age. So he just shook his head and finished setting up his tent before getting rocks to form a makeshift fire pit. Hawke dropped the discussion and helped Bethany with her own tent.

Bethany’s tent was the first thing they had purchased after doing their first paying job together. Apparently, Hawke often thrashed in her sleep and Bethany complained constantly of not being able to sleep and waking up with bruises.

Once finished with the tents and the fire ring Hawke and Anders left Bethany to watch over the miraculously still sleeping Varric so they could find firewood for the night. Much of it passed in silence, suddenly Hawke froze and Anders followed suit. Without a word she set the wood she had been carrying into Anders’ arms.

She gestured for him to stay still as she crept slowly forward. She slipped one of her throwing knives free and stopped moving. Anders scanned the area, trying to see what it was she was seeing. There was nothing there that he could see, but he kept still and silent none the less.

He heard a squawk followed almost immediately by a second one that was cut off as Hawke’s knife disappeared in a flurry of activity. She pushed through some low scrub and bent over to pick something up. As she came back he saw her wipe her knife on her armor and slip it back into her belt. She was holding a bird in her other hand. 

“Dinner.” She stated simply.

“I didn’t even see it.”

“Ever do any hunting?” She grabbed some of the wood from Anders tucking it up under her free arm so she could help carry it back to camp.

“No, not really. I mean I did when I had to, but not like you. I used magic, glyphs and what not.”

Hawke nodded, “Thought not, pheasant are good. It’ll feed all of us.” She gave him a small smile, “So if you don’t hunt can you cook?”

“I can,” he gave her a small smile. “After the first time I escaped from the tower and I realized I had no idea what I was doing, I took a class on cooking. It was elective and I was one of only three students that took it.” 

He remembered the class fondly, “Senior Enchanter Josephine taught the class, with so few of us, she could dedicate a lot of time to us and we learned a lot. The first thing we learned was how to start a fire without magic. It took us almost a week to figure it out.” He chuckled a little at the memory.

“To graduate from the class you had to prepare a meal for all of the senior enchanters, including dessert. It was sad to me that more mages didn’t want to learn. They know they are in the Circle for the rest of their lives and figure why bother.” He was quiet for a moment, the idea gave him pause. What would mages do if they were freed? Most of them had no skills for survival. He shook his head as if to clear it, that was a thought for another day.

“Good, then dinner’s all you tonight.”

Anders nodded, “I’ll clean the pheasant while you build a spit?”

“Alright.”

“Was it always like this for you before you settled down in Lothering?” He knew he was treading in dangerous water again, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like for her.

“We all worked together, Papa and I would go hunting, Carver and Mother would clean the animal while Bethany foraged for something fresh,” she smiled at the memory, “then Mother and Bethany would do the cooking.”

“Not you?”

Hawke shook her head with a laugh, “I wasn’t interested. I didn’t bother to learn until we settled in Lothering, and even then Mother had to force me. She used to tell me that I needed to learn the ‘softer arts’ if I ever wanted to find a husband. That made me not want to learn all the more.”

“You didn’t want to get married?”

Hawke shrugged, “If it was like they were, they loved each other so much. I remember them before we settled in Lothering. Mother was so different, she was fierce, strong, she was Papa’s equal in every way. She did with words what he did with magic, I can’t even count the times she talked Templars into thinking they had hallucinated something they had seen. And the two of them were so passionate, like they couldn’t live without each other.” Hawke laughed, “Listen to me, I make it sound like a fairy tale.”

She sighed softly. “When we moved to Lothering things changed. She settled into this role, this idea of what she thought a wife should be. She stayed home, cooked, cleaned, did all the baking. Being this ideal of what she thought was a perfect mother and wife took over her life. I wanted nothing to do with that, I still don’t. Not like I have to worry about it much.” 

“And why is that? You’re pretty enough.”

Hawke glared at him, “Pretty enough, yes I suppose that’s a lot of it isn’t it? I’m not tall or willowy; I don’t have curves like a lot of other women. My hair is strange, I have tattoos and I like to fight. And I’m not exactly a paragon of chastity or any other womanly virtues.”

Anders scowled; he hadn’t meant to insult her. “I think any man would be lucky to call you his.”

Hawke laughed bitterly, “Except for you.” With that she strode forward quickly and pushed through the tree line and into their camp.

“Damn you and your big mouth, Anders.” He cursed himself quietly as he followed her .


	16. Pale and Perfect

Anders could feel Fenris’ eyes burning into his back. He’d made a serious mistake today. Over the last couple of weeks he had been working with Hawke, getting comfortable letting Justice through a bit. Justice wanted to help and was eager to prove to Anders that he could be trusted not to hurt his companions.

And so today, while they had been out fighting just ordinary bandits he decided to give it a trial run outside of the clinic. He had made sure Justice understood what they were doing as well as who he needed to keep safe. Once Justice promised to return control if someone was injured or as soon as the fight was over, Anders let go and Justice came through in a brilliant flash of pale blue fire.

********

The fight was over quickly and as Justice was about to relinquish control he felt an odd scratching through his chest. Looking down he saw the end of Fenris’ blade sticking out of his chest. With a blaze of fury he turned and shoved Fenris backwards. He gripped the elf’s blade and pulled it from his back.

He felt such a rush of rage flow through him like lava speeding through his veins. He would melt the lyrium in the little bastard’s flesh and then turn his eyes to ash. Magic started uncoiling from his hand, a  
long sapphire ribbon but then she was there, Anders’ tiny woman standing over the elf, her diamond blue eyes nearly spitting fire of her own.

“Harm a single hair on his head Justice I dare you. Anders told me about your little aversion to being touched. So, I have something for you to contemplate, and feel free to let Anders’ imagination help. If you’re worried about someone just touching you, touching Anders, just imagine how you would feel about the things someone could do to you with their mouth.” Her eyes never wavered from his.

Bethany made a choking noise before walking away from them. Fenris, still on the ground, quickly slid backwards distancing himself from Justice and Hawke while Justice struggled to understand what exactly was going on. Hawke was clearly trying to deter him from injuring the treacherous elf but he did not fully understand what she was saying. And why was Anders’ body suddenly running riot like it did in the wake of some of his more vivid dreams? His heart beat sped up, galloping along in his chest making it feel odd and a bit fluttery. And now Justice felt Anders getting erect, not something he enjoyed at all. His confusion only lasted another moment before a rush of images, supplied by Anders’ mind, filled in the gaps for him. Why was Anders picturing Hawke on her knees?

He recoiled; stepping away from the vile woman, gladly giving control back over to Anders. He didn’t want to deal the obviously insane woman anymore though Anders seemed only too eager suddenly. The woman’s mind was obviously as warped by desire as Anders’ own. No wonder the mage was so taken with her.

********

Fenris lumbered slowly to his feet, sword in hand. “Hawke, are you alright?”  
Anders cringed hearing Fenris’ voice sounding guarded, grating a little at the end in obvious anger. After what had happened and what Justice had nearly done he wasn’t sure what to do at this point. Should he just leave and head back to his clinic, should he apologize to Hawke? And just how was he going to do that?

It wasn’t exactly as if what happened was his fault, he still felt he should apologize to her though. Maybe it had something to do with what he had shown Justice. He trembled minutely trying to dislodge the images, best not to dwell on it.

“Back off Fenris, I’m fine.” Her voice was clear and strong, obviously annoyed. She turned back to Anders, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You’re not injured?”

He shook his head, not ready to meet her eyes yet. He didn’t want to risk her seeing the inappropriateness of his thoughts in his eyes. Nor was he ready to see the disappointment in hers. “No, when he takes over I don’t get injured like I normally would.”

“That’s…well today I guess it’s convenient.” She was watching him, he could feel it.

He risked a glance at her and was surprised to find her smiling. “Just what the Void are you smiling about?” Fenris had nearly killed him and Justice had in turn nearly given the elf unfathomable pain.

Her grin widened and she stepped close to him keeping her voice hushed. “Admit it, when Justice was trying to figure out what I was talking about you showed him images of me and you.”

Boy had he ever. “Well what was I supposed to show him?” Why was she smiling about that?

Her smile slid into a self satisfied smirk. “Are you trying to tell me you have no memories of anyone using their mouth on you in anyway?”

He couldn’t believe her, she was right though. It hadn’t dawned on him for a single moment to show Justice his memories. There hadn’t been a need to imagine himself with her, his memories would have upset Justice more than enough. And from the look on her face she knew exactly what he had imagined. Just to feel her…no, no thinking like that. He still couldn’t believe her. “Did you really just use the threat of performing dirty sex acts on me to save Fenris’ hide?”

Her laughter burst out and he felt his chest lighten a little at the sound. She covered her mouth for a minute and he patiently waited until she had herself better under control. “Actually Anders, I didn’t threaten to perform any sexual acts, dirty or otherwise. I just hinted that a mouth might be more upsetting than a hand. You did the rest.”

He wanted to argue that it wasn’t true, or at least that her meaning had been more than clear. Especially when taking their history together into consideration, unless it really was wishful thinking. Pushing the thought aside he realized there were more important things to worry about than his ego right now. “So how pissed off at me are you?”

“I’m more pissed off at Fenris. I told him about Justice so we could avoid a situation like this. Besides the little episode with Fenris, how was it going?” She was talking with him, but kept glancing at Fenris, possibly worried he would attack again.

Anders shrugged, “Fine, good. He was ecstatic at being able to help. He was even ready to relinquish control when that ass attacked us.”

“Alright, let me talk to him. Maybe we ought to wrap things up for now. I’ll come by later, I want to do a sweep of the docks tonight. Clear out any scum that might be causing problems down there. And just a heads up, I’ll be bringing Fenris.” She raised her brow and her smile evaporated as she spoke.

With her eyes boring into him he realized arguing with her would be pointless. “Fine.” He ground out between his gritted teeth. He had no desire to see Fenris again, but wasn’t about to tell her no and leave her stuck with the elf and no healer. The docks were rough at night.

She watched him for another moment, looking for what he had no idea. He was about to ask what she needed when she turned and walked over to Fenris. As soon as the elf opened his mouth she put up her hand to stop him. “Just listen, Fenris. You and Anders need to learn to work together.”

He opened his mouth to speak again and again she stopped him.

“What part of listen are you missing Fenris? If you two can’t learn to work together then I’ll need to stop associating with one of you. And let me make this easy for you to understand Fenris. I only have one healer.” She stepped closer to him, standing toe to toe and Anders almost missed what she said, “Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

Fenris glared at her then turned and walked a few paces away. Hawke just shook her head turning to give Anders a smile before she started off again. “Alright everyone, let’s go home.” She rubbed her forehead as she headed off, clearly not as calm and relaxed as she was trying to portray.

And now Fenris was glaring at his back. He didn’t particularly care to have Fenris at his back, but he was trying to stop any further arguments. Hawke was getting a headache, he could feel it from here, but anytime he tried to talk to her she waived him off. And in her current mood he wasn’t sure how she would react to him healing her from here without her consent. Not to mention he wasn’t too keen on the idea of Fenris’ blade through his middle if the elf should happen to take umbrage with his magic.

So he trudged silently, and admittedly sullenly, behind the woman who plagued his dreams even more often than the Darkspawn. Bethany kept stride with her sister tossing uneasy glances over her shoulder periodically. It hurt that she looked a little scared. Bethany was a sweet girl; he didn’t want her afraid of him. At the same time, he almost wanted her afraid of Fenris. The man was like a rabid dog.

As if to prove his theory he felt cold hard metal encased fingers closing around his throat, squeezing and cutting off his air. Metal tips digging into the soft flesh of his neck. Justice howled in rage and tried to break free again. The spirit was beyond furious and the terrible images of just exactly what Justice wanted to do to Fenris were enough to make Anders feel sick. Bethany was staring at them in terror though and Anders vowed not to let Justice though and scare the poor girl even more. He struggled but managed to keep control as even as Fenris threatened his life again.

“Just let me kill it. None of us are safe as long as it is allowed to live.” His cool metal fingers gripped tighter around Anders’ throat.

Hawke spun around, fury in her eyes. Anders caught a glint of silver as she slipped her knife from her belt, her arm arcing upwards and skimmed across Fenris’ skin, leaving a thin red line in its wake up along his neck and just touching the underside of his chin. “This can either be a shaving accident, or a beheading.”

********

Fenris looked at her evenly, obviously trying to access whether she meant it or not. "Unhand him." She pressed the knife just a little more, watching as the as a droplet of blood slid down his neck. It would be so easy, a quick flick of her wrist and his throat would open and a garnet river would flow free glittering in the sun. It would probably look beautiful. Everything about the damned elf _looked_ beautiful.

"You put us all in danger with your twisted obsession." Fenris snarled at her, his lips peeling back to reveal small even white teeth.

Sekhmet kept her hand and voice steady as she spoke again, rage burning in her gut trying to free itself, trying to get her to make that quick little flick. She may not agree with Fenris, but she didn’t hate him and when she wasn’t so furious she didn’t want him dead. He would back down eventually; she was sure of it, if she could just hold on and not act rashly for another minute. "I said unhand my mage, elf."

Fenris abruptly shoved Anders away with a grunt of annoyance, "It'll be you first you know, he'll come for you first when he turns." With that he spun and walked away from the group.

Anders rubbed his neck, letting loose a pulse of healing energy. He looked at Sekhmet speculatively, "Not to sound ungrateful, but _your_ mage?"

She gave him a flippant smile as if she hadn't just threatened to kill one of their companions, as if her head didn’t feel like it was going to split open. Apparently, he couldn’t leave well enough alone. "It got the point across, didn't it?"

He reached for her head. “Just let me…”

She batted his hand away, made sure to point out he didn’t belong to her but a half second later was acting like it was his right to touch her whenever he wanted. “Don’t touch me.” She snapped.

Anders looked like she had slapped his face instead of just slapping his hand away from her. “Let me help. I won’t touch you.”

They were all going to drive her crazy. Right now what she really wanted was to be left alone with a bottle of rum. She rubbed at her forehead again, the pain biting above and behind her eye. And having Anders heal her was a much better route than drilling a hole in her head to relieve the pressure which was exactly what she was currently contemplating. “Fine, just do it then go home. I’ll come get you later.”

********

“Dammit.” Hawke cursed as the last thug went down. She quickly turned her back to the group. “Anders.” She called softly.

He moved forward hesitantly, it wasn’t like Hawke to be quiet. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah. It not terribly deep, but…” She hesitated again making Anders anxious.

He walked a little faster until he was standing in front of her when he saw that she looked calm, he felt relieved. The tension unwound like silk thread. Seeing her clutching her armor together he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face, no wonder she had turned away from everyone and become so quiet.

“Oh, that’s really professional Anders,” she snarked at him.

He forced his face to a more sober expression. “You’re right, sorry. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m just about tapped out,” He’d been casting all day long; first running with her most of the day, then the clinic this evening and the last few hours with her again. “So I’m going to need you to move your armor so I can see to heal you, make sure it doesn’t scar.”

She debated for a moment, possibly wondering if he was really as depleted as he said. He was always very careful not to leave scars on her. Her body had more than enough scars to last a life time. She sighed quietly apparently deciding it wasn’t just a ploy to see her breasts, before she peeled back the sides of her armor showing the stark white of her skin as well as an angry red line welling with blood that ran diagonally across her chest starting near the top of her right breast and ending under her left one. It seemed shallow enough but his attention was drawn elsewhere.

He touched his own chest unconsciously when he saw the jagged purple scar across her right breast; it looked like a fairly new scar as the color had not yet faded. Hawke stiffened and averted her eyes, and he realized what he had done. He put his hand down quickly, irritated with himself that he had made her feel uncomfortable. He wondered how it had happened and why it had not been properly healed. Was this the scar Bethany had been talking about?

 _“She has many scars from battle.”_ Justice didn’t understand his seeming fascination.

 _“But she traveled with mages, both who could do a little healing, there shouldn’t be that much scarring.”_ How could anyone that loved her leave her marked like that?

 _“Why does the damage to her body bother you?”_ Justice sounded annoyed.

 _“It doesn’t, she’s perfect.”_ He shook his head, trying to ignore his internal dialogue and turned his full attention back to Hawke.

 _“You are strange, she is clearly damaged.”_ The spirit’s voice nothing more than contradictory thoughts in his head.

 _“No more than we are; now hush, I’m trying to work.”_ Then he realized she wasn’t wearing anything under her armor, just leather on skin. “Not even a breast band?” He asked before he realized the words had left his mouth.

“What’s going on, Sekhmet?” Bethany asked, her voice more than a little annoyed.

Hawke kept her gaze on the ground, “Don’t worry about it. Fenris, get that guy’s daggers for me, will you? Those suckers are sharp.” She shuddered as his healing energy flowed over her skin.

Her nipples stiffened as the cool energy of the spell did its work. _“Not a man, a healer”_ he kept repeating the mantra to himself and tried not to think about her pale nearly opalescent skin or the incredibly dark wine coloring of her nipples in contrast and instead concentrated on not leaving another scar. “All set.”

“Good, give me your coat.” She still wouldn’t meet his eyes and it worried him.

His mind was running riot trying to figure out why she was scarred like that and he almost missed what she said all together. “My coat?”

She finally looked up and met his eyes with a smile, but it wasn’t real. “You want me to walk around Kirkwall like this?”

Varric slipped off his coat and handed it to him, “Here, don’t strain yourself Blondie.”

He was embarrassed to have been caught so off guard. “No, I mean I would.”

“Nevermind.” Hawke pulled the coat from his fingers and slipped into it. She cinched the belt tight around her middle, the leather puffing out oddly trying to gather around her little waist. Finally, she turned back to the group, “Alright, I think we’ll call that a night.”

She headed towards the stairs to Lowtown. Fenris caught up to her and handed her the daggers he had pulled off the corpse. He was still ignoring Anders but he had been exceedingly nice to Hawke all night. “Do you need me?”

She gave him a small smile, apparently over her earlier temper, though that smile wasn’t real either. “Nah, I’m just heading home.”

The elf nodded and broke from the group heading back to his mansion, Anders was glad to see him go. The rest of the group continued on to Lowtown. Bethany was walking a few paces behind Hawke and Varric with Anders bringing up the rear.

He watched Hawke and Varric talking, the dwarf cracking jokes until he made her laugh. A look of pride crossed Varric’s face for a moment before he started telling Hawke about his latest story. Anders envied Varric; he could always get a real smile from Hawke. He wondered how many times Varric had been stuck trying to make Hawke smile after she and Anders fought.

Had Varric been cleaning up his messes all along? He rubbed his forehead, frustrated; he didn’t know who he was anymore. He had always been the one making people smile, cheering them up. Now all he seemed to do was warn people away and fight with them. When he and Justice had discussed merging he had never really understood that he would be giving up himself that he would become a completely different person, a person he didn’t particularly like.

Their steps slowed and Varric veered off at the tavern, “Bring my coat by tomorrow, will you Hawke?”

“Only if you buy me a pint.” She teased, all tension gone now, swept away by Varric’s good humor.

“Do a woman a favor…” he huffed in mock irritation.

“See you tomorrow,” she chuckled and Anders tried not to be jealous of their easy banter.

He walked with the Hawke sister’s until they reached Gamlen’s, he stopped and watched them for a moment, not wanting to go just yet. Hawke gestured to Bethany to go inside. She turned to him, still standing at the bottom of the steps. “Anders?”

“Hmm?” He had been lost in thought again, wondering about the twisted purple scar. “Oh, you should come see me tomorrow so I can check that wound. It should be fine, but it was pretty dark and I barely had anything left. I want to make sure it didn’t scar.”

Hawke had descended the steps and was leaning against the low wall smirking at him. “If you want to see them again, Anders, all you have to do is ask.”

“That easy, eh?” He felt horrified when he realized what he had said, but Hawke only laughed. “I’m sorry, that’s not how I meant that.”

“It was fair; I did just offer to show you my breasts.” She shrugged nonchalantly, as if it didn’t matter.

She frustrated him; he had never had a problem with women before. Not that he was having one now exactly, it was just his need for restraint that was difficult. He needed to not get involved with her, not to get too close, even this supposed friendship was probably too much. His situation with Justice just made it too dangerous and the more he warned her away the more she seemed bent on teasing him. And the less afraid of him she was the more appealing he found her. “You’re a dangerous woman, Hawke.”

A smirk touched her lips, “You have no idea, but if I remember correctly, you said you were a dangerous man. Surely, you can handle little ol’ me.”

He closed his eyes, it was enough for one day, he shouldn’t have stayed. He couldn’t take being pushed anymore. Between Justice and Fenris and her scar he was just emotionally wiped out. “Don’t, please, you have to know how bad of an idea this is.” When he opened his eyes her smile had faded from her lips and he hated himself a bit for that.

“I’ll stop by the clinic tomorrow morning. I’ll wear something that opens in front so I can keep it on and spare your innocence.”

An apology poised on the tip of his tongue, he nodded and left quickly instead. Headed for Darktown as fast as his long legs could carry him, he felt like a complete fool. Inside his darkened clinic he felt Justice pushing at him.

_“This woman, she clouds our mind.”_

“I know.” He spoke the words out loud into the empty air; somehow it made him feel better, less like he was arguing with himself.

_“We cannot afford distractions.”_

He sighed and repeated himself, “I know.”

_“What is this that you are feeling?”_

“About what?” He was getting annoyed; Justice knew his thoughts his feelings, why was he bothering him with questions?

_“Hawke.”_

He laughed derisively, “Desire, I want her Justice.”

 _“I am confused.”_ A tumble of erotic memories glided through his mind, men and women from his past. _“This is desire, is it not?”_

“Yes.” He rubbed his forehead; he just wanted to sleep, to put the night behind him. Not that sleep would likely claim him, but he would try at least.

Then he saw Zevran stroking his hair and holding him as he trembled in the Deep Roads and then the two of them curled up together in Zevran’s bed. He winced; surprised those memories were still so painful. He had thought it all long behind him.

 _“But this is something else.”_ Justice insisted.

“In a way, yes.” Maker, he was tired and in no way equipped to have this conversation right now.

 _“What is it?”_ Justice demanded.

Sighing, he spoke aloud to himself again, “Affection.”

_“This is like what you feel for Hawke.”_

“I suppose it is.” He pulled off his coat and bent to remove his boots. Not that it mattered how he did or didn’t feel about her.

_“So, she can hurt you, like Zevran did?”_

“Justice, stop it.” He cringed before he pulled off his tunic and trousers, hoping Justice would drop his line of questioning. All these kind of thoughts ever did was remind him that he was alone, well, alone besides the angry spirit in his head, and would be for the rest of his short life. He would never get to experience what love was like, he would never get to have a child or a family, the most he could hope for was to make a difference for mages.

 _“Can she hurt us?”_ Justice asked a bit more insistently.

“It’s more likely we would hurt her.” He responded tersely.

_“Why?”_

“Enough, I’m tired, I want to sleep.”

_“We have a lot to do.”_

“Not tonight.”

He curled up on his cot, threadbare blankets pulled up to his chin. As time ticked by he tried to drown out Justice’s questions. Was this what losing your mind felt like, being completely alone and never alone at the same time? And did he really feel something for Hawke, or was it just his mind bucking against the idea that he would never experience love? Eventually, Justice realized that he wouldn’t answer any more questions and left him alone to sleep.

********

Anders awoke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest. He laughed softly to himself. It was a testament to how lonely he was that his fantasies had become so tame. There were more nights where he dreamt about holding Hawke and confessing his love, than there were nights where he dreamed about lying with her, not that there weren’t plenty of those too.

Why did she have to make things so hard on him? He was trying to keep her at arm’s length, to protect both of them. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into and he had to save her from herself, as much as from him. This world needed people like her, and he would not be the one to break her heart.

Sometimes he almost managed to convince himself that she was just looking for a good time. If he didn’t have so much experience with deflection and lying to oneself he probably would be able to buy the lie hook, line and sinker. As it was he noticed her eyes too much, saw that there was something there; she wasn’t just looking for sex. But there was no way he could give her what it was she thought she wanted.

She didn’t know who he really was, nor what he had done. If she did she wouldn’t be so eager to flirt with him. She would likely be afraid of him and as much as he wanted her at a safe distance from him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her. He was weak; he feared he would never see her again.

He could never stay away from her for long, try as he might. He missed her terribly, missed her biting sense of humor and her smiles. He missed having someone to talk to who didn’t tell him he was crazy or fighting a losing battle. She never seemed to tire of his tirades against the Templars and their abuses.

Even her fierce loyalty to her family tugged at his heart. At times she seemed to be a terrible goddess of vengeance. He had been with her at the docks one night when a Templar had come up to Bethany. The four of them had been fighting with some raiders; the Templar stood and watched, didn’t bother to help, and had seen Bethany using magic. Anders had no idea how the Templar had missed him, but it didn’t matter.

As soon as the Templar had started walking towards Bethany calling her an apostate Hawke had stepped between them. She warned him off, but of course being a Templar he didn’t listen. When he stepped forward again Hawke reached out and grabbed him, twisting his head around and breaking his neck.

It was over and done with before Anders really knew what was happening. Bethany had turned and walked away, eyes downcast. Hawke had looked to Anders and Isabela and asked for their help to throw him off the docks. With any luck if he was found they would assume he had fallen.

The body disposed of; Hawke had gone to Bethany and tried to calm her. The poor girl felt bad for the Templar, and Hawke had hugged her and said something that really stuck with Anders. “It was his own stupidity for only seeing _you_ as a threat. It was his prejudice that killed him.” Bethany had nodded, seemingly mollified by Hawke’s response. Anders had the impression it was a discussion they’d had many times before.

He closed his eyes, simple as that, her sister was threatened and Hawke had taken care of it. Was it justice, vengeance? Anders wasn’t sure, but he did know that it was the night he had absolutely realized he was in love with her. And it scared him a bit, what did it say about him that watching her kill a Templar so coldly, so efficiently had been what made him realize his feelings for her. What had he become?

And more importantly why this woman, why now? He had many lovers in his former life, but he had not fallen in love with any of them. Even Zevran, though he cared for him and loved him for who he was and for always being there for Anders, he had never actually been in love with Zevran, much as he had wanted to believe that he had been.

Anders shifted uncomfortably in his cot, he still missed them all terribly, Alistair, Sareyna and Zevran. The only family he had ever known. He had been a fool to stay behind when they invited him to join them. And he missed Pounce more than was probably healthy. He still had dreams that he and Pounce would somehow find each other, but Pounce wouldn’t leave his duty. Morrigan needed Pounce more than Anders did now.

He spared a thought for Nathaniel, wondering how he was doing, if he had moved on or if he was still with the Wardens in Amaranthine. Anders shoved the thoughts away, he didn’t want to think about Vigil’s Keep and those few months of happiness he had been allowed. He didn’t want to think about his family that he would likely never see again.

He felt Justice’s disquiet and ignored that as well. Justice had never had a family, all he had was his purpose. More than anything Anders wished he could speak with Sareyna. She always listened to him, she never judged him and she always had something useful to add.

What would she think of him now? He was an abomination who had run away from his duty to the Grey Wardens to fight for a cause that more than likely would end in his violent and abrupt death. Would she look on him with the same kindness that she had shown him then? What he wouldn’t give to speak with her about Hawke.

“I love the middle of the night, no better time to reflect on what a mess your life has become and everything you have lost. Maybe if we’re all lucky I really will drown in my self-pity.”

Justice bristled at him again.

“Oh pipe down, I’m just being melodramatic.”

Anders turned on his side and stared at the wood grain pattern of the wall willing himself back to sleep. Sleep was preferable to being haunted by ghosts from his past. He closed his eyes and saw Hawke in his mind.

He liked to imagine her hair loose around her face instead of pinned back at the top and sides, her little smirk gracing her lips and that impish twinkle in her eye. There was a thread of darkness through her that she covered with her smiles and flirtations.

He was pretty sure most of their companions missed it but he could sense it, running through her like an undercurrent threatening to pull those around her under the water to drown with her at any moment. It suited him fine, he found that the pain and loneliness in him responded to her, wanted to drown with her, wanted to be pulled under and tied to her.

They could revel in their madness together. What would it be like to lose himself completely in another? To just let go of the illusion of control and be who he had become? It was a tempting thought. His skin prickled with goose bumps as he pictured her again.

Never had he managed to imagine her without blood splattered on her clothing. Probably because that was how he usually saw her. He imagined kissing her, what her lips would taste like, would she make a sound or would she be quiet. His fingers would twine into her hair, would it be silky or coarse? He could scarcely remember the feel of it. Her eyes would darken and she would move close, fitting her little body against his. Her lids would fall as he slid his arm around her waist and kissed her again. So good, so nice, just the feel of her under his fingers.

_“Stop it. These thoughts are inappropriate.”_

Anders ignored him and instead pictured unbuckling her armor and sliding it off of her. His hand slid down and stroked his hardening length as he pictured her breasts, not too big, not too small and pale as porcelain. Licking the purple scar across her right breast; he could even hear her gasp from the contact and feel the too smooth surface on his tongue.

 _“Anders!”_ Justice’s voice was louder this time, more insistent.

But Anders could almost feel her soft skin as his long fingers slid down over her collar bone…so small, so delicate… and her chest to cup her breast gently. Anders felt a too long forgotten tightening in his groin, and his breathing was coming short and fast. It had been far too long since he had been touched like this, even by his own hand. His body had been starving and screaming with need for over a year, Maker, how that woman tormented him. He pictured the wine color of her nipple as it stiffened from his attention. Gods, the dark color of her nipples in contrast to her alabaster skin was maddening.

Light and dark. Her life reflected in her flesh. He wanted to kiss, to lick every inch of it. Wanted to taste the salt and musk of her body. Wanted to savor the scent of wildness that clung to her skin. He would worship her body with his lips, his tongue. No inch of her would be un-tasted. He would spend a lifetime of devoted worship between her legs. Just a few thoughts, a few images in his mind and already he was so close. He licked his suddenly dry lips as he imagined her arching her back into his touch. “Yes.” He breathed softly.

He was violently dislodged, pushed back in his mind as Justice came forward, furious at having been subjected to such base fantasies. Anders cursed the spirit and struggled against him desperate to regain control, to finish what he had started. He throbbed and ached with unfulfilled need.

He screamed inside knowing this was how he would spend the rest of his life, always aching, always needing but would never know fulfillment. _“I’m not a eunuch, you can’t make me live like this. I need this, I need something.”_

It was Justice’s turn to ignore Anders. He just held his control over Anders until he had gone soft and his desire had ebbed away replace by impotent fury. When Anders finally regained control of his body he was left with nothing but a dull ache and resentment. He pulled his blankets up and resigned himself to spending the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.

********

Sekhmet stood outside of Anders’ clinic; she really didn’t want to go in. When she had awoken today her headache had returned, even now the pounding was so bad it was blurring her vision. And if Anders started in with any of his “bad idea” speeches or complaining about Fenris she just might stab him.

And Fenris…he had come to her this morning with his shy smile and a job. She guessed it was as close as he got to an apology. Was he sorry though? He certainly hadn’t acted like it. In fact, she was sure he would kill Anders in a heartbeat if given the chance.

So when Fenris had finally left she and Bethany had sat down together and talked about everything. Bethany was comfortable traveling with Anders, but not quite so comfortable traveling with Fenris though she would do so if necessary. She absolutely refused to travel with Anders and Fenris at the same time, which meant they were going to be seeing a lot less of Fenris.

She heard a laugh behind her and turned to see Isabela. Could the day possibly get any worse? The leggy pirate strolled up to her with a smile. “Hello Hawke. Here for a social call or are you in need of Anders’…services.”

It was an incredibly annoying talent Isabela had. She could make any word at all sound filthy. Hawke closed her eyes briefly, breathing deeply and reminding herself that killing Isabela was a bad idea…for _some_ reason. There had to be a reason but she just couldn’t think of it right now. “I need him to check an injury from last night. I’m guessing you’re here for his other services.”

Isabela paused beside her, her face becoming more serious. “Ask me later and I’ll probably deny this all. He’s telling the truth. We were never lovers. We were never even alone in a room together. He is an incredibly sensual man though, proud of his body. Which I always think is incredibly sexy in its own right; nothing quite like a confident man. Not to mention he’s tall, great body, fascinating tattoos and hung like…”

Sekhmet had covered Isabela’s mouth with her hand. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

She dropped her hand and Isabela smiled. “I can understand that, not wanting to spoil the surprise.”

“No surprise, we’re friends and that’s all we’ll likely ever be. I just don’t want you telling me about Anders’ cock.” She couldn’t seem to find her sense of humor today and her patience was getting harder and harder to come by.

Isabela gave her an irreverent smile. “Are you sure? It’s really a magnificent…”

Sekhmet walked into Anders’ clinic having had more than enough of Isabela’s mouth. She wanted to let Anders know there was no scar, see if he could get rid of her headache and see if he would be willing to help her out today. Isabela’s laughter followed in after her.

Anders smiled when he saw her and it managed to lift her spirits a little. A moment a later, as she was walking towards him, he scowled. It took her a second to realize he was scowling at Isabela.

He strode towards them, pausing beside her. “Let me get rid of Isabela and then you can have my full attention.”

Without another word he strode away. She rubbed her temple and moved towards the back of the clinic smiling a little to herself. Perhaps it was silly, but the fact that Anders wanted Isabela gone made her feel a bit better. Today might turn out to be halfway decent.

She rifled through her canisters, thinking that she should try to make more time for the clinic. She reminded herself that once she had the money raised she’d be making the expedition to the Deep Roads, which would hopefully turn out to be at least half as lucrative as Varric thought it would. Then she would be free to help in the clinic whenever she wanted.

She winced a little, the pain in her head was getting worse, the throbbing like hammer strikes on an anvil. Her stomach writhed in sympathy, which reminded her she needed more ginger. Maybe she should start keeping some lavender and white willow at the house if these headaches were going to keep plaguing her.

She felt a feather light touch on her temple and sighed with contentment as her headache disappeared. “Thank you, I needed that.”

He rested his hip on the counter next to her. “That’s twice in two days; everything alright?”

She gave him a smile, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He quirked a brow, “I’ve learned never to trust a woman when she says ‘I’m fine’. What’s really going on? Is this about what happened between Fenris and me?”

“No, now would you stop worrying?” She looked around the clinic which was strangely quiet, “Where is everyone?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Something about some kids getting together to do a play they made up or something like that. It’s the only entertainment the Fereldens can afford, being that it’s free.”

“Then maybe you wouldn’t mind closing up and helping me out today.”

“Sure, why not. Let me get changed, I’ll be right back.” He headed back towards his room.

Sekhmet moved closer to his door, which he left open a crack so they could talk. She smiled a little, happy about this little ritual, this little intimacy between them. “You should probably bring your gear; I have no idea where we’ll end up today.”

“Who else is coming along?”

“Beth wants to come and I thought we might take Varric too. Why was there someone you wanted me to bring?” She bit her tongue; she didn’t need to do that. It was insecure and ridiculous.

There was silence for a minute and she thought he was deciding on how to answer. Was he worried about upsetting her? “I was just wondering who was going so I knew how much I would be casting and whether or not to expect my heart to be ripped out. You know the usual.”

She chuckled a little. “No, I think I’m done putting you and Fenris together. I can’t get you both to behave at the same time for the life of me.”

“Listen, I can try harder. I let him wind me up too easily. I always feel like kicking myself afterwards. Maybe not having us work together is better though. I really can’t stand the little jackass. And I suppose it will give me more time for the clinic.”

She smiled as he came out of his room. “Would you be terribly upset if it didn’t really change how much time you spent in the clinic?”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re not bringing Fenris along at all anymore? How did he take it?” His gaze felt like it was pinning her in place as he waited for a response.

“Not exactly, I’m just not taking him along much because I usually need you and I don’t want to be worried constantly that the two of you are going to try to kill each other.” She shrugged a little, almost feeling embarrassed, like her explanation wasn’t enough.

“Fair enough, so where too?” He strapped his pack on followed by his staff.

“Need to round up the other’s first.” Today was definitely looking up.

As they reached the door Anders suddenly stopped, “Oh, hey wait, I didn’t check your wound.”

“Its fine, no scarring. We should get going, unless you were just using that as an excuse to see my breasts again.” She smirked at him a little.

“I’m not really the shy type Hawke, if I wanted to see your tits I’d just ask.” He gave her a small little smile and headed out the door ahead of her.

She felt herself flush and giggled a little, she liked those little unguarded moments of his. It was like taking a peek into his past, into the man he used to be. And the more she knew the more she thought she had been right about him. Sex.On.Legs


	17. Cell Bound

As they walked around the bend Anders saw Cullen or as he was now known, Knight Captain Cullen. Of course they would promote Cullen of all people. And interestingly enough he seemed to be attacking a young recruit. Kid couldn’t have been more than Bethany’s age and looked scared.

“So now the Templars even beat their new recruits, a novel approach. I suppose since beating mages into doing what you tell them has worked so well you’ve decided it should work on recruits too.” Hawke was already clutching both of her daggers.

Anders tried to relax and pushed down Justice’s rage. He thought it might be a good idea to keep Justice in check for a few days after what happened. Justice wasn’t making it easy though, he’d been getting louder and louder since Hawke told him they were looking for a Templar. Anders hadn’t been too keen on the idea either, but Hawke had convinced him to help by telling him they were just looking for a lost kid, not even a full Templar yet. Judging from the young age of Wilmod she’d been right.

Bethany took a step backwards, “Sekhmet, that’s the Knight Captain, shut up, please.” The poor girl looked terrified, just the sight of Cullen striking fear into her.

Cullen turned away from the recruit to look at Hawke, his face looking surprisingly worn. “This is no business of yours, stranger. I suggest you move along.”

Anders expected an angry response from Hawke or at least another snark but she was quiet. She studied Cullen for a few moments before she jerked her head, looking at Wilmod as she took several quick steps backward. He was confused when she looked back to Cullen and raised her voice in warning. “I suggest you move, Templar.”

Cullen opened his mouth again but didn’t manage to get anything out before Wilmod gave a dark and wild laugh all trace of fear evaporating in a blink. A sickly yellowish light swirled around the young man, and Justice growled _“demon”_ in Anders’ head.

As Wilmod’s feet left the ground he hissed at Cullen, “You have struck me for the last time you pathetic human…to me”

Hawke rolled her shoulders and tightened her grip on her blades a little, “Ready yourselves, we’re about to have company.”

He still needed to have a talk with Hawke about how she could possibly detect magic; she always seemed busy whenever he was free though. And now, she’d felt a demon’s presence before even Justice. It was upsetting the spirit enough that he was demanding to know _what_ Hawke was, as if she was not exactly human. Anders ignored him and focused on what was going on around him.

Cullen’s eyes widened in horror as shades, abominations and demons cropped up around them. “Maker preserve us.”

If the fool only knew, he wouldn’t waste his breath. The demons as well as the Wilmod abomination all went down easily and soon it was just the four of them with Cullen again, he refused to call that bastard Knight Captain. He relished Cullen’s confused and horrified face, it was always satisfying to see Templars looking completely lost.

The Templar raked his gauntlet back through his hair staring at the former recruit’s body, “How is this even possible?”

Hawke, darling woman that she was, rolled her eyes at Cullen like he was an idiot. “He was possessed.”

Slowly, Cullen’s eyes pulled from the body and finally looked to Hawke’s face, “We don’t worry about Templars being possessed.”

“Yes, well Templars aren’t known for being particularly smart or rational. As a whole, they make a lot of assumptions. Besides, with half the shit I’ve seen in Kirkwall, nothing really surprises me anymore.” She gave a little shrug even as Bethany inhaled sharply behind them.

Cullen scowled, for a moment he looked as if he was going to argue with her; instead he let out a long slow breath and gave a slight bow, “I am Knight Captain Cullen, I thank you for your assistance. As of late, I have been conducting an investigation regarding several of our recruits who have gone missing. Wilmod was the first to return. I had hoped to confront him quietly out of sight, try to ascertain what was going on.”

Hawke let out a sharp bark of laughter, “So, you had no idea whether there was really a problem or not, but drew your sword on a fresh recruit anyway?”

Anders’ attention started faltering. His head was pounding as Justice screamed and raged wanting to tear Cullen apart. Justice remembered who Cullen was from Anders’ memories of the tower and wanted to punish him for what he considered Anders’ incarceration and mistreatment in the Ferelden Circle. He had to admit, it was tempting to let Justice run riot on the Templar, but they still had a missing boy to find.

Hawke kept looking at him, concern on her face even as she spoke with Cullen, “Do you have any idea where he might have been while he was gone?” Her eyes flicked to him again before looking back at Cullen.

Cullen shrugged, “I thought perhaps he was meeting with some friends who had escaped the Circle. He never really understood that mages cannot be our friends, they must always be watched.”

Anders closed his eyes for a few moments as Justice’s screams devolved into growls and waves of anger that pulsed through him in a staccato rhythm. It would be a miracle if he made it out of here without killing Cullen where he stood. Killing a Templar was one thing, but taking out the Knight Captain of Kirkwall would draw more attention than he was ready for just yet.

Seeing an actual Templar who had been part of Anders’ time in the Circle had Justice beyond anger. As Justice struggled and fought for control his skin began to feel too tight and his sight went a bit hazy. Staying calm was getting harder and harder. Justice’s anger mirrored his own, was created by his own and it was hard to fight its seductive call. He needed to think about something else. A boy, a boy, we’re here to save a boy as young as little Beth. Concentrate, Focus.

Hawke didn’t bother to battle her anger, she snapped at Cullen, “Can’t be our friends? I happen to have mage friends, who I trust with my life.”

Cullen’s eyes swept to Anders for a moment before returning to Hawke. _“Yeah, she’s talking about me you jackass.”_ Part of him wanted to scream it at Cullen, but he couldn’t indulge his anger like that and expect to retain control. It was a close thing as it was.

“Though I suppose if the Chantry ever decided it was against slavery, cruelty and oppression you’d be out of a job, Knight Captain.” His title crossed Hawke’s lips like the vilest of epithets.

Cullen’s jaw tightened and Anders enjoyed the man’s anger. Templars so rarely came across people who were willing to tell them what a bunch of hypocrites they were; this was obviously a new experience for the man. And it seemed Cullen didn’t take criticism well.

His gauntlet closed into a tight fist before he spoke again. “I was at the Circle Tower in Ferelden during the Blight. I saw firsthand how Templar’s trust and leniency can be rewarded.”

Fury swept through Anders burning like a firestorm, licking through his veins like acid. He stepped forward looming over the Templar, “Trust and leniency, _you_ dare use those words? With _me_ standing right here? A year you heartless fuck, a godsdamned year!” The last word came out as a yell with overtones of Justice threaded through it. He felt a small hand on his back, Hawke’s, no doubt meant to soothe him. He drew a deep breath and slowly relaxed back into her touch as he a stepped away from Cullen, who at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Anders?” Hawke’s voice was quiet and sweet.

Her sweet voice, tinged with concern for him made him ache, a gnawing in his chest for what he wanted and couldn’t have. After a moment he was surprised when he realized not only did he fell calmer just from her touch but Justice seemed to have quieted a bit as well. Anders gave her a slight nod to let her know he was alright, Maker knew she had enough to worry about.

Cullen watched the two of them with interest for a moment but Anders didn’t care, or rather he did but he didn’t want Cullen to know he cared. Ever a Templar, he was looking for a weakness he could use against Anders. And if he had one, it was definitely Hawke. If Cullen hurt her Anders would make him pay for it slowly for weeks.

He put the idea out of his head not wanting to squander the curious reprieve from Justice’s angry ranting that Hawke’s concern had afforded him. He was curious why it had affected Justice at all, usually he hated it when Anders was touched and could care less about how people felt about Anders. It was something new he’d have to think about.

Cullen finally spoke again, his voice bordering on tremulous, “I still have nightmares of Uldred’s depravities.” He was still trying to play the victim apparently.

Was the man really that obtuse, that blind? “And how many mages have nightmares of you Cullen?”

He looked shocked, like Anders’ words had never occurred to him. Anders had firsthand experience of Cullen’s enormous capability to turn a blind eye to the worst of Templar behavior, to convince himself that whatever was being done was the right thing. He’d heard from others about Cullen’s cruelty after the Blight.

He’d even heard about the poor girl the Templar had once had a painfully obvious crush on before the Blight and how after the Blight Cullen had terrorized her until she had killed herself. Which was why Anders had been shocked to learn of the man’s transfer and promotion in Kirkwall.

Silence fell over them all for several minutes before Hawke spoke up again. “We were looking for a recruit named Keran, he was Wilmod’s friend. Do you know where we might find him?”

Cullen tore his gaze away from Anders to answer her. He gave a brief shake of his head. “No, I fear he might have met the same fate as Wilmod as they were both last seen together at the Blooming Rose.” He flushed a little, “I’ve had no luck interrogating the …uh…young ladies there. Though, I doubt they know anything of magic or demons.”

Hawke smiled at Cullen, a soft teasing smile. “Hmm, the Rose, I should have no problem speaking with them. Pillow talk can be very productive.”

Anders grit his teeth in an effort to try to keep silent, he didn’t like her smiling at Cullen like that and he liked the idea of her getting answers from pillow talk even less. It surprised him that even the thought of Hawke with another woman was enough to stir jealousy inside of him. “I’m going with you.” The words were sharp, he wasn’t going to argue with her about it, he was going and that was all there was too it.

A look of surprise touched her face for only a split second, “Of course.”

Cullen watched them both for a moment, searching their faces and Anders carefully kept his blank. A skill he hadn’t used in a while, but one that was essential when dealing with Templars. He needed to get his emotions under better control if he was going to convince Cullen there was no leverage to be gained from Hawke.

At length Cullen spoke again, “The Order would appreciate your assistance in this matter.”

Hawke’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not doing this to help you or the Templars. There’s a woman who is scared for her missing brother. I’m helping her.”

Cullen’s look soured, “Nonetheless.”

Hawke scowled at the Knight Captain before she turned to face Anders keeping her voice a quiet whisper, “What do you want to do with him? If he hurt you I’ll gut him and he can sit in a pile of his own intestines while he waits for death to claim him.”

He loved her, he really did, he loved her as much as he hated fate for bringing them together. How could he not love her when she said things like that? And he knew she meant every word of it. “He never touched me, now let’s find the boy.” Maybe letting Cullen live was a mistake, time would tell. Right now all he wanted was to be away from the man.

********

Bethany bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing; somehow she doubted Anders would appreciate it. The moment they stepped inside the brothel he had moved between her and Sekhmet and glared at anyone who even looked at them. Sure, his interests in keeping men away from Sekhmet were personal, but it was his protective nature that had him looking over Bethany. For a moment it was like having Carver back. Although, Carver would have been running his mouth as well as glaring.

Anders apparently didn’t see the humor in his actions though. He caught Varric smirking and snapped at him. “You have something to say, dwarf?”

Varric chuckled, “Not at all, I just had no idea you were so gallant, Blondie.”

Sekhmet paused and turned to look at Anders, “What’s going on?”

His scowl deepened and he answered her brusquely. “Nothing, let’s just take care of this and get out of here.”

Sekhmet nodded and looked briefly around the main room. A plain looking woman with short brown hair walked up to her, “Do you need something honey?”

“I’m looking for information.”

A quick conversation sent them to a room on the second floor belonging to a woman named Idunna. As they entered the room Bethany was nearly overwhelmed with the heavy perfume in the air, it was so sweet it almost made her gag. Anders glanced at Idunna but looked away almost looking bored.

Bethany thought she was kind of pretty, her make-up was a little heavy, but her dress was pretty and her hair looked soft. Her skin was clear and smooth, lighter than her own but darker that Sekhmet’s by far. She noticed her sister fidgeting out of the corner of her eye and looked to see what exactly she was doing.

Sekhmet’s hand fiddled with her armor for a second before she brushed a few hairs off her forehead. Bethany watched her curiously was she primping to meet this woman? She wasn’t the only one that noticed either; Anders was watching her looking as confused as Bethany felt.

He leaned over and whispered to her, “What’s she doing?”

Bethany shook her head and shrugged, she really had no idea.

“She’s not seriously worried about how she looks is she?” He had dropped his voice even lower; she had to strain to hear him.

She didn’t get a chance to answer him because Sekhmet spoke up, “You are Idunna?”

The woman turned unhurriedly to look at the four of them, a slow smile spreading across her over painted lips. “Who’s asking?”

Sekhmet wasn’t looking at Idunna as she spoke, her eyes taking in the room around them instead. “I’m looking for a Templar recruit named Keran, do you remember entertaining him or perhaps his friend Wilmod?”

A long painted fingernail tapped against Idunna’s bottom lip. “Wilmod…Keran…hmm, no I’m sorry. It doesn’t sound familiar, but I do see a lot of men.”

Sekhmet’s gaze finally landed on Idunna, looking as if she were just casually observing her but Bethany knew all her attention was sharply focused now and the smile on her lips was a ruse. “You would think a woman of your trade would want to remember the name of a client as faithful as Wilmod. Just courtesy to remember the man’s name who thinks you’re worth all that repeat business.”

Idunna gave a nonchalant shrug and wandered to sit on the bed. She patted the mattress beside herself, “Surely, there are more interesting things we could be doing.”

“I just want answers, tell me about the boys.” She still sounded friendly but her posture had stiffened a little and Bethany felt herself tensing in response. Long years of working together taught her to pay close attention when Sekhmet became uneasy.

Varric brushed past her and Anders to stand at the end of the bed, his eyes staring adoringly at Idunna. “Hawke, go easy on this lovely creature.”

Idunna gave them a saccharine smile, “You should listen to your friend.”

Sekhmet’s smile disappeared and she growled at Idunna. “I don’t know what it is you’re casting, but you can stop it now. Your magic is thick like fog in here.”

Bethany didn’t even notice it until Sekhmet said something. It was so thick and heavy she wondered how she missed it. She looked to Anders and saw that he was uneasy as well, though whether it was because of the magic or because Sekhmet had sensed it she didn’t know. For some reason Sekhmet’s ability to detect magic bothered him. Beth thought he should be grateful; Sekhmet’s gift saved their lives numerous times.

Idunna looked scared for a moment before she stood again, advancing on the four of them. Anders closed his eyes and turned away for some reason. Varric’s eyes became vacant and a moment later she felt as if she had been wrapped in thick blankets and given a sleeping potion. She felt groggy and out of sorts, her head swimming. She heard Idunna speaking but only vaguely and didn’t feel like she had the energy to look at the woman.

“ I was going to ask you who told you about me, but I see we’ll have to skip the games and get right to wrapping up. So, my white haired darling, do me a little favor.” Bethany heard the rustling of her dress as she moved closer to them but still couldn’t look up from the floor for whatever reason. “Draw one of those wicked looking blades,” the sound of metal being slipped free of its sheath rang through the room.

Bethany’s thoughts felt fuzzy, she knew she should look up to see what was happening but couldn’t seem to compel herself to move. She felt so tired and worn she could barely keep her eyes open. Whatever spell Idunna was using it was surprisingly strong. Her mind barely wrapped around the idea that she was under a spell than the thought was slipping away again.

“Now draw it gently across your your pale little throat.” Idunna’s voice was filled with feigned sweetness.

Silence fell over the room and moments passed slowly. Why couldn’t she make herself move? Was Sekhmet going to hurt herself? Why wasn’t anyone speaking, or trying to stop Idunna? Eventually, her sister made an irritated snarl then another few minutes of silence slipped by. Bethany felt like she was floating above herself.

Her sister’s voice was strained; she was obviously trying hard to fight whatever was happening to her, to all of them. “Bethany,” a long silence and a strangled whimper before she spoke again, “stop her.”

She struggled for a moment but it was no use, she couldn’t move. She almost gave up when she seized onto a thought. _“I couldn’t save Carver, but I can save Sekhmet.”_ Almost immediately she felt the compulsion begin to lighten.

A heartbeat after she grabbed onto that thought she heard Anders grit out next to her. “Please help her Beth.”

It suddenly felt like a heavy weight had been pushed off, a wash of cool air brushed over her clearing her head almost completely. She wasted a half second, astounded at Anders’ strength even in his current state, before she focused her attention on Idunna. She gathered her power focusing on burning away the magic Idunna had cast. She shook with the strain of lifting her arm, “Let…go…of…” a loud crack rang through the room as the spell was broken. Her hand slipped easily through the air as she finished,  
my sister.”

She felt more than saw Anders moving out of the corner of her eye and heard him swear softly, “Holy shit, Beth.”

Sekhmet dropped the hand holding her knife to her throat as Idunna wheeled backwards away from them, stumbling in her rush. She stared at Bethany with wide terrified eyes, “How did you…” she scrabbled even further away from Bethany, “oh shit.”

Sekhmet responded, “You can say that again. You’re in quite of bit of trouble little girl.”

She raised her hands in supplication in front of her face. “Spare me, messere.”

Bethany saw Anders’ eyes flash pale blue beside her. He closed his eyes and walked away from them. She thought about following him to see if he was alright, but he seemed embarrassed when anyone besides Sekhmet saw Justice take over. Varric stood on her other side and flashed her a sheepish smile when she looked at him. Poor guy must have felt guilty about defending Idunna.

Her sister hissed at Idunna, “What foul magic was that?”

Clearly, Bethany’s show of power had cowed Idunna, or at least Bethany hoped that was what did it. Idunna answered all of Sekhmet’s questions including where she had sent Keran and the others as well as how she had enchanted them. Apparently, there was a cabal of bloodmages in the Undercity led by a bloodmage called Tarohne.

And at the end of her questioning Sekhmet was clearly not in a forgiving mood. Idunna begged for her life but was answered with nothing but a sweet smile and a knife between the ribs. As the woman crumpled into a heap on the floor Sekhmet turned away from her already dismissing the woman’s corpse.

Wiping the knife off on her leather she spoke “Let’s get the fuck out of here. We have a boy to save.” She stopped next to Anders who was leaning against the door with his eyes closed. “You okay?”

It was funny how nice Sekhmet always was to him. She was never that nice to anyone and the two of them still ended up fighting half the time. He opened his eyes and nodded before looking at Beth. “That was really impressive work, Beth.”

She shrugged feeling a little self conscious, “You helped.”

He shook his head, “Barely. I was just hoping we could break the spell’s control on you. You broke it’s hold on all of us.” He shook his head in disbelief, “Absolutely amazing.” He looked back to Sekhmet, “Your sister has one heck of an iron will. It must run in the family, eh? Did you girls get that from your father or your mother?”

Bethany smiled, pleased that Anders had been so impressed with her. It meant a lot from him, he was a far more experienced mage than she was, if he was impressed maybe her father hadn’t been just trying to make her feel good about herself when he was teaching her. “From father.”

Sekhmet shook her head, “No, I think it’s a little of each, but let’s talk about it some other time. We should get going.“ They followed her as she strode from the room with quick steps, headed directly for the Undercity, clearly still spitting mad.

********

More shades and abominations as well as rage demons greeted them in Tahrone’s sanctuary. Even still, they made good time clearing it out. As they descended another set of stairs there was a young man held about twelve feet in the air, white light swirling around him seemingly holding him in place. The four of them approached carefully, unsure of what exactly the light was.

“Do you think that’s Keran?” Bethany’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“What have they done to him?” Hawke’s fingers stretched out towards the young man encased in light.

“Hawke, I wouldn’t touch him. We don’t know what kind of spell that might be.” If she became immobile like the young man she might be in danger if they were attacked again. He used a few soft tendrils of magic to feel the edges of the spell and try to discern exactly what spell was holding the poor kid.

His attention was drawn to three people walking casually into the room. Two masked mages and a woman, dressed all in white, even her make-up was a pristine white color. Anders thought she looked mad before she even opened her mouth. He rubbed his neck and took a deep breath. This needed to end soon, Justice was becoming more and more angry about helping a Templar and he didn’t care that the Templar in question was only a boy.

The woman gave a low laugh, “How wonderful for you all to come. We needed more vessels for our experiments.”

“Save your ramblings, just tell me where Keran is.” Hawke moved closer to her, dagger held in front of her ready to strike.

The woman in white ignored Hawke, “Perhaps the demons will find one of you suitable.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Hawke lashed out lightning quick and decapitated the woman. The other mages stared on in horror. “Varric?”

“My pleasure,” rapid fire both mages were struck down with bolts from Bianca.

He was almost disappointed that there was no real fight. It was a testament to how angry Hawke was about the whole situation though. She didn’t even want to hear any excuses or ramblings from anyone. Usually, it took a lot longer for her to get to the point of where she just couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to listen.

As the second mage hit the floor the white light surrounding the young boy disappeared and he tumbled to the ground. Hawke bent and reached out a hand to help the boy up and Justice snarled inside Anders’ head, not even words just the sound of an angry beast He rubbed his temples trying to assuage some of the pain. The spirit was still furious they had been so easily controlled at the brothel.

Anders was just as angry at himself. Hawke had nearly killed herself and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. It kind of put a kink in his whole theory that he travelled with her to protect her, a fact Justice was more than happy to point out between angry rants about helping the Templars.

The boy stood on shaky legs, his eyes clearly frightened, “Is it…is it over or are you more visions?”

Hawke’s face relaxed for the first time in hours, “Are you Keran?”

“Yes, I am Keran.” He glanced down at himself, running his fingers over his chest as if to make sure he was all in one piece.

“Hawke, after the other recruit we met perhaps you don’t want to stand so close to him. What if he’s possessed?” Varric held Bianca, pointing her steadily at the young Templar.

“Varric,” the word was an admonishment but Anders stopped her.

“Actually, Varric has a valid point, step back for a minute; I promise I won’t hurt the boy.” A short blast of spirit magic should determine if he was a danger or not.

Hawke stared at him for a moment, but when he didn’t back down she gave a faint nod and stepped away. “Fine, if you feel it’s necessary.”

He walked closer to the fair haired boy, feeling the kid’s uneasy gaze as he loomed closer. “M…mister?”

As fast as he could he pulled up energy and shot a spirit bolt through the boy’s middle, strong enough to provoke a response from anything that might be residing inside Keran. The boy reeled backwards, hand flying to his chest again before he looked up at Anders with an accusatory expression.

“What was that?” A whine from the would-be Templar.

Anders turned away, “He’s clear, if there was a demon it would have protected itself.” He kept walking until he was behind Bethany and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples again. He knew rubbing them wouldn’t relief the pressure and pain of Justice’s angry screams but it was habit. _"Justice please, we’re almost done."_ The damned spirit didn’t seem inclined to listen.

“Go find your sister Keran, she’s worried for you.” Hawke gave him a small smile.

“What about the Templars? What will you tell them? I worry what they might do to me. Please don’t tell them.” He voice was tinged with fear once again.

“I have to tell them something Keran. People’s lives might be in danger.”

Keran looked hurt but he turned and ran from the sanctuary without another word. He obviously wanted out of the pit he had suffered in for Maker knew how long. Hawke re-sheathed her weapons and bent to go through the pockets of the three dead mages.

Anders needed to get back to his clinic; he could barely see straight his head throbbed so badly from Justice’s non-stop barrage. The issue of speaking to the Templars needed to be addressed though. “Do you really need to speak to the Templars? Cullen said Wilmod was the first to return and he’s dead. We’ve come across no other recruits and we verified that Keran is demon free.”

“Don’t you think they need to know? What if there were others but Cullen just didn’t realize it?” She stood, wiping her hands on her armor before turning to look at him.

Anders blinked clutching his head as Justice screamed that Hawke was still helping the Templars, that the day hadn’t been about just saving a boy. Justice was enraged and trying to get through. He couldn’t even respond to Hawke, the words couldn’t seem to get past his lips. Justice had worn him down. Fighting him all day had been a nightmare and now he was going to lose his hold.

Hawke seemed oblivious to his internal struggle, walking past the others to stand just a couple feet in front of him. “I have to tell the Templars about the blood mages and what they did. If Templars are possessed by demons people’s lives are in danger including mages.”

He tried to see her reasoning, logically it made sense but all he could think about was that Meredith would clamp down even harder on mages and the Tranquil would gain more emotionless zombies to their deadened throng. He was losing control of his temper and control in general. His skin shimmered blue and he stepped away from Hawke, he was going to lose this one. “Hawke,” he ground out, voice already tinged at the edges with Justice’s rich baritone. “You need to get out of here.”

Confusion crossed her face, “Anders, are you alright?” She closed the gap between them.

Justice’s fury was carrying him away on a strong current. Anders’ control slipped and with his last moment of control he shouted at Hawke, his voice more Justice than Anders, “Get away from me!” And that was it, he slipped into blackness, Justice was so completely in control that he couldn’t even see what was happening for several minutes.

********

The flash of blue fire that heralded Justice’s arrival was hot this time instead of cool. She barely had the chance to process that before she felt his burning fingers clamp around her throat, searing her flesh. “He never should have trusted you. You conspire with the Templars.”

She heard Varric fire Bianca and caught the quick shimmer of blue before the bolt fell harmlessly to the floor. Justice had put up a shield. Right on the heels of the bolt a blast of fire jetted around them, flowing harmlessly around the shield.

Justice snarled like an animal, magic coiling around his arm. Her heart was pounding, that was Anders’ lightning coiling and sparking around his arm now and it was stronger than anything she had ever felt Anders cast.

She yanked at his hand around her throat and screamed as loud as she could, “Varric, get her out of here right now!”

“Hawke…”

She cut him off, “Now!”

Bethany screamed, her voice full of fear, “No Sekhmet, I won’t go.” But Varric was already pulling her towards the door.

“Come on Sunshine, don’t make me carry you out of here.”

Sekhmet was still struggling against Justice’s grip. She didn’t see it but she heard an angry yell followed by the noise of two people hitting the floor just a split second just before Justice let loose his spell. The air hissed and crackled around her. She nearly screamed when a peripheral crackle hit her in the side.

Justice’s fingers, still as hot as a brand, clenched digging deeper into her throat, almost completely cutting off her air supply as he started lifting her off her feet. She clutched onto his arm with both hands trying to relieve some of the strain to her neck and jaw.

Bethany was sobbing from somewhere behind her, “Anders, that’s Sekhmet you don’t want to hurt her. Stop him Anders, please.”

The hair on her arms stood up as Justice started gathering power for another bolt of lightning. She’d never been this close to him when Justice was in control. Heat baked off his body, which was odd, she didn’t remember Anders’ body getting hot like this in the past when Justice took control. The sheer amount of magic washing over her body was astonishing, she’d never felt anything like it. If Justice wasn’t looking to punish her or possibly kill her she might have even liked it.

She kicked him and jerked her arms trying to get free or at least to get his grip loose enough that she could warn Varric and Bethany. But she couldn’t get his grip loosened even a little bit. He barely seemed to be noticing her at all.

From behind her she heard Varric speak softly, his voice strained. “Sorry about this Sunshine.” Glass broke and she realized he had used one of his flasks to daze her sister so he could get her out of there and to safety, away from her and Justice. “I’ll keep her safe, Hawke.” His heavy tread moved quickly away as he spoke.

Justice was apparently content to let them go, he released the power he had been building for another lightning spell. Now that Bethany was safe it was time to concentrate on Justice. Her life might be pointless but she wasn’t ready to die just yet. Not when Bethany still had no protection against the Templars.

She planted one of her feet against his hip then pulled the other foot back and nailed him square between the legs. He didn’t even react. She tried to rasp out his name, tried to focus him, to bring his attention to her to get him to think and not just blindly strangle her in anger. “Jus…tice.” His fingers tightened again and now she couldn’t breathe at all.

A cruel smile curled on Justice’s lips and she realized she couldn’t try to spare Anders anymore. It would likely cost her life if she did. She kicked at him, foot still planted in his hip for leverage. Using her right hand she grabbed her dagger from its sheath on her back. Justice’s eyes glittered dangerously. She closed her eyes repeating to herself _“Not Anders, not Anders, he’s not Anders.”_ She plunged the dagger into his chest, high and to the right, not a killing blow, but close.

She opened her eyes to see that Justice’s expression hadn’t even changed. She wanted to laugh, she was going to die, killed by the man she was in love with, which in her life made perfect sense. _“Coming to see you soon Carver so you can tell me how worthless I am, how I couldn’t even save you or make Bethany safe.”_

She yanked her dagger downwards and kicked at him again, he was like a column of steel, his body not giving at all. For just a moment she thought she had seen a flash of emotion in his eyes, a look filled with anguish but then it was gone. It was hard to focus, her lungs were burning and she could feel consciousness slipping away.

She dragged downward on the dagger one last time, her legs still, too weak to move. She was ready to die she decided, Varric would protect Bethany. In truth, she had been ready for years. She was tired and ready to be with papa, she missed him so much. She could tell him about the man she loved and the spirit that possessed his body that had killed her.

Her vision dim and fading she raised her fingers to her mouth and placed a soft kiss on them before touching them to Justice’s cheek. His eyes flared bright but she hardly noticed. She dropped her hands and closed her eyes trying to focus on ignoring the burning in her lungs and her body’s need to fight back. She welcomed the darkness.

Her body was falling, was this what death felt like? The illusion shattered when she hit the ground, her legs folding awkwardly under her before she fell backwards. The hard floor hurting her upper back as it slammed into the ground and finally her head smacked against it sending pain though her head and neck.

She heard a loud grunt followed by a short bark of pain. Metal hitting the ground and a rustle of clothes then long fingers were brushing her hair from her face, Anders’ soft, gentle fingers. She wanted to open her eyes and look at him, to see for herself that his eyes were no longer glowing blue, but couldn’t seem to pry them open. And really there was no need to, Justice would never touch her with the kind of tenderness that Anders did.

“Maker’s breath, Justice was killing you and you give him a kiss? You’re crazy, you know that?” Cool magic washed over her body soothing her pains and pushing away the fog in her mind.

She took long slow breaths, for some reason she didn’t feel like moving. Warm, soft lips pressed against her forehead.

“Open those pretty blue eyes, please.” The words were murmured against her forehead as he pulled away.

She opened them, blinking several times. Anders’ warm brown eyes were watching her. They were glistening with tears and a wet track down his cheek showed he’d been shedding those tears. He was bleeding from where she stabbed Justice, the wound clearly not healed. Slowly, she sat up, still feeling a bit dazed. He backed away from her as if he were afraid to be near her.

“You’re bleeding.” It was the only thing she could think of to say. She felt confused about what had just happened. Anders had been afraid Justice would hurt her; he’d tried to warn her away. And obviously he’d wrested back control and saved her, but Justice wore Anders’ face. She felt numb about the whole thing, not mad or worried just kind of blank, like _“oh, so that happened.”_ There was no emotion attached to it.

“Are you still hurt? Did I miss anything?” He seemed to be having a hard time looking at her.

“I’m tired and a little out of sorts, but no other injuries.” She gestured to the blood soaking the front of his coat. “Heal that, will you, before you bleed to death?”

His eyes slipped closed and his hand hovered over his chest as he healed it. When he finished Hawke pushed to her feet, walking the few steps to pick up her dagger. Her stomach did a little flip and her chest tightened. It was Anders’ blood coating the blade, the blood of the man she loved and had stabbed. Pushing the thought away she wiped the blood off on her leathers before slipping the blade back into its sheath.

“Guess I should be glad you used your right hand. If it had been your left I’d be dead for sure.” His voice was tight and so sad it made her heart ache.

“I missed on purpose.” She murmured then headed for the door. She needed to let Varric and Bethany know that she was alright.

“You can’t pretend this didn’t happen. I nearly killed you.” Such anguish in his voice.

She paused but didn’t turn to look at him. “No, Justice tried to kill me. You tried to warn me and then ended up saving me.”

“Talk to me.” It killed her to hear him begging.

She was so damned tired she just wanted to sleep for a month. She couldn’t deny Anders though, especially when he sounded so heartbroken. “We can talk, just not here. Let’s go to your clinic, okay?”

“Alright.”

She started walking out not waiting to see if he would follow, she knew he would. He wouldn’t be happy until he had spent a good hour explaining in detail that she should stay away from him. They both knew it was pointless. She was convinced he could learn to control Justice better if he just wasn’t so scared all the time and Anders was of course convinced that the rest of his life needed to be filled with loneliness and self-flagellation.

“Hey, I thought we were going to the clinic?” Anders sped up and was now striding beside her.

“We will, but first I need to see Bethany and Varric and let them know everything is fine.” Bethany would hit the roof if Sekhmet didn’t go to her immediately.

Anders’ steps slowed, “Maybe I should wait in the clinic.”

“No, you’re going with me to show them everything is fine. Let’s just wrap this up, then I promise, I’m all yours.” She jogged up the steps, trying not to break out into a run. She hoped Bethany had been wise enough to stay with Varric and hadn’t run home to tell their mother what happened.

“Hawke,” Anders tone was admonishing and she really didn’t want to hear it.

She turned and shoved him against the wall of the stairwell. “You want to talk to me, want to rehash every single detail of what happened then you come with me. I have no interest in watching you put yourself through a self-torture session Anders. We’re friends though and if you need to talk, then fine we’ll talk as long as you want, about anything you want, _when_ we’ve let Bethany and Varric know we’re alright and have given the Templars a heads up about their recruits possibly being possessed.”

“I don’t think going to the Gallows right now is a good idea for me.” His eyes darkened and he turned his head away from her as he spoke.

She watched him for a moment, confused. He didn’t sound like he was pleading like he had before, or even angry so why wouldn’t he look at her. “Anders?”

His eyes slipped closed like he was in pain, “What?” He growled before taking a deep breath and slowly opening his eyes.

“Are you still hurting? I didn’t push you that hard, did I?” She was frustrated with him, but had no desire to hurt him.

He slid along the wall a little until he could turn and head back up the stairs, “No, I’m fine. Do you think they’ll be at The Hanged Man?”

“Probably,” she walked behind him trying to figure out if he was just upset with her, or if he was lying and was still in pain. She watched him closely and as they reached the top of the stairs he tried to subtly adjust himself and she laughed.

Anders cringed but kept walking.

She caught up to him, “Well, that’s certainly interesting.”

He didn’t respond or slow down.

“So, we can’t pretend Justice trying to kill me didn’t happen, but pretending me shoving you against the wall didn’t turn you on is fine? That hardly seems fair, or any fun.” She waited for a response but still didn’t get one, unless you counted him quickening his pace. “If you need a woman to rough you up to get you in the mood, I’m more than happy to oblige, Anders.”

He stopped and looked at her, scowling with a muscle twitching along his jaw, in other words he was furious…again. “Just because it’s the only way _you’ve_ managed to get me aroused doesn’t mean I _need_ it.”

She felt like he’d slapped her. Her cheeks flamed red and couldn’t stop it. It was her turn to turn away and rush ahead. She headed for The Hanged Man, wanting nothing more than to disappear and be left alone. Her eyes stung and she realized she was on the brink of crying. She really was pathetic. 

“Hawke, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” His voice was soft, all traces of anger gone. 

She forced herself to laugh and kept her voice light. “No need to apologize. I crossed the line.” 

“You were just teasing.” He fell into step beside her again. 

She kept moving, taking deep breaths to keep herself calm. “Let’s just forget it. Besides, we’re almost at the tavern. We don’t want to still be arguing when we find Beth and Varric. They might take it the wrong way.” 

So they walked into Varric’s rooms with smiles on their faces. Bethany jumped out of the chair she had been sitting in and ran across the room, almost tackling Sekhmet. Varric was silent as he watched them for several long seconds. Sekhmet glanced up and gave him a nod to let him know she was fine. 

The dwarf seemed to finally relax and walked across the room and clapped Anders on the back. “Feeling more like yourself now are we?” 

Before he could answer Sekhmet chimed in, “Everything is fine, turns out Justice is just jealous of all the time I’ve been spending with Anders. He wanted to make sure he had my undivided attention. I had to promise him several sexual favors to be redeemed at the time and place of his choice, but he’s happy now.” 

Varric laughed but Bethany gave her a look that spoke volumes. And though Anders didn’t say anything he shut his eyes and sighed in obvious frustration. She didn’t want things to be awkward between anyone so she realized she had to get things rolling, get things back to as normal as possible as quickly as possible. 

“Now that you two have finished lazing about, how about we get to the Gallows and let them know what we found. The sooner we’re done dealing with them the better.” She left the room not giving anyone a chance to argue. 

******** 

Anders walked up to Hawke as she stood at the front of the ferry. He’d finally managed to tactfully get away from Varric who had been trying very hard to act like everything was normal. The dwarf had a hard time keeping his gaze off the large bloodstain on the front of Anders’ coat. Bethany had gradually relaxed and had even interjected a few times, but Varric was clearly not as alright with everything that happened as he tried to pretend. It was almost a relief to have at least one person who wasn’t able to so easily pretends fine, that nothing had changed. 

"Have you thought about what you’ll say to Cullen?” He didn’t want to fight with her, especially not after what he’d done to her, but it wasn’t like he could stop worrying about mages. 

She gave him a small smile which was surprisingly genuine. “Is this your subtle way of telling me my normal sparkling personality might not be the best approach?” 

He thought about it for a second wondering how exactly to phrase it, at length he nodded, “I think an attempt at humor would just upset him and end up making things worse for the recruits as well as the mages. I think straight forward without too much detail would be the better option.” 

“Sadly, I can promise nothing. As you have no doubt noticed, my mouth often runs without my consent.” She looked at him guiltily. 

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re so damn cute then.” It immediately got the response he had been hoping for. She smiled at him small white even teeth, purple painted lips and all, a smile showing her pleasant surprise. He was glad to have made her smile, but didn’t want to get into another disagreement about what could never be. So, before she had a chance to respond he gestured to the dock, “We’re ready to dock, let’s go.” 

She looked like she would say something but just nodded and headed off the ferry. He followed her off the ferry and took a deep breath though his nose trying to steel himself for entering the Gallows. At least he had that smile to hold onto, something he could picture to try to keep calm. As they crossed through the gate and into the courtyard each step became increasingly difficult. 

There were Tranquil everywhere selling goods and cleaning the area. Templars were stationed throughout, like the Gallows was a military installation. Each mage he saw that was not Tranquil walked with quickened steps, eyes cast down at their feet giving the Templars a wide berth. 

Thankfully, Justice was still quiet after his attack on Hawke. He was lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out why Hawke had kissed him while he was strangling the life out of her. But, Anders didn’t need Justice to be angry at what he saw. Was there ever a clearer example of oppressed mages? 

“Ser Cullen, I’m afraid I have some good news as well as some bad news.” Hawke nodded to Keran when the boy turned at the sound of her voice. 

Cullen’s gaze flicked to Anders and his expression darkened before he turned back to Hawke. “What did you find?” 

She gestured to the young recruit, “Obviously, we found Keran and he is fine. However, there is a chance other recruits might be possessed like Wilmod was.” 

A young woman he figured was likely Keran’s sister looked at Keran her eyes going wide. She took several steps backwards away from her brother, “Possessed…by demons?” 

Keran turned to her, worry etched on his young face. The poor kid had been through the Void and back and now his own sister was looking at him with fear. “I’m sorry Masha, I didn’t want to tell you so you wouldn’t worry.” He turned and looked at Hawke, “Thank the Maker for you messere, those mages see the rest of us as ants to be crushed. I don’t think they’ll stop until the Templars and the Chantry are destroyed forever.” 

Anders watched Hawke’s whole posture change. She stood taller, her shoulders pushed back and it looked like her muscles tensed, like she was ready to pounce. He even thought he heard her grinding her teeth for a brief second. “Your precious Templars have caged, tortured and heaped abuses far worse on mages for a thousand years. Is it any wonder they want to see the end of their tormentors?” 

Cullen’s heavy footsteps resounded on the stone around them as he moved closer to Hawke, standing almost nose to nose with her, or rather chest to nose, as she was so much shorter than Cullen. Did the man have a death wish? As careful as Hawke and her companions were the Templars still knew Hawke was a very dangerous woman. 

“How can you possibly say that after what you’ve seen and heard today? These mages,” The word a curse on his lips, “cannot be treated like people. No matter what you think, they are not like you and me.” 

_Keran’s sister, Masha, looked at Cullen with shock on her face. “Surely that’s a little harsh.”_

_Anders more than a little surprised to find an ally in the sister of a Templar._

Bethany, stepping forward and clamping her hand onto Hawke’s shoulder, dragged his attention to the Hawke sisters again. The younger Hawke’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Sekhmet, please don’t argue with the Templar, not here of all places.” 

But the fire in Hawke’s eyes didn’t die, if anything it blazed brighter. 

Cullen tried again to sway her, “Mages are not people. They are weapons, created for destruction. They have the power to raze a city to the ground in a fit of pique. Weapons that deadly must be kept in check.” 

Anders watched Hawke clench her fists. Would she lose her temper completely and behead the Knight Captain as she did so many other Templars. He almost hoped she would. He glanced around them quickly trying to determine the fastest and safest route out if they should need to run. They were formidable together, but he doubted even the four of them could take on all the Templars in the tower. 

“Take a look around you. Mages are humans and elves just like the rest of us. They deserve the same courtesy and respect that,” she reached out and poked Cullen in the chest to emphasize her words, the metal of his armor made a faint noise as she did “you do. They cure the sick and heal the injured; they create things that make our lives easier. The protect us against all sorts of disasters including the Blight. And how do you repay them? You lock them in cages until the next time you need them to save you.” She spit on the ground at his feet. 

Cullen had watched her whole tirade with his mouth gaping open. 

_“Still think she’s working with Templars, Justice?”_ The spirit was silent but Anders was sure that he got the message all the same. 

Cullen suddenly regained himself. His haughty air firmly back in place, his words and tone were beyond condescending. “Many people may go their whole lives thinking that, but if even one in ten mages falls to the lure of blood magic they could destroy this world.” He turned towards Keran as if to speak but Hawke stopped him again. 

“The Qunari could destroy the world, an Exalted March can destroy world and nearly has in the past. Even an army of ordinary men can destroy the world. And, just how many mages do fall to the lure of blood magic? One in one hundred, less? How many of those who turn to blood magic do so after you have caged and tormented them?” Her voice hadn’t gotten any louder but with each word her voice became sharper and sharper, the sound of it hurting Anders’ ears. 

Even so he was astounded at her restraint. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Bethany’s hand was still clamped onto her shoulder, the girl’s knuckles white from how hard she was gripping Hawke. 

Cullen started to speak and stopped several times, Anders thought it was probably safest if the Knight Captain just kept his mouth shut. Hawke was on the verge of snapping, in fact Anders was more than a little surprised that even sweet Bethany still had any sway with the elder Hawke. If Hawke had been a mage she would have been sparking. Eventually the man seemed to give up on trying to convince Hawke to his way of thinking and instead turned his attention to Keran once more. 

He approached the young recruit, probably glad to be away from Hawke’s rage. “Keran, I fear I must strip you of your commission immediately unless it is proven that you are free of demons.” 

His sister clutched Keran’s arm, her nails digging deep into the sleeve of his uniform, “No, please ser, you can’t really think that he’s possessed. He’s fine; he’s safe look at him.” 

Bethany, to Anders astonishment released Hawke and stepped forward moving close to the Knight Captain. “Keran deserves mercy, what happened to him wasn’t his fault.” 

The young recruit looked like he was ready to cry, “Please ser, I tried to resist, I never took anything they offered. I…I need this position or my sister can’t eat. I’ve been training for five years.” 

Cullen seemed to think it over for a minute before turning to look at Hawke. Anders bit his tongue, it was funny, the Knight Captain had been arguing with her only moments before and now he was looking to her for advice? What was the man playing at? 

She used a civil tone, but by her rigid posture she was still furious with the Knight Captain. “Keran isn’t possessed. We conducted tests on him to be sure, so it’s safe for him to stay in the order. And Bethany is right; he deserves a little mercy and compassion.” 

Cullen gave her a sour look, was he seriously disappointed that she disagreed with him? He wasn’t really surprised was he? “I hesitate to ask what methods you could have possibly used that you are so certain. However, you have done much for the Templars by stopping the activities of these blood mages. So, I shall heed your request. If Keran has shown no signs of demonic possession in ten years time, he will become eligible for full knighthood.” 

Hawke snapped at him, “Ten years? That’s not necessary and you know it. There is no sound reasoning behind an arbitrary number that far in the future. He’s not possessed. Why are you punishing him? Is it because he was kidnapped and subjected to torture and therefore might feel some compassion for others in the same circumstance? Or perhaps it’s because he had the audacity to seek the company of a woman?” Hawke shook her head, gritting her teeth in obvious frustration. 

“Serrah Hawke, the fact that I am allowing Keran to stay at all is by-passing some major rules of the order. If there is even the slightest chance that he could be possessed he should be discharged immediately. In this situation I need to be prudent. Besides, this is not really any of your concern.” Cullen, of course, made a big show of his explanation, as if it were a child he were speaking to rather than a group of adults. 

Anders watched Hawke to see if she would push the issue but she didn’t. She just gave a heavy sigh and started to move away. As angry and frustrated as she was, he wasn’t sure if talking with her now was such a good idea. Though, it might make it easier to tell her they couldn’t work together anymore. He pushed the thought away for now, it just hurt too much and he would have time to dwell, time to ache later, after he’d told her. 

Masha hurried after her. “Serrah, I just wanted to thank you for saving my brother, but without a full knighthood Kerran gets paid so little, I cannot reward you as you deserve.” 

Cullen pushed her gently aside, arrogant and authoritative, “I will handle that miss.” He loosened a pouch on his belt and pulled out several coins. He quickly dropped them into Hawke’s hand, “You have done the order a great service, we will not forget it.” 

Hawke tucked the coins into her own coin purse without responding. She turned on her heel and headed out of the Gallows. Bethany and Varric were both quick to follow but Anders held back for a moment. He and Cullen stood watching each other for another minute before Cullen spoke. 

“You know we’ll find you sooner or later, Anders.” Cullen’s eyes glared fire at him. 

He gave the Templar a smile, “Not if I find you first.” 

Cullen shook his head, “Your magic is useless against me, I would not risk it if I were you.” 

There was no need to let the Templar know that he didn’t necessarily need magic to beat him. “I’ll be seeing you Knight Captain.” He turned away with a smirk heading back to where the ferry awaited. He climbed back on and Hawke waived him over. 

“Did you have fun playing with the Knight Captain?” Hawke’s voice was as sweet as the smile she tilted up to him. She always had a smile for him, even after he had nearly killed her. 

Which was yet another reason to stay far from her, but for now, “One does not play with Cullen. Did I enjoy making him wonder a little? Yes, immensely.” He gave her a smile, small but genuine. 


	18. The Rounds

Sekhmet walked into Anders’ clinic, Anders on her heels. He’d walked behind her the whole way from Gamlen’s like he was afraid she was going to bolt. His footsteps were heavy behind her, the weight of what had happened between them obviously dragging on him. She just wanted him to get everything out so they could move on. Now they both knew that no matter what was going on if it involved helping Templars in anyway she needed to leave Anders behind. And they would have to work more on Anders’ control, nothing that couldn’t be overcome with time and practice.

Thoughts of her sister intruded briefly before she turned to face Anders. Bethany had been less than pleased when Sekhmet had told her she was going with Anders, alone, for a while. She knew Beth was worried, but despite what had happened she knew Anders wouldn’t willingly hurt her or put her in harm’s way. 

If he thought he was going to lose control of Justice again he wouldn’t want to be near her at all. She pushed thoughts of Bethany and the frightened look on her face out of her mind. She needed to be completely focused on Anders right now. He needed her. 

She sat on a cot and crossed her arms waiting for Anders to speak. This was his show; she wasn’t sure what she could say. She was still a bit rattled from their angry encounter, not afraid, but confused. So she sat silently and watched her tall, troubled mage. He paced around for a few minutes alternately clasping his hands behind his back and fiddling with his belts. His scowl looked as if it was becoming permanent. Her sulky mage was winding himself up for a dragon sized fit of self torment.

She stood and walked to him, it was killing her to see him so obviously hurting. She reached for his shoulder, her fingers burrowing slightly into the soft grey feathers. She needed to touch him, to reassure him that she wasn’t afraid of him. “Anders, it’s all right.”

He looked at her hand, his brows furrowing before looking at her face, his scowl deepening, “Would you stop defending me all the time? I’m dangerous, I nearly killed you. Maker, Hawke, how can you just act like nothing happened? It’s not safe for me to be around people, I need to leave the city, get away from anyone I could hurt.”

She took her hand away; it was obvious he really didn’t want her touch. She made sure to hold his gaze though. “That’s not the answer and you know it. You can’t just give up; you can’t let Justice take everything from you. You’re stronger than that.” Couldn’t he see that himself?

His face changed, the scowl gone, his eyes became so lost looking it made her ache. He took a shaky breath, “No I’m not; if I was stronger he never would have touched you.” He reached for her face, his fingers caressing her cheek; he spoke with such a longing in his voice.

She cradled his hand against her cheek; she needed his touch, it soothed the ache inside her, pushed away the shadows, eased her doubts, it was the only time she didn’t feel the great empty chasm inside of herself trying to pull her in. Her eyes sought his out again, did this man have any idea how much she needed him, how much every moment since she met him seemed brighter, focused? For some reason being with him healed the wound in her chest, something time…even nearly four years, hadn’t been able to do. And when he looked at her like this, touched her like this she couldn’t help but wish for the feel of his lips on hers. “Anders,” she loved the sound of his name, the feel of it on her lips.

He gave her a sad little smile, “Beautiful and dangerous, I’m not sure who the bigger threat to my sanity is, you or Justice.” He pulled his hand away from her cheek capturing her fingers and kissing them each softly, “Go home Hawke, leave me to the torments I’m used to and forget about me.” He released her hand and started to turn away from her.

She gripped his coat, crushing it so hard in her hands her fingers ached. Her heart raced with need. She needed him, needed at least a piece of him in her life. She didn’t want to go back to the angry ghost she’d been before she’d met Anders. She hadn’t even realized how hollow she had become until she had started healing under Anders’ gentle gaze. “No, I don’t want to forget about you and I’m not leaving.” He was doing it again, the soft touches, the smile- letting down his guard, letting her in just the tiniest bit then slamming the door in her face again.

His eyes squeezed shut as he peeled her fingers from his coat, “Enough, this has been going on for too long. I can’t pretend that I’m a man like any other, even if you can. I know better.” She could hear steel creeping into his voice.

Why was he doing this? Why bring her all the way back here just to tell her to go away? “Stop it, it was just a setback. We agreed to be friends so talk to me.” Gods, did that whiney voice belong to her? 

“Get out, Hawke.” His eyes were open but he looked out over her head, not meeting her eyes before he turned away from her and headed for the back of the clinic.

“If you’re going to give me the kiss off at least look at me when you do it.” She was holding out hope that he couldn’t, that he would capitulate and at least talk to her.

He remained silent until he reached the door to his room. He pulled it open quickly then paused. “I hope life is good to you.” He crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him.

Humiliation flooded her. He’d just left her standing there and casually dismissed her. For a moment she thought she might cry, but it passed quickly and she was quickly swamped with the emotion that had always served her well in the past, had kept her afloat and functioning, anger, blood red and lava hot scorching through her veins. 

“You fucking coward!” She screamed, her voice reverberating through the clinic. She kicked over one of the cots, “You’re right, you’re not a man. Men deal with their problems they don’t run away and hide.” Briefly, she thought about kicking his door in, forcing a confrontation but decided she had wasted enough time and effort on him. 

Instead, she headed back to Gamlen’s. Hopefully, she could settle herself enough to get a bit of sleep. Preferably, sleep without dreams. A little oblivion sounded pretty good right about now. And if the gods were good the lava flowing through her would harden around her heart when it cooled and protect her from these kinds of mistakes in the future. 

********

Sekhmet’s foot swirled in the water slowly the coolness of it heavenly against her skin. Another hot and humid day had her wishing for Ferelden’s mountains. Of course the heat wasn’t the only reason she was thinking of the Frostbacks. She’d felt numb for days since the incident in Anders’ clinic. She hadn’t bothered to go back to help out with the patients. He wanted nothing to do with her, so she would oblige him. Now she just wanted to be alone. A few weeks wondering the mountains sounded lovely. 

“So, trouble with your man already?” Aveline’s voice jolted her from her thoughts.

She pulled her leg from the water and reached for her sock and boot. “I don’t have a man, Aveline.”

Aveline settled down beside her, “Don’t get up on my account. Things have been pretty quiet down here.” She gave Hawke a smile, “And you don’t need to hide a man from me just because he’s a mage, Hawke.”

She laced her boot slowly, “Not hiding him, there’s just nothing going on.”

Aveline’s sharp eyes looked her over carefully. “You’re serious? But the way the two of you watch each other. Or are you both completely oblivious?”

She sighed heavily, “No, not oblivious. I thought we had something but, well it seems he’s not interested in me or my company.”

“He’s interested and more than just a little. Then again it has been ages since I was courted by anyone. I could be completely wrong.” Absently, the guardswoman opened a small pouch on her belt and tossed a piece of jerky to Tyr. 

Hawke chuckled, “Keep spoiling him like that and he’ll be following you home.” Aveline was a pleasant distraction. The women weren’t really friends, but Sekhmet respected her and knew Aveline was an honest woman. “So any more information on when they’re making you Captain?”

A wry smile touched the guard’s lips. “Close to four months, most of which is learning the necessary paperwork. I swear they go through more parchment in a week then the whole of Cailan’s army did in a month.” 

“So, no going back to wherever you called home before the Blight then? Becoming a real Kirkwaller?” She couldn’t manage a smile; none of them would ever be considered real Kirkwallers, in all likelihood that would take generations with the stodgy city.

Aveline’s face became a little drawn, a gentle sadness settling over her. “No, once Wesley found me at Ostagar there was never any going back for either of us.”

Sekhmet thought that was a little strange, “He was that upset about the Blight?”

“No, he failed to follow orders so he could come find me. He was so sure we were all going to die that he wanted to be with me at the end. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or slap him when he found me. It all seems so long ago now.” Her eyes traveled out over the water, refracted sunlight lighting up her pretty freckled skin.

“What orders could he have disobeyed that would have prevented his return to the Templars? He could be punished and then move on couldn’t he, possibly with a new, less important assignment?” She didn’t really know how the order worked but it couldn’t be all that different from a civilian army.

“During the Blight there was a problem at the Circle. Wesley had been sent to Denerim for the Right of Annulment, instead he came to find me at Ostagar leaving the Templars to their fate.” She shrugged a little.

“It couldn’t have been all that bad, the mages fought with the Hero in Denerim. I imagine the battle would have gone very differently if the Templars had received approval to murder all the mages.” It was almost funny, in a way a Templar had saved the mages.

“The Right is only called for in the direst of circumstances. It is not murder!” Aveline’s voice had turned sharp and she glared at Hawke angrily.

Hawke felt renewed anger bloom in her own stomach, she wasn’t sure she was pleased to be dragged out of her numbed state. “Well the Right was called for but never received or executed and the mages were just fine to fight with the Hero. Obviously, it was not the _direst_ of circumstances if they all turned out fine. And what kind of stupid policy is this Right anyway? Killing an entire Circle of mages, innocent or not, is ridiculous and it _is_ murder. It would be the same as Cailan ordering everyone in the Bannorn killed because of the actions of one Bann.”

Aveline jumped to her feet. “Those are two completely different circumstances, Hawke.”

Hawke jumped to hers as well. “Why? Aren’t they both killing people based more on location than actual guilt?”

Aveline ground her teeth and sighed. “Let’s not argue. This is something we will never agree on. With my husband and your family we come from opposite sides. Regardless, it was good to see you. I should get back to my rounds.” She turned and walked away, her boots thudding heavily on the stone.

Aveline could be exhausting at times; sometimes it seemed rules were more important to her than the people they affected. Even as much as the guard cared for Bethany she seemed perfectly fine with the thought of the younger Hawke being locked up in the Gallows. She was a good woman, strong and loyal. She honestly believed in the laws and in the Templars. And that was what was so frustrating.

Shaking her head Sekhmet turned and walked in the opposite direction, Tyr at her side. There had to be something else she could be doing today. She should check in with Merrill, it had been a couple weeks since she had seen her. It wouldn’t hurt to visit Fenris either, the man needed constant reassurance. And Varric had mentioned a few prospective jobs he wanted to discuss with her. It would be easy enough to while away the day and forget about Anders and her little spat with Aveline for a while.

********

Her visit to Merrill was short by necessity. Varric thought Merrill was adorable in a naïve sort of way but Sekhmet just found her tiring. Merrill’s apologizing for everything and constantly putting herself down made Sekhmet feel like she constantly had to reassure the elf. Insecurities were fine, who didn’t have them? But announcing them constantly…who did that?

The elf’s place was warm and dry, neat even. Being outcast, or whatever it was, by the Dalish had to be difficult but she still took pride in her home. Sekhmet wondered if it was because a permanent home was a new concept to the elf girl or if she had always been neat. 

Merrill had looked almost relieved when Sekhmet announced she had to leave. Maybe the visit had been tiring to both of them? How hard would it be to know the same people all of your life then suddenly have everything uprooted?

Her walk to The Hanged Man was blessedly short, the sweltering sun baking her under her hood. Being covered from head to foot hadn’t been such a big deal in Ferelden, the winters were cold and even the summers were nothing like this oppressive heat. She’d hoped this summer would be easier than the last now that she’d experienced it once already. It was just as hard this year though, damn wishful thinking.

Varric smiled when he saw her coming into his suite peeling her hood from her head. “Looks like you could use a drink, Hawke.”

She smiled back as she settled into a chair at his table. “Yes, please.” She really liked Varric.

He disappeared and came back with three tankards setting two down in front of her. Taking his seat back at the head of the table he watched with an amused little smile as she drained the first one completely. “Better?”

She chuckled, “You’re a good man, Varric.”

His eyes sparkled a little, it was one of the things she liked about Varric, he found the whole world funny. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company without entourage in tow?”

“You wanted me to stop by to go over some information on jobs or something?” Another long pull on the new tankard slid down her throat like cool water. She had to find someplace decent to go swimming. Otherwise, they would find a shriveled husk in her armor laying face down in a puddle of her own sweat. She had come to hate the ladies in their long dresses floating around Kirkwall, not a drip of sweat on their brows. They seemed otherworldly and she was convinced they had all made deals with demons to keep cool.

Varric pushed to his feet crossing the room quickly. “Right, let me grab a map I’ll tell you what the jobs are and where they are so we can decide which ones we want to do.”

“We’ll probably end up doing them all, don’t we always?” Yes, because they needed the damned money and soon.

He placed the map on the table, “Well then let’s figure out the most efficient way to do everything so we can get it done faster.”

She tucked her legs under her and kneeled on the chair bent over the table to take in his tattered map. “I don’t know why we bother to do this; we never stick to it anyway.”

“That’s because you get bored or annoyed or decide you don’t want to head back to the city.” He had settled back in his chair and was sitting there with his hands laced behind his head.

“Maybe,” she conceded. For the next few hours they made their plans anyways enjoying a few more drinks and a lot more laughs before she finally tore herself away to head to Hightown.

Fenris didn’t answer the door but he never did. She found him at the back of the mansion on the second floor staring out of the window and drinking from a wine bottle. Quietly, she settled at the small table in the room and waited for him to come back from wherever his mind had wandered off to. He often seemed to be reliving some painful memory or other and trying to pull him out of it had been a mistake she had only made once.

At last he seemed to come back to himself not even reacting to finding Hawke at his table other than a slight nod. He made his way over to her, a little unsteady on his feet making her wonder how much wine he had managed to drink. But when he spoke to her with that lovely deep and slightly rumbling voice his words weren’t slurred at all.

He wrinkled his nose at the wine bottle before throwing it to smash against the wall, the wine making a dark splash before running in dark rivulets down the wall. It barely fazed her; Fenris was a moody man prone to fits of anger. It usually wasn’t too hard to pull him out of it though.

“A bad year then?” She flashed him a smile.

His anger evaporated like mist as he chuckled, it was charming and a little awkward, clearly not a sound he was used to making. He settled into a chair at the other end of the table. “Good to see you Hawke.” 

She gave a low wolf whistle, “Good to see you too, handsome.”

His smile cracked wider and he shook his head. “Have you no shame?”

“None, you’re a good looking man who doesn’t know it. Surely, this is a crime.” She relaxed back; perhaps this visit would be better than she had hoped. Fenris she understood, mostly. Angry about the past he could remember, angrier about the past he couldn’t remember and oddly shy. How a man that looked like him could be shy she had no idea. 

As long as she steered the conversation away from mages, especially Anders and away from magic and slavery they could have a decent conversation. Besides, it was fun to tease him and watch him get flustered. Though he wasn’t really her type he was a beautiful specimen of man, of any race.

He became a little serious but the anger didn’t return. “Do you really find me attractive?”

She scowled a little, “Fishing for compliments now, Fenris?”

He shook his head almost imperceptibly, “Just a question.”

“Yes, I find you attractive.” It was a simple enough question. He really was beautiful.

He relaxed and smiled again, “Good.” He shifted a little watching her carefully. 

She laughed this time, “Now that we have that settled I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t have to try to pry the information out of him. “It has been odd staying here. I have chosen to make a stand but there is nothing currently for me to stand against. I am grateful not to be on the run anymore, but wonder if staying here is making my senses dull.”

That was something she understood very well. “If you ever want to spar let me know. I like to keep myself sharp too.”

His eyes searched her face; maybe he thought she was being less than honest. Who knew with Fenris? The man, understandably, didn’t really trust anyone. He smiled again, bright white teeth against his tanned skin, “There are things to be said about staying in one place. I found that I quite enjoy company.” He was more relaxed than she could remember him since meeting him.

“Have a lot of it do you?” She had thought she was the only one who visited him.

“No, not a lot, but the company I do get is quite pleasant.” His index finger traced over a mark scratched into the surface of the table, a mark she had watched him trace a few dozen times before.

The rest of her visit surprised her, Fenris got down right chatty when he relaxed. He had a dry sense of humor it took her a little bit to get used to but he was actually pretty funny. They spoke about most of their companions, both carefully avoiding the topic of Anders for their own reasons. It was nice to see him so relaxed, he even spent a while petting Tyr while they spoke.

Eventually, she steered the conversation towards business, though in all honesty she was loathe to do so. “Fen, I have some business out of town for the next few days. Would you mind coming along?”

She was disappointed when his smile evaporated and his usual brooding scowl took its place. “I thought I wasn’t welcome to travel with you anymore.”

She stood and moved to the chair closet to him pulling it even closer to the elf. “No, I didn’t want you and Anders traveling with me at the same time anymore. Obviously, it was very uncomfortable for both of you.”

She heard his teeth gnash together and he turned to stare at the wall, “So where is _your precious_ mage?”

“Anders doesn’t want to help me anymore.” The words were surprisingly hard to get out.

Fenris looked back at her his face smug, “What did you expect from an abomination? You can’t expect loyalty from a monster.”

She wanted to argue, wanted to scream at him that he was wrong, Anders wasn’t a monster, but she needed Fenris’ help. Without Anders she needed another powerhouse who could deal out massive punishment and Fenris fit the bill. So instead of yelling and screaming, instead of hurling insults she nodded faintly, looking at the table “So, you’ll help?”

She felt him watching her and waited for him to respond. The silence stretched out and eventually she looked up, curious why he hadn’t answered yet. His face had softened; his eyes searched her face as she looked at him. His hand moved across the table and took a hold of hers. “You can always count on me, Hawke.”

She gave him a small smile, she hadn’t expected his understanding. With the numbness finally wearing off, she was still raw from everything with Anders and Fenris’ soft vow helped ease her a bit. She had fooled herself into believing Anders would always be there for her, as a friend if nothing else and ever since he had closed that door she had felt very alone. “Thanks, Fenris. We’ll be heading out in the morning.”

He nodded and patted her hand before pulling it away. “I’ll meet you at Gamlen’s.” He glanced to the window, “It’s been dark for quite a while, would you like me to walk you home?”

Shit, she’d been here all day? She laughed, “With those dazzling good looks of yours and the fine conversation I lost track of time all together.”

He chuckled and flushed a little, “And it didn’t even take magic.”

A jibe at Anders but it was alright, “I appreciate the offer, but I can take care of myself.”

He stood, “Then I’ll just come for the pleasure of your company a while longer.”

She pushed to her feet, still smiling who knew he was such a charmer? “I know you don’t remember your past, but I have a feeling you were very popular with women, dearest Fen.”

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, pulling her against him before it slipped around her waist. She stared up at him in surprise. His other hand cupped the back of her head, fingers combing up into her hair and tipped her head back. His lips met hers, soft at first. She was so surprised she didn’t immediately react.

He’d never really shown any interest in her before, had he? The thought shattered as he rocked his lips against her and shifted the angle; his lips were like the rest of him, strong and hot. He tentatively slid his tongue to touch her lips. She relaxed against him, what harm could it be; just a kiss and it had been so long since someone had kissed her. 

She opened her mouth and he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, the hand around her waist slipping down to cup her ass while the fingers of his other hand threaded tighter into her hair. His body slid against her, gods he was like an inferno. His hands, his mouth, every inch of his skin that touched her was hot.

He tasted like the lyrium etched into his skin and something else, something sweet, something…something… He tasted good, so damned good. She wrapped an arm around his neck and slid the hand of the other into his hair. She could have guessed it would be as soft as silk, too perfect hair to go with his too perfect body and his too perfect voice. 

Maybe a diversion was exactly what she needed. If anyone could help her forget about Anders it was definitely Fenris. Tingles ran down her spine as she slid her tongue against his. He moaned and pulled her tighter against him. She felt him starting to get hard and thrilled that she could still affect a man, could still make a man want her.

The thought surprised her; she hadn’t realized she’d been doubting herself so much. Maybe Anders pushing her out of his life had been good thing. She needed to stop thinking about Anders. This was Fenris’ embrace she stood in, it was Fenris’ lips on her own, his tongue tasting her, his taste flooding her mouth.

He shifted again, a hand on either side of her face now as he kissed her. He was devouring her, his kiss so hungry, so desperate as if he needed it to exist. The man certainly didn’t lack passion. Had she thought him dour? He walked her slowly back to the table, never breaking the kiss. He picked her up and placed her on it pushing her knees apart so he could stand between them.

His fingers gripped her jaw, tipping it back and to the side. He placed wet kisses along her jaw as he spoke to her in Arcanum. “Ego volo odio vos.” 1 A nip at the skin of her throat as his other hand moved down her side, “Vos servo panton ego contemno.” 2 Reaching the bottom of her tunic he slid his hand under it beginning an upwards journey again. “Tamen res vos narrow volo…” 3 He cupped her breast and squeezed it roughly making her moan at the less than gentle contact. “Vos es amo a votum everto adeo coegi mihi dementis.” 4

She wasn’t sure what he was saying but he sounded both aroused and angry as he spoke. He wrenched her head to the other side and bit her again, much harder than he had before. She whimpered a little, surprised. Her hands gripped his upper arms and squeezed them as he bit her again. He hissed in pain and pulled away from her.

He shook himself a little and looked at her accusingly, “Why did you do that?”

She was confused; she had no idea what she had done. “I…what did I do?”

“You dug those damn demon claws of yours into the lyrium in my skin.” He moved his arm to show her the back of it where he was bleeding.

She looked down at her hands; they looked the same, short squared off nails. She hadn’t even squeezed him that hard, at least she didn’t think she had. She gave a little shrug and looked at him, feeling helpless. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She pushed herself off the table landing on her feet on the floor. “Maybe I should go.”

He glared for another few moments before his face softened and he sighed, “No, you had no way of knowing how painful the markings are.” He walked to a corner of the room and pulled open a chest pulling out a poultice and a strip of cloth. He wet the cloth and set about cleaning and healing the wounds to the back of his arms.

“Fenris…”

He shook his head, “It’s fine, I’m used to patching myself up.”

She took a deep breath; her head was reeling a little. A year ago she’d have happily jumped into bed with Fenris, but now…she wanted more than a night of passion. And though she was now sure Fenris had passion in spades she didn’t know if he could, or was willing to give her anything more. And did she want more with him? Did he want more with her? “Maybe we should talk about what just happened?”

He turned and looked at her, “Stop Hawke, I know what you’re going to say. You aren’t interested in a slave.”

She smiled, “Actually, I was just going to say that we didn’t really know each other that well. And…Anders…no easy way to admit it I suppose. He hurt me. I don’t want to just jump into your bed to make myself feel better. You deserve better than that. Can you be patient with me?”

He chuckled a little, “I’m not really sure what I was doing anyways. You always tease me so much I guess I just wanted to be more than a punch line.”

She scowled a little, “I don’t think of you as a punch line.”

“You think of the world as a punch line. The only things you even remotely take seriously are those damn mages.” He turned away from her and she watched as he took a deep breath before turning back to her. When he looked up at her he was smirking. “You chased that bloody mage for months and all the two of you did was fight. A single kiss and I’m ready to start yelling at you. I’ve heard of girls driving men crazy but I don’t think this is what they meant.”

She smiled back, charmed by him again. “You mean I’m doing it wrong?”

He laughed, then took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m no expert, but yes, I believe you’re doing it wrong. Now let’s get you home and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“It’s alright; I can get home on my own. I want to make sure you get your beauty sleep.” She smirked.

He shook his head before shooing her from the house, “Go on then. Apparently, I have to make myself fetching to run around the countryside with you. Wouldn’t want you to be without something nice to look at now would we?”

She jogged out of the mansion, actually humming a little as she did. Who would have thought Fenris was such an interesting guy? Or that he was funny and charming? He seemed so miserable all the time .

********

Bethany watched her sister standing still and staring blankly after the elven girl who had just fled towards the entrance of the ruins. She wished she had some clue of what was going on in her sister’s head. What she did know was that Kelder was going to die. There were two things you could always count on with Sekhmet Hawke.

Firstly, if you were a Templar and there was any way Sekhmet could get away with it, you would die. Secondly, if you were a man and hurt a girl who couldn’t stop you, you would die. There was a reason behind the second, Bethany was sure, but she had no idea what had happened to make her sister so adamant about it.

Fenris stepped closer to her sister, “Are you ready?”

Beth shivered a little, Fenris had seemed all too happy to step into Anders’ shoes in more than one way. Not only had he joined them to fight but he was walking beside Sekhmet as Anders had done. He was being as territorial with Sekhmet as Anders had ever been and Beth didn’t care for it at all.

Fenris wasn’t necessarily the issue even. Beth was more worried Sekhmet might be slipping back into her old habits from Lothering again. She still wasn’t sure what to make of the whole mess with Anders and Justice, she thought Anders was great for Sekhmet but Justice was frightening. He could have killed Sekhmet. 

Her sister pulled herself away from watching after the girl’s disappearance and gave Fenris a small smile. “Aren’t I always?”

A faint smile touched Fenris’ lips, a far cry from his usual brooding. Varric gave Bethany a smile, one that echoed the words he’d said to her at least a dozen times today. How was she supposed to not worry? Her sister had nearly been murdered by the man she loved, who had then broken her heart.

Now her sister was trying to bed an elf that ripped hearts from people’s chests. Not to mention they were in these ruins looking for a man who tortured and killed elven children. Yeah, the world was just peachy.

More than she had in a long time, she felt lost and confused. She didn’t know how to feel about Anders and what had happened. She didn’t know how to feel about Fenris and her sister. She didn’t even know how to feel about going into the Deep Roads. Before, she hadn’t been too worried because Anders had been there and he could help them prepare. Now, they’d be going alone because Anders didn’t want to see Sekhmet anymore.

She’d tried to go to the clinic to talk to him the day before while her sister was out but Anders had kicked her out, said he didn’t want any more Hawke family trouble. Beth had gone home feeling like she was the one whose heart had been broken. All she had wanted was more help learning how to heal. She was better, but had a long way to go, not that she ever expected to be able to heal as well as Anders.

These thoughts were pointless though. She pushed them aside, when she was alone she’d try to puzzle things out. Maybe she would go see Merrill once they returned to the city. Sekhmet tended to warn her away from the elf, and Bethany understood, Merrill was a blood mage after all. She was a good listener though, and it wasn’t as if she ran around practicing blood magic just for the fun of it. And, Bethany felt sorry for Merrill. She was such a lonely woman. None of their companions knew her very well as Sekhmet almost always left her home and the dalish mage was shy by nature.

For Bethany, Merrill was the one person who didn’t treat her like a little sister. The elf always saw the best in everyone and sometimes Bethany needed someone with a brighter outlook on life than the pessimists she was surrounded by. 

“Beth, come on. Let’s get this over with. We still need to find the Viscount’s boy after this.” Sekhmet tossed over her shoulder.

She gave a brief nod and followed her sister, as always. At the end of the hall was yet another room, her sister reached for the door but Fenris beat her to it and pulled the heavy door open smoothly. Sekhmet nodded to him and walked into the room and the others followed. Bethany couldn’t help scowling at Fenris as she walked past him and into the room.

A pallid man pushed to his feet, grim expression on his lips as he glanced at them quickly before dropping his gaze to the floor. “Seems the creatures in these halls are not half so deadly as I had hoped.” A deep sigh, “My father sent you, didn’t he?”

Bethany watched him warily, her stomach knotting at the thought that this man had hurt and killed all those children. What kind of man could do such things? He was clearly more of a monster than most of the things they had faced in these ruins. 

Sekhmet stalked towards him, lips pressed into a thin line, knuckles white as she gripped her daggers hard, trying to control herself. “Sorry to disappoint you but we were sent here by the magistrate to bring you back. Although, after talking to Lia I’m not sure I’m interested in bringing you back anymore.”

The man nodded, “Good, I wanted the creatures to kill me but they’ve steered clear of me. Go ahead kill me, just tell my father that I’m sorry.”

Sekhmet slipped her right dagger back into its sheath, “I’ve no time to track down your sire, besides, I doubt your words can fix however you harmed him.”

The man raised his head, finally meeting Sekhmet’s eyes. Bethany had thought they might be extraordinary in some way, creepy or evil looking. He just looked like a man though; grant it a sad one, but a man nonetheless.

“You already know my ‘sire’, he’s the magistrate.” 

Bethany’s stomach flipped over making her nauseous. This monster was the magistrate’s son? Why hadn’t he told them? Did he know what his son had done? Anger bloomed inside her as she realized that the magistrate must know and had sent them to save his son from what he had thought was certain death.

Her sister’s eyes flared wide for a moment before she narrowed her gaze. “Your father knows of your crimes, knows you torture and kill elven children?”

The man’s eyes closed, his head cast down again. “He does, but he’s a good man. He has tried everything to help me. Even took me to the circle to try to get rid of the demons, but…but” he looked up his eyes open wide, wild and frightened like a cornered animal. “They lied; they said there were no demons.”

“A magistrate protecting his crazy son, you always find the best Hawke.” Fenris hissed, standing beside Hawke again.

“How could he, knowing you would just hurt others? Did he lock you up?” Surely, the magistrate didn’t just let him run loose? Bethany couldn’t imagine the magistrate would be so heartless.

The man was calm again, “No, he does not lock me up, just tells me to stop myself. As if it makes a difference when compelled by demons.”

“There are no damn demons. The Circle was right; you’re just crazy, sadistic. And if I take you back to your father another child will go missing and will suffer at your hands and I’ll have only myself to blame for it. For fuck’s sake,” Sekhmet’s anger blew out. She sighed, turning away and shaking her head. “This is my fault, how did I not spot him lying?”

Bethany scowled, irritation flaring through her as Fenris rested his hand on Sekhmet’s shoulder and leaned in close. Why was she so against Fenris with her sister? She knew though; saw it when she watched them. Fenris was stiff, awkward, he was forcing himself into the role like he thought he had to fill it. She doubted he felt anything for her, perhaps he thought it was the only way to travel with them? 

Fenris’ silky voice barely reached her ears as he spoke with her sister, “I can take care of this, if you’d like. Surely, you know we cannot return him?”

Her sister shook her head, her eyes filled with fire when she looked up again. “No, I’ll handle it.” She crossed to Kelder and gripped the front of his shirt shoving him against the pillar behind him. 

Bethany wanted to look away; Sekhmet was angry which boded ill for the man in front of them. Her sister could be…extraordinarily cruel. Sekhmet Hawke was like one of her daggers; honed to a sharp edge on tempered steel, hard after being through the fiery forge and doused in icy water, she could save your life, protect you, feed you, shelter you or she could end your life, tear you apart, torment you and make you wish for death. And she would become useless without a little love and attention. And for now, that was Bethany's job, keeping her sharp, well oiled, balanced. 

Sekhmet’s dagger flashed quickly, once, twice, before there was a reaction from Kelder. She held him still and moved her feet. As she jerked her dagger, a loop of intestine still hooked around it, she pulled it free with a jerk. Kelder going pale as his intestines spilled out onto the floor between them. Varric hissed and looked away.

Kelder started to look down but Sekhmet snapped at him, “Look at me, you bastard.”

Bethany held down what little was in her stomach by sheer force of will. Fenris looked at her briefly, eyes wide, clearly surprised by her sister’s vicious nature. When he looked back to Sekhmet they were amazed and a little horrified. Beth wanted to laugh, _“What’s the matter? Thought you had a monopoly on pulling things from people’s bodies?”_

Moments passed as Kelder became more and more pale, he didn’t scream but sickly sweat coursed down his pallid face. After what seemed an eternity Sekhmet slit his throat, turning her face away as the spray of blood soaked her hair. When she had finished she finally released Kelder and let his body slump to the floor.

Fenris had walked away standing back, leaving Sekhmet alone. Varric was still looking at the door. Bethany shook her head and sighed to herself, _“cowards”_. She walked up to her sister, pulling the neckerchief from around her neck. She wiped the blood from her sister’s face. Sekhmet just stood still and let her. Beth wiped as much as the blood from her hair as she could before dropping the blood soaked cloth to the floor.

“Feel better?” She asked lightly.

Sekhmet flashed a smile up at her, “Yes, much better. Thanks .”

She smiled at Sekhmet, “Off to save the Viscount’s boy then?” A reassuring smile to ground Sekhmet, to show her that she hadn’t managed to rattle Bethany, to let her know Beth still loved her.

Sekhmet’s smile changed, softened, touched her eyes. “Perhaps, we can actually save that one.”

Bethany nodded, times like this made her feel old. Yes, Sekhmet protected her all the time, took care of her and made sure she had no one to fear. But there were times, like now, when Beth felt like a mother reassuring a small child. She wanted to hug Sekhmet, to kiss her and tell her everything was alright. It wouldn’t be welcomed though, not just now. “Let’s hope so, I’m sure the magistrate won’t be pleased. But pissing off the viscount could leave us all a head shorter.”

Sekhmet’s eyes went wide before she laughed. She hugged Beth, short and fierce before tousling her hair a little. “I love you, Beth. Gods, that was good.”

Beth smiled and gave a little courtesy, “Happy to oblige.”

Varric chuckled from behind them, “If the twisted sisters are ready to face the day again, shall we go?”

Once they were free from the ruins Bethany let Varric deal with Elren and the city guards. She ushered Sekhmet past them not wanting to end up with more dead bodies. Sekhmet smirked at her, knowing full well what Bethany was doing. Fenris still lagged behind them, tossing curious glances at Sekhmet from time to time.

The hike to the otherside of the Wounded Coast was blessedly short. Her sister was feeling chatty, which helped to pass the time and distracted her from Fenris’ wary eyes. As they neared their destination Beth thought she spotted Merrill ahead. She squinted, trying to get a better look.

“Oh, did I mention I told Merrill to meet us here? I thought we’d be escorting two men back to Kirkwall and thought it prudent to have some extra help. Besides, she doesn’t get out that often.” Her sister murmured, becoming quiet again as she started searching the hills around them for a possible attack or maybe she was looking for signs of the Viscount’s boy.

“She doesn’t get out often because you leave her in the Alienage all the time.” She slowed her steps to match her sister’s.

Sekhmet looked to her, “No, one is really comfortable working with a blood mage, including me. What would you have me do?”

Not wanting an argument she sighed, “Nothing.”

Sekhmet nodded briefly, “And I wasn’t planning on having Fenris with me when I invited her along, so I’m going to need you to run interference there. I’m not in the mood for the two of them today.” She turned her head to glance at Fenris for a moment. “Of course, he still seems to be in shock so maybe we won’t have a problem.” She snorted as they continued, “He rips people’s hearts from their chests with his bare hand and he’s acting squeamish about what I did?”

Beth giggled, “Maybe you insulted his manhood by killing him yourself.”

Her sister joined her laughter. “Maybe he wanted to give me his still beating heart as a gift.”

Bethany laughed harder, “Ew, gross.”

They were interrupted by Merrill’s awkward as always greeting. “Oh, you’re here, good. I thought maybe I had the wrong day or maybe the wrong place.”

Bethany stopped laughing gradually, “See anything useful?”

Merrill nodded, looking down the trail a bit. “There’s a trail that branches off to the left of this one with a couple dozen footprints. I’m guessing that where we’ll find the Viscount’s son. “

Sekhmet looked surprised by the information but before she could say anything Merrill spoke up again.

“Tracking is second nature to a Dalish, any Dalish. Otherwise we would starve or stumble unwittingly upon Sh…humans.” She gave a small shrug.

Merrill quietly led them down the trail and Bethany smiled, pleased that Merrill had managed to impress Sekhmet. Perhaps, now her sister would start taking Merrill with her more often, especially since Anders was gone. Merrill was a talented mage, not as powerful as Anders or Bethany herself, but she was gifted. She knew a wide variety of spells and could do things with her magic that Bethany hadn’t even thought of. Her control with her magic was amazing.

The sound of voices focused her attention ahead of them. Sekhmet signaled for them to stay still as she peered up over some brush. She came back and spoke quickly and quietly, excitement stealing into her voice. “Looks like the Winters took out the Qunari and there’s at least a dozen of them standing about. The Viscount’s boy looks angry and upset. Let’s go say hello.”

They followed her into the clearing. Catching the middle of the conversation.

“You…vashedan bitch.” The Vicount’s boy snarled.

Ginnis, the head of the Winters shook her head with a sneer. “That one of their words, boy? That’s why you need to be dragged back home. You’ve been getting too friendly with those beasts. I bet you’ve gone even further than that, haven’t you boy?”

“Hey now, no need to get nasty with him just because you’re jealous.” Sekhmet piped in as they neared Ginnis and the Viscount’s son.

Ginnis’ head jerked around to take them in. “Competition?” She gave a harsh snort, “You’re too late. The Winters…I have already claimed him. So get lost.”

“Claimed him? I thought this was a rescue?” Sekhmet responded, stalking slowly around Ginnis, a predator sizing up her prey. She let her glance slid to the Viscount’s boy. “Hey darling, you ready to go back home?”

He grit his teeth briefly, “If I have to go back, so be it, but I don’t want this woman and her thugs collecting one damn copper. They murdered my friend.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Not a problem.”

Ginnis glared at the boy, “I should cut out your tongue you damned brat and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!”

Bethany unstrapped her staff, almost grinning, people like Ginnis and their goons deserved what they got. Her sister was smiling too, as she gripped her daggers and pulled them free. Beth looked to see the others getting ready as the Winters slowly surrounded them.

“Leave him alone, come dance with me if you’re so eager.” Sekhmet twirled a blade and gripped it again. “I’m so very fond of dancing you know.”

Ginnis growled and launched herself at Sekhmet, half a heartbeat later the rest of the Winters attacked. It seemed they had barely started when it was all over. Three dead at her feet, Ginnis is a crumpled pile near her sister and three more around her dead besides. Perhaps one of the fastest battles ever.

The Viscount’s boy stood up and moved away from the rocks he had been curled against. “Th..th,” he visibly swallowed and tried again, “Thank you, but she said more were coming, a lot more.”

“Good, I was just getting warmed up. Stay back, and make yourself useful, strip their camp. Once we’ve taken care of this we’ll head back to Kirkwall.” She gestured behind them where it was clear and there was no way to reach him except by water. “Merrill, Bethany, I want the two of you back here so you can protect him.”

Bethany nodded, a little disappointed to be sent to watch over the boy but it needed to be done, he was the reason they were there. It was nearly five minutes before another group came through the brush and up the paths to where they were. Varric rained arrows down over them, somehow managing to miss both Sekhmet and Fenris even as they both moved so fast through the Winters they were almost a blur.

“How does she move so fast do you think? Fenris has the lyrium but your sister…she’s not a mage but what is she?” Merrill was quiet, her voice reverent.

Bethany smiled, “She’s determined, Merrill, that’s all.”

Merrill shook her head, “Perhaps”.

“There’s so much blood, so many bodies. Oh, sweet Maker.” The Viscount’s boy covered his face.

She touched his arm, “Hey, what’s your name?” She’d try to distract him a bit. The last thing they needed was the Viscount complaining that they had scarred his precious son for life.

“Seamus, I’m Seamus, sorry how rude of me.” He looked embarrassed.

“No harm done. Hard to worry about niceties when you’re being surrounded by fighting.” She cranked her smile a little wider.

There was another lull and Beth thought perhaps they were done but Sekhmet cocked her head listening then twirled both her blades. More were coming. How many of them had come to the coast for Seamus? Had they expected a full blown war over him?

She chuckled, if the Winters couldn’t handle the five of them how had they expected to withstand an entire band of Tal-Vashoth? Merrill paced gracefully in front of her; her nerves settled when battle reared its head. Calm like this, she looked like the other Dalish they had met, poised. No babbling, stumbling over her own limbs and words. It was fascinating.

A short loud grunt from Fenris gripped her attention. She looked up as he pulled an arrow from his chestpiece, it hadn’t had nearly enough power to pierce through it but had barely managed to embed in it a little. Most of the arrowhead was still visible even. As he pulled it free more Winters poured into the clearing. And then he was off, a pale blue blur almost the same color as Justice.

The thought was unwelcome, on its tails came the image of Sekhmet suspended in the air, Justice’s hand around her throat. 

“Ma’am? Are you okay? You’re awfully pale.” Seamus had a hold of her shoulders.

Merrill turned to her, “Bethany? What’s wrong?”

She pushed Seamus away, embarrassed. “Nothing just thought Fenris was hurt for a moment. I’m fine.”

Merrill scowled but turned back to her vigil without a word. Seamus let her go looking unsure and a bit lost. His gaze wandered to the dead Qunari lying not far from Ginnis’ corpse.

“He was a friend?” She asked gently, keeping her eyes open for arrows or any other projectiles.

“Yes, he didn’t care that I was the Viscount’s son. You were either worth his time or you weren’t. I’ve spent so much of my life drowning in uncertainty and he had none.” His voice trailed off.

“Did you want to bury him when we’re done here? Or build him a pyre? What do the Qunari do for their dead?” She wasn’t sure, but they could take a few moments to make sure it was done, whatever it was.

“His body is just a shell. There is nothing that needs to be done. It is their way, apparently. The Arishok will surely know what happened, though I’m not sure he’ll even acknowledge it based on what Ashaad told me of their ways.” Seamus clearly mourned his friend’s loss.

Bethany didn’t know what to tell him. She’d lost both her father and her twin and yet had no answers when it came to death and grieving. There were times she was sure she would lose her mind from the grief even now. And there were times she could swear she felt Carver’s strong presence beside her.

Once the fighting was over they started a long and silent trip back to Kirkwall. All of them lost in their own thoughts. Bethany was thinking about Carver, another’s loss bringing hers into clear focus. Tears threatened a few times but she managed to hold them back. Losing her father had been terrible, especially since in many ways she had lost Sekhmet the same day. But Carver was different. Even now the wound felt as fresh as when it had first happened. 

She was still thinking about it when her sister stopped them to walk into the Viscount’s office with Seamus and Seneschal Bran. She was surprised when Seamus gave her a quick hug and whispered his thanks into her ear before he obediently followed Sekhmet through the doors. She spared him a few moments of thought if for no other reason than to try to put Carver back to rest for now at least.

She waited with the others for Sekhmet to come back. It didn’t take long; a laughing Sekhmet was being pushed out the doors by Seneschal Bran whose face was truly thunderous. He stopped outside the door and tossed a leather coin purse at Sekhmet, which she easily caught still laughing. 

“Now take the rest of your ruffians and leave these premises, now!” He growled at her.

“See you soon, Bran.” She dropped him a wink.

He turned around and slammed the doors behind him.

Bethany sighed, “So, I take it although we got paid, we didn’t manage to get the Viscount’s gratitude? We really could have used his good will, Sekhmet. Knowing the Viscount thought well of us might at least have given the Templars pause.”

Sekhmet shrugged. “I think we have his gratitude, at least some of it. It’s Bran that’s all hot around the collar. Not to worry though, Bran has secrets he needs kept. I can smell it on him, and I’ll find out what they are sooner or later.”

“You could just try being nice and respectful once in a while.” She admonished.

Sekhmet looked at her with smiling eyes, “Where’s the fun in that though, Beth.”

 

1 I wanted to hate you.  
2 You protect everything I hate.  
3 But the things you say to me...  
4 You are like a desire demon come to drive me mad.


	19. Cutthroat

Anders had been running around Lowtown for the last few days making house calls for Lirene. It had also been a great way to avoid Hawke. He wasn’t even sure she was looking for him, but thought it was better to avoid her. He missed her terribly and was constantly afraid his resolve would crumble and he would run to Gamlen’s to beg her for forgiveness. He’d tried to leave the city a couple of times since she had left that night, but hadn’t been able to force himself to leave.

He always had one excuse or another. He had to save the mages; Meredith was more of a tyrant than any other Knight Commander he knew of. He had to help the Fereldens in Darktown, they needed him. He owed Lirene for all of her help and kindness. It all really boiled down to he didn’t want to be that far away from Hawke. Even if he didn’t see her, it made him feel better knowing she wasn’t too far away. Alone at night when he wrote his manifesto or tried to get a better handle on Justice it was thoughts of Hawke that kept him going. It was pathetic, but so was a lot about his life now. Why should this be any different?

She’d walked past him only twenty feet away, if that, headed for the Alienage. His heart skidded to a halt in his chest and his breath caught. If Hawke hadn’t been so occupied, smiling and humming to herself as she left the Hanged Man she likely would have spotted him. Curious, he went inside heading for Varric’s suite, he spent each day not seeing her aching and lonely yet she was humming? 

The dwarf nodded to him as he put some things away on a shelf. Taking the implied invitation he lowered himself into a chair sighing in relief, his back ached a little and his feet were tired from all the standing he had done of the last couple days. “So, just saw Hawke, looked like she was in a good mood.”

Varric smirked and walked back to join him at the table. “Curiosity killed the cat, Blondie.”

He quirked a brow, Varric loved telling stories, why the reticence now? “Wasn’t it satisfaction that brought him back?”

Varric’s smile melted a little, “Is that what you’re planning to do, son? Are you planning on coming back?”

Anders shifted in the chair; he was having trouble reading Varric and his new mood. He gave a soft sigh, he was lucky Varric even still spoke to him. He’d shut everyone else out, clinging to the friendship with Varric more out of self preservation than anything else. Varric was a smart man, he’d probably already figured it out. “I just want to know how the girls are.”

Varric shook his head, “Don’t do this to yourself. Either move on or come back. They both miss you.”

He snorted, “Looks like my absence has been good for Hawke. She looks…happy.” His chest ached, he was miserable, but she was happy at least.

Varric pushed his chair back a little, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Oh?” Yeah, _that_ sounded casual. Couldn’t he just leave well enough alone?

“What is it you want to hear, Anders? Is it the truth you’re looking for, or something to make you feel better?” The dwarf was scowling at him now.

Anders lowered his head into his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “I don’t know.”

“Then don’t ask. The next time you do, it’s the truth you’ll get whether you like it or not.” There was a pause and when Varric spoke again his voice was gentler, friendlier. “Now would you like a drink?”

Anders pulled his head from his hands, “One can’t hurt I suppose.”

“Sure Blondie, hang on a sec.” Varric disappeared out into the main tavern.

Anders sat at the table thinking about what Varric had said. Did he really want to know? Was he hoping she was miserable without him? And what about Beth? She had done nothing to him and yet he had yelled at her to stay out of his clinic and away from him when she had tried to talk to him. Poor girl didn’t deserve to be treated like that. His thoughts were interrupted by Varric setting a mug of ale on the table in front of him.

“Before I forget, I have something for you.” Varric turned and pressed something Anders couldn’t see making the book case behind him slide off to the side in the depression was a metal chest with an impressive looking lock on it. He slipped a key from his sleeve, opened the chest and pulled out a small bag tossing it to Anders before closing the chest and sliding the bookcase back. Anders marveled over Dwarven ingenuity again then picked up the little leather pouch. The weight of the bag was odd and he pulled it open.

“Woah, Varric, this is way too much.” The purse contained two sovereigns and at least fifty silver.

“Just your cut.” The dwarf shrugged nonchalantly.

Anders was fighting against annoyance, “I don’t need charity.” His voice was a little harsh, but no odd tones from Justice thankfully.

“No charity, the Viscount was very grateful for Hawke’s help with the Guard Captain problem. You worked the job with her so part of it is yours. Plus, I was finally able to sell everything we brought in from the other jobs we worked. Not a bad haul if I do say so myself. Don’t spend it all in one place now.” He smirked at Anders, looking pleased with himself.

Two sovereigns could go a long way for him, he needed some new furniture, new linens, and he could get the proper tools he needed for surgeries. Plus, he could get his boots resoled and, well the list was just about endless, but this would help so much. He smiled back at Varric, “Thanks, and no, I won’t be coming to play Wicked Grace, I have better things to do with this money.”

Varric nodded, “I thought you might. “

Part of him whispered they should book passage from the city as soon as possible. His self-preservation instinct gasping its last breath most likely; he’d spent the months since bonding with Justice and even a few beforehand beating the wretched thing into submission. Its answer to everything was almost always the same, run. Anders was done running; it was time to start doing something. 

Or at least it would be soon. For now he was going to enjoy Varric’s company and maybe trade a tale or two. It was the best way he knew to thank Varric for the drink and the coin. He didn’t need to give it to Anders who had walked away from them, not the other way around.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw a broodmother?” he flashed Varric a smile.

And Varric immediately reciprocated, “Not yet.”

“It was a job filled with firsts for me, first time I met someone from the Legion of the Dead, first time I saw broodmothers, and first time my commander made me promise to kill her.” A rough job, spent in the Deep Roads, but it was an interesting story. One he could easily tell and interject with humor so Varric wouldn’t have to know how hard the whole thing had been for him.

“Did your Commander make you promise to kill her a lot then?” Varric was smirking.

“Perhaps.” He gave a vague shrug, “We were following up on a tip from hunters about Darkspawn in a crevasse…”

********

She’d barely made it three steps into the tavern when Isabela sauntered up to her. Her dark skinned fingers reaching for her hair…again. Izzy was fascinated with her white tresses. She tugged her hair away from Isabela’s grasp irritably. “I’m here Izzy, what did you want?”

Isabela shook her head, “I can’t see why Anders hasn’t tied you to his bed and done wicked things to you. Unless he’s given up on women all together, as I remember he did have quite the eye for men too. Perhaps he’s decided women are too delicate for his desires.”

Sekhmet turned around; she wasn’t here to have Isabela give her more flack about Anders today. She was struggling on putting him behind her as it was. She missed him, tried not to think about him especially with Fenris being so attentive, but couldn’t help missing him. Izzy’s overly dry fingers wrapped around her wrist stopping her before she grasped the door’s handle. 

“Alright, no crap about Anders. I do have a job for you, if you’re interested.” The pirate queen sounded like she was pouting.

Sekhmet turned back to her, crossing her arms over her chest feeling defensive and not completely trusting Isabela. “Then spill it quick before I come to my senses and leave.”

“You know Hawke, if you ever need to relieve some tension…” She left the rest unspoken but her smile told her all she needed to know anyway. When she didn’t respond Isabela shrugged, “At any rate, I have a friend, Martin. He has a job that needs doing that would be right up your alley.”

“A friend?” Another of Izzy’s ex lover’s was more like it.

“Yes, a friend. I never let him steer my ship if that’s what you’re implying. I heard he doesn’t have very good control of his…rudder.” She smirked.

Hawke couldn’t help a smile. “Nothing worse than a man who can’t control his rudder. So why aren’t you running this job Izzy?”

Isabela visibly relaxed, surprising Sekhmet, did she make Isabela nervous? “I’ll come along if you need a hand, be happy to in fact, but I can’t pull this one alone. And truth be told, you’re the only one I trust enough to work with.”

“So what’s the job then?”

“He’s got cargo he needs retrieved, but he can explain it all to you. Come on, I’ll take you to him.” Isabela headed towards the back of the Hanged Man where the rented rooms were.

Sekhmet followed Isabela, admiring the pirate’s boots. They really were fantastic. Of course if she had legs like Isabela’s she wasn’t sure she’d cover them up, gorgeous boots or not. She felt another moment of pique aimed at Izzy. She was a very beautiful woman, the complete opposite of Sekhmet in almost every way. Truth be told, if things had been different the two of them might have been good friends. They had many things in common, but Izzy was more interested in upsetting Hawke. Not many could rattle her and the fact Izzy always could pissed her off.

Isabela stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, gesturing for Sekhmet to enter. Oddly, she opted to stay out of the room. The man sitting in front of the fire pushed to his feet quickly at the sound of her entrance. His fist clenched quickly before releasing and he swallowed before taking a breath and putting a sneer on his face.

Pasting on a mask to hide his fear, “So you found me, going to finish Martin off properly this time are ya? Where’s my property eh? How’s it feel making a profit off someone else’s hard work?”

She suppressed a chuckle, “Not speaking from personal experience but I’m sure it feels great not to have to work to earn your keep.”

Maybe she should have laughed; the man clearly missed the joke, “You bastards, well I’m not going down without a fight.”

“Darling, you need to relax, I’m not here to kill you. Izzy said you could use a hand, I thought I’d come see what you needed. That’s all.” She tailed her finger across her heart with a smile, “promise.”

He shifted from one foot to the other, You’re not trying to kill me? Eh, makes sense, if you were you wouldn’t be talking.” He finally seemed to relax. “Job’s simple enough. I need someone to help me figure out where the raiders had hidden my stolen cargo. This job’s as easy as a peg legged tavern wench and there’s good coin in ta-boot.”

She chuckled, “I’ll take your word for it. So how’d they get your cargo?”

His eyes clouded over, “The bastards closed in on my ship and forced it into the cliffs. My crew and I barely made it out alive. They must have salvaged the cargo when it washed ashore.”

She glanced quickly out of the room, but didn’t see Izzy. Something was fishy with this man’s story. “So why do you need someone else to find it for you if you know who took it?”

Same shaded eyes, “Those raiders are still looking for me, I’m not going to draw their attention.”

She walked closer, moving so he had to turn his face more to the light in order to see her. “You have a history with the raiders don’t you?”

He scowled started to turn away then finally just sighed, “Observant little cuss, aren’t ya? Yes, I was a raider. Back then it was just smuggling and petty thievery.” He rubbed his hand over his close cropped hair. “It’s changed since that madman Ianto took power around here. Extortion, murder, kidnapping he does it all.” Turning away he walks back towards his chair, “It’s just not to my taste. I tried to get out, but he didn’t like that.” 

When he turned back around his eyes were glowing with anger. “The sick fuck gave me this scar on my neck. Slit my throat and threw me overboard like waste water. Ever tried to swim in an ocean full of predators with your throat slit?” The fire in his eyes guttered a little, “I paid my damn dues, I tried to start a new life away from this bullshit and he has his men chase me down and steal my cargo.”

She cocked her head a little, “What did you do to him? You must have done something more than just leave to provoke that kind of response.”

He shook his head, “I didn’t die more than enough to earn his wrath.”

She wasn’t sure she believed him completely, but it wasn’t that important. “So what exactly is this cargo I’m supposed to hunt down for you?”

His eyes bore into hers, “It’s just spices and herbs, nothing special.” 

She wanted to laugh again, he was a terrible liar, but she needed the money and once she saw for herself what the cargo was she could make a determination on what to do with it. “I’ll hunt it down for you, Martin.”

His whole posture relaxed, “You’ll need to take a look around the docks. The crates bear the seal of the Orlesian Port authority so you’ll know it when you see it.”

She raised a brow, “You’re assuming I know what an Orlesian Port Authority seal looks like.”

He waived his hand, dismissive, “Pfft, it’s fancy just like everything Orleasian. I’ve had it with the raiders and this cargo is the key to me getting on the straight and narrow. You’re doing me a huge favor here friend. Thank you and be careful.”

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room closing the door behind her. Izzy was leaning against the wall and looked up at her expectantly as she walked past.

“So, you taking it?”

She gave a brief nod, “Yeah, and what’s with the disappearing act.”

Isabela shrugged, “He on the level?”

“No, something’s up, but we need the money and we can always decide to sell the goods ourselves when we find them if necessary.” She strode towards the front of the tavern. “You and I will head down to the docks now, if you’re not busy, see what we can find out. Once we have more to go on we’ll get help.”

The walk to the docks was amusing; Isabela was being oddly charming and accommodating. Telling funny stories about her own travels on the seas. “You know, since I’ve been land locked I’ve been having all these fantasies about when I get a new ship. I even have a fantasy crew picked out.”

Sekhmet rolled her eyes, “Yeah, what’s that, two dozen tanned, toned and barely dressed men at your beck and call?”

There were a few beats of silence before Isabela laughed softly, “I was actually thinking something much more intimate.”

Sekhmet quirked a brow as she looked at her, curious, “Are you flirting with me, Izzy?”

More laughter, “Always, sweet thing, always.”

Sekhmet laughed herself, “Just so you know, I prefer the flirting to you throwing Anders in my face all the time.”

A quick nod with a smile, “Noted.”

“Come on, these guys over here have been checking out your gams the entire time we’ve been walking down here. Let’s see if we can get them to talk.” She strode over to the two men moving cargo, like the dozen other workers they had passed. “I’m looking for some cargo.”

The ginger haired man stands up from setting down a couple of crates. His eyes skate over Isabela’s legs again before he flashes a sneer at Hawke gesturing around him. “You’re in luck, cargo all around, take your pick.”

She chuckled, “Fair enough. I’m looking for something specific. Is that something you can help me with, or is it beyond you?”

He crossed his arms across his chest, obviously annoyed, “What do you want?”

Isabela stepped forward, “We’re looking for crates sealed by the Orleasian Port Authority.”

His eyes traveled over her legs again, “Haven’t seen any, darlin’, sorry.” 

The man behind him paused in his labors, “Talk to the harbor master. I’ll bet he has information about your cargo, he’s in his office.” His accent was think and Sekhmet couldn’t place it. He turned back to his work before she could even respond.

Isabela turned, “The office is this way.”

The trip to the office didn’t help much. The harbor master pawned them off on an assistant who was looking to make coin for his information. Coin Sekhmet was looking to spend. She told him where he could shove his information.

She strolled out of the office, “Well that was a productive trip.”

“Actually, Liam leaves his office at nightfall; we could sneak in after dark and take a look at his records.” 

“You couldn’t have told me that before we trekked all the way down here in the middle of the afternoon heat?” She snapped.

Isabela faked a pout, “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy my company?”

She groaned, “For fuck’s sake Izzy. Let’s just head back. You can buy me a round to make up for it. And then I’ll head to Hightown to let Fenris know to meet us down at the docks tonight.”

********

Fenris was waiting at the bottom of the steps to the dock. He glanced up with a scowl on his face until his eyes landed on Bethany’s sister. The corners turned up and looked to be a passable smile. His eyes looked more somber to her though. Maybe she was just imagining it.

She watched her sister squeeze his arm affectionately. He nodded to Bethany before scowling at Isabela. As Sekhmet and Fenris started away Isabela caught her elbow and held her still for a moment. She watched Isabela wondering what she was doing.

Finally, as Sekhmet and Fenris disappeared into the office of the harbor master she turned to Beth. “So, your sister moved on to the elf?”

She gave a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“I suppose it explains why Anders is suddenly missing on these little excursions of ours.” She finally let Beth’s arm go.

“We should catch up.” Beth hurried forward not wanting Isabela to try to grill her for information. She got to the archway just as Sekhmet was coming out holding a piece of parchment. 

“Look at this. Seems we’re not the only ones the assistant was trying to squeeze a few coins from. They moved the cargo to Woodrow’s warehouse on the east side of the docks. And enterprising Aden was looking to apply the _special_ rate to the cargo. So let’s get over there.” She folded the parchment and tucked it into the pouch on the back of her belt, already heading for the warehouse.

As they neared it Sekhmet stopped then grabbed Beth’s hand. “You guys stay here. Follow my lead, Beth.”

She followed on her sister’s heels, her heart already racing a little and trying to stifle a giggle wondering what ridiculous scheme her sister had cooked up this time. Even with Sekhmet’s legs much shorter than her own she had to struggle to keep up with her sister. She stopped in front of what were obviously guards for the warehouse.

Sekhmet panted, harder than she needed to, after a short run like that her sister wouldn’t have been winded at all. Bethany followed suit and covered her mouth to hide her smile when one of the guard’s eyes glued themselves to her cleavage. Likely her sister’s intent. 

“Why are you just standing there? There’s a fire, people need help?” Sekhmet’s tone was accusatory.

Bethany scowled at the guard who was finally tearing his gaze from her cleavage. “Can’t you hear the screaming?” She batted her eyelashes at him a few times.

He stammered as he watched her, “I…I don’t hear anything.”

The guard beside him, “We could lose the cargo if there’s a fire we better check it out.”

The first guard nodded and flashed her a quick smile before dashing away, the other guards on his heels. Sekhmet watched for a moment and then waived Isabela and Fenris over as she laughed and clapped Bethany on the back. 

“You realize you’re a terrible influence on me right?” She giggled.

Her sister shook her head, “Hey, you were the one pushing your cleavage in his face and batting your eyelashes.”

Isabela’s eyes widened, “Oh, and I missed it. Damn it all.”

“Eyes off my sister, you lecher.” Sekhmet hissed, half amused and half serious.

Isabela smirked, “Can a woman be a lecher?”

Bethany, exasperated, rolled her eyes, “I don’t care, either way keep your eyes to yourself.”

“Can’t help myself when you go showing yourself off like you do.” Izzy shrugged.

“She has a point.” This a quiet murmur from Fenris.

It made Isabela laugh again and she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the warehouse. They didn’t find any resistance in the warehouse until they walked down into the main room. Doors opened and more guards, likely raiders, poured inside.

She stayed back and using her new found healing abilities as the other three attacked the raiders head on. Even after all these years watching her sister she still found it hard to follow her in a fight because she moved so quickly. Fenris had brief periods where he was even faster than Sekhmet with his special abilities. It was Isabela who drew her eyes again and again though.

Isabela looked almost like she was dancing when she fought. Her blades were like extensions of her arms as she dipped and spun around her adversaries. Smooth glides, one legged twirls she was graceful in the midst of blood and chaos. Beth felt so terribly ordinary next to her companions. Compared to her sister she was a sloth, next to Isabela she looked like a bumbling clutz. 

Fenris was fast too, but he was whole new level of deadly with his ability to rip people’s hearts from their chests. Varric had Bianca, and Merrill had a control over her magic that Bethany could only dream about. And next to Anders incredible power she was like a child newly come into her power. Even Aveline, no frills Aveline had a special arsenal. Her husband had taught her techniques that only Templars were usually taught.

Suddenly, she felt as if she had been punched in the gut. All the air rushed from her lungs, she glanced down and saw an arrow protruding from the left side of her abdomen. She couldn’t believe it, the room spun and her legs collapsed under her. She struggled to pull in a breath, as pain suddenly flowed from the wound like acid.

She finally managed to take a shaky breath when she felt a hot poker jab at her left shoulder. She started to fall backwards from the force and cried out for help as she did. “Sissy!”

She vaguely felt the ground when she hit it. Mostly her gut felt full of acid and her shoulder was on fire. Fatigue swept over her as she struggled to put up a magic shield. 

“Beth! I’m coming, I’m coming.” Her sister’s voice sounded like a whisper.

She tried to keep her eyes open, wanted desperately to see Sekhmet. If she just saw her, she would be fine. Sekhmet would take care of whatever was wrong and she’d be right as rain in no time. Finally, she could see her standing over her.

“They’re all dead, Beth. Put down the shield so I can take a look at the injuries.” 

It was a relief to let the magic go. Sekhmet’s face was paler than usual but there were no tears. That was good; she must not be as bad off as she thought if Sekhmet was so calm. Sekhmet stroked her face and took a deep breath.

“You’ve been hit, I’m going to bandage you up, but I can’t pull the arrows out here. I don’t have everything I need to fix your injuries here. I need to roll you on your side and see if the arrows went all the way through.” She brushed a soft kiss against Beth’s forehead.

Beth coughed and closed her eyes. She’d been wrong, it was worse than she thought. There was blood when she coughed. She took a small shallow breath not wanting to cough again, “You have to take me to Anders.”

Her sister’s voice was so soft, “I know. I’ll get you stabilized and we’ll take you to him. I promise.”

She nodded and everything went black.

********

The doors to his clinic had only been shut for a few minutes when the door slammed open. He looked up to see Hawke stalking through the door her eyes rolling wildly, looking for him. His heart was pounding in his chest, Sweet Andraste it was good to see her. 

She ran straight at him when she caught sight of him. He was surprised and wondered for a moment what exactly she was planning. He figured he was in for some sort of lecture from her, which he deserved.

She slammed both her hands into his chest went she got to him. “You fucking bastard.” Her hands slammed into him again, knocking him back several steps and nearly knocking the air from his lungs.

He put his hands up, confused and hurt that she’s come after him. Obviously, all that happened with Justice was not forgiven. Her anger had just taken longer to take hold.

But then her face changed, she shook and balled her hands into fists. Tears started to fall as she pounded on his chest with her fists. And a breath later she let out a broken sob. “Bastard.” She yelled again, more anguish than anger.

“Hawke, what’s going on? Talk to me.” He pleaded, still not able to capture her hands, and his chest was beginning to hurt from the repeated blows.

“Talk to you?” She screeched, her fist connecting with his shoulder this time. “Talk? You want to fucking talk now? Huh?” She pounded at him again.

“Dammit,” Isabela cursed and ran across the clinic grabbing one of Hawke’s arms and trying to pull her away from Anders. “Come on, Bethany needs him. Stop hitting him.”

The room tilted and dread pooled in Anders’ gut. If Hawke was acting half crazed and Bethany needed him there was only one thing that could have happened. He grabbed Sekhmet’s other wrist, as she jerked and pulled trying to free herself. “Where is she?”

He winced when Hawke’s boot connected with his shin. “You weren’t there, you weren’t fucking there. Why weren’t you there? Damn you, Anders. To the fucking Void with you.” She jerked again trying to pull free.

“Isabela where is…” His voice trailed off as Fenris came through the still open door. He carried Bethany who was as pale as her sister. She was unconscious, blood trickling from the corner of her a mouth, a very bad sign. Two arrows protruded from her flesh. 

The one in her shoulder looked fairly innocuous; it was the one in her abdomen that worried him. She was very still in Fenris’ arms; he couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. Was the girl already dead? Another vicious kick from Hawke brought his attention back to her.

He used a bit magic and captured Hawke close, careful not to hurt her. She hadn’t meant him any real harm; she was just hurt and angry about Bethany. His own heart was rending at the sight of Beth. He knew he had to calm Hawke so he could help Beth. He kissed the top of her head as he held her with magic. “Hate me later, right now let me save her.”

She thrashed for a moment until he wrapped his arms around her and unspooled the magic holding her. She slumped against him a little, her fingers crushing the feathers on his coat. “Save her, please.”, a strangled whisper.

He gently sat her down on a cot, not sure she would be steady on her feet now that the anger seemed to have abated at last. Hawke momentarily dealt with, he jogged to Bethany to help her. Fenris had already set her down on a cot and was glaring daggers at Anders.

His teeth gashed as he snarled at Anders. “She took two arrows.” He gestured to two wooden shafts on the left side of Bethany’s abdomen, wrapped around with bandages, holding them still. “We broke off the ends but didn’t push them through. Hawke thought it would better if we brought her here and let you do it.”

Fenris was even less pleasant that usual. Was he sweet on the girl? Even so, did he too blame Anders for not being there? He’d never wanted Anders around before. He assessed the injuries quickly before standing up straight. “Stay here, watch over her. I need to get some things.”

Isabela came forward suddenly, “Go stay with Hawke, Fenris. I’ll stay here.”

Anders walked calmly, but quickly, to the back of the clinic slipping into his room. He took out the key and unlocked the chest, careful not to let the lid bang against the wall. He hurriedly covered it back up and shoved the key back into the recess in the drawer before downing two lyrium potions quickly begging Justice to keep quiet and calm so he could save Bethany. 

He was headed for the doorway when he had to reach out for a hold of the wall, the near orgasmic pleasure sweeping through him making him weak. “Justice, get your shit together. I don’t have time for this.” He felt the sweat beading on his forehead. He took a few deep breaths and walked back into the clinic hoping desperately that he wasn’t glowing. He grabbed some surgical tools, towels, and water before turning back towards where Bethany awaited.

He nearly dropped everything when he saw Hawke and Fenris together. They stood facing each other, her face burrowed against his neck. She wasn’t making any noise but he imagined she was probably crying. Fenris was holding her awkwardly whispering to her. Was this the reason Hawke had been smiling the other day? 

“Anders,” Isabela’s voice cut through his shock.

He finally tore his gaze away from the couple and headed back to where Bethany was still laying still and unconscious on the cot. The shoulder was a small matter so he chose to ignore it for now. He had to take care of the abdominal wound. 

“Andraste’s tits Anders, are you sure you’re up to this? You look like shit.” Isabela grabbed a towel and mopped his brow as he carefully snapped the bow shaft closer to the wound.

He peeled the panel of chainmail over and off the arrow shaft before carefully cutting Bethany’s armor to expose the wound. “I’m fine, just worried.”

“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner with Hawke. She seemed alright, calm until we got to Darktown. She just took off and I didn’t want to leave Fenris with no way to defend himself.” Her voice was quiet and when Anders glanced up at her she had cast an uneasy look at Hawke and Fenris.

“It’s fine. It’s not like she hurt me.” He took a breath, gripped the arrow shaft and pulled, the arrowhead was gone there was no problem and he didn’t have to move her that way.

“No, I’m guessing that didn’t happen till you saw that crap.” She sneered and gestured at the couple.

Anders didn’t bother looking, “It’s none of our business, Izzy.” He cleaned the wound, checked to see if he would need to dig anything out of the wound and sighed in relief when he found nothing in it. There was a lot of damage, but nothing beyond his healing.

He poured the magic into the wound, seeing the damage in his mind he worked slowly and carefully. Blinking his eyes open in surprise when Isabela mopped his brow again. 

She gave a nervous giggle, “Sorry, you’re sweating a lot.”

He nodded and refocused, “It’s the lyrium.”

“Does it do that to all mages?”

He sighed, “Can we save the twenty questions until Bethany is out of the woods?”

She nodded, “Right, sorry.”

He kept a tight rein on his attention, keeping it all firmly on Bethany. Isabela stayed blessedly silent for once, mopping sweat off his face occasionally but being careful to stay out of his way and out of his light. The minutes ticked by slowly. 

Once he finally had her both of her wounds healed he checked a still unconscious Bethany over again, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He stood and stretched, Hawke hurried over to him and he tried for a smile and failed. “She’s alright. She needs to rest, probably better if she stays here for the night.” He tried not to wince when Hawke hugged him, even managed to wrap one of his arms around her, trying to be reassuring. 

“Thank you, Anders.” She squeezed him tight again before letting him go.

“Any other injuries need tending while you’re all here?” Was it petty of him to hope Fenris had been bleeding to death while he healed Bethany?

“No, the rest of us are fine.” Isabela had been covering Bethany up and now joined them.

“I’ll stay up and keep an eye on her; you guys can go home and get some sleep. She should be up sometime tomorrow. Come back then to see her.” He watched their faces. Hawke scowled, Fenris looked relieved and Isabela was already turning to go.

“I’m staying here with her.” Hawke moved around him dragging another cot until it was beside Bethany’s.

“Hawke, that’s really not necessary. Why don’t you have Fenris take you home?” The man’s name tasted like ashes in his mouth.

Fenris sighed heavily, “I’ll stay.”

“No, go on home. I’ll stay with Bethany. You and Isabela get some sleep. I want you two to finish dealing with that cargo tomorrow.” Hawke settled onto the cot, sitting with her legs crossed.

Isabela stopped, “We can take care of it tonight, can’t we Fen?”

Fenris almost scrambled for the door, “Yes, let’s go.”

Anders shut the door behind them and locked it. He turned back and glanced at Hawke, unable to look at her for long, it hurt too much. “You sure you didn’t want him here?”

“Why, do I need him here for some reason?” Her voice was a little sharp.

“Hawke…” but he had no idea what to say to her.

Her voice was soft and kind when she spoke again. She patted the cot beside her, “Come sit, we’ll pretend we’re still friends for tonight, okay?”

He walked over slowly and settled beside her. “I think I’d like that.”

She gave him an unsteady smile, “Me too.”


	20. Tinder

Hawke and Anders had talked all night as they watched over Bethany, conversation flowing easily between them. They avoided any mention of what happened with Justice, or what happened to Bethany and any mention of Fenris at all. Anders had thought that after everything talking together would be difficult, but it wasn’t. Maybe they were both pretending none of those things existed.

He found himself flirting with her again and again, or maybe he was just finally being honest with her. He told her how much he missed her smile, how the days at the clinic without her dragged on forever. And jokingly told her he was bored without her dragging him into trouble all the time. On a more somber note, when she pressed, he confessed he missed her.

She enchanted him with her smiles; they started shy, like she was unsure of herself. Gradually, she warmed up and relaxed, more like the Hawke he knew. She gripped the edge of the cot over and over. Eventually, he realized she was stopping herself from touching him. Anders wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman as tactile as Hawke. She always seemed to want to touch him which pleased and terrified him.

Something special happened between them, though he wasn’t sure what it was or why. Maybe it was because they had both so nearly lost someone dear to them. Maybe it was not seeing each other, not having each other to talk to after…Justice attacked her. Or maybe he had just been feeling alone and wanted to feel some sort of connection with someone. 

He confessed things to her that night he had never told a living soul. And he was pretty sure she did the same. She whispered to him about her nightmares and when she was done, he confided to her about his own. 

She looked away, not able to meet his gaze when she told him how Carver hated her. And he closed his eyes when he confessed that he hadn’t met any of his real family until about a year before. Though their names he kept to himself.

And when Bethany finally stirred they shared a look of relief mixed with disappointment. Or at least Anders hoped that was the look they shared. He was relieved to have Bethany awake and alright, but a bit disappointed that the night with Hawke was over.

At dawn Hawke slipped out to head to Gamlen’s. She wanted to let her mother know where she and Bethany were and that they were safe. Anders checked Bethany over again; just to be sure she was alright before warming some broth for her to drink. As he handed it to her she caught his wrist.

“She stayed with you last night, just the two of you?” Her voice was soft.

“She stayed here and watched over you.” He tried to give her a bit of a smile.

“She was smiling.” Soft still, but stronger, more adamant.

“She was smiling because you’re awake and alright, Beth, nothing more.” He carefully removed her hand from his wrist and moved to sit on the cot Hawke had dragged over the night before.

Bethany smiled at him, and it was surprisingly sly. “I knew if I got you two back in a room together you wouldn’t be able to help yourselves. There’s something between you two and even after everything I still think you’re meant to be.”

Anders scowled and pushed to his feet, fear and anger at war inside him. “Maker’s breath Bethany, tell me you didn’t get hurt like that on purpose. Tell me this wasn’t some asinine scheme to get your sister and I to reconcile. Please tell me you wouldn’t do something so completely stupid because of some naïve notion about your sister and me.”

Bethany shook her head, “No, it wasn’t. I was…distracted. It was my fault, I made a mistake.” She took a deep breath, “I have been thinking about trying to find a way to get you two into a room together on and off all week. But, to be honest, I’m still a bit upset about what I saw Justice do to Sekhmet.”

He sat back down and sighed; relieved at least that she hadn’t nearly gotten herself killed on purpose. “That’s why you girls need to stay away from me. I’m not safe.”

Her still ashen face looked to him pleadingly, “Was it just the Templars? Has he wanted to hurt any of us before? I mean, has he wanted to but you stopped him?”

He rubbed his hand over his stubble, “Yes, it was the Templars. That’s not to say if we avoid the Templars I’d be safe to be around. He’s wanted to hurt your sister before. Justice thinks she takes up too much of my time and distracts me from what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“And what’s that?” She was watching him carefully, dutifully taking a sip of broth when he motioned for her to do so.

“It’s complicated, Beth. We can’t assume I’ll ever be safe to be around. Other people…in my situation go mad and become monsters out to destroy and kill.” 

“But you didn’t. You’re a good person and strong. And you said yourself Justice isn’t a demon. With practice…” She trailed off when he shook his head.

He let out a long, slow breath, “We don’t know that anything will ever change. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I’m the healer though, that’s my job. And I’m not willing to put you and your sister at risk. Once you’re rested you’re going back out those doors, for good. No arguments.” He stood and walked to his little room in the back. He needed a fresh change of clothes and a shave, not to mention a break from Bethany.

********

Sekhmet came back with a change of clothes for her. She set them down beside Bethany and scowled as she looked around. “Where’s Anders?”

“In his room, he’s only been back there for a little while. I think he’s changing. Maybe you should go check on him.” She gave Sekhmet a devious smile.

Her sister scowled at her, “Beth, this isn’t a game. I told you things with Anders are finished. I brought you here because you needed to be healed. That’s it.” She held her hand out, “Here, can you stand? We’ll get you behind the curtain over there so you can change.”

Slowly, she climbed to her feet feeling shaky and unsteady. She’d barely made it into a standing position when her sister shook her head and pushed her gently back down to sit on the cot. It was probably for the best, she wasn’t sure she could have made it to the curtains but it was frustrating, and irritating. Anders had healed her, why was she so weak?

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Sekhmet strode across the clinic and knocked on Anders’ door. “Hey, need you to stay put for a few minutes while I help Bethany change.”

Anders’ muffled voice wafted through the door. “Sure thing.”

Bethany was surprised with how gentle her sister was while she helped her change clothes. It was embarrassing how frail she felt. She giggled when Sekhmet pulled her bedraggled looking slippers onto her feet. “What are you doing?”

Sekhmet shrugged looking a little embarrassed, “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You always have cold feet, I thought they might help.”

When her sister started tugging the blankets back up around her waist she stopped her, “I’m alright, Sekhmet, promise.”

Her sister nodded and stepped back. “All clear, come on out, Anders.”

He’d barely taken three steps out of the room when Sekhmet snapped at him. “What the Void were you thinking? You left her alone? What if something had happened while you were preening?”

Anders took it in stride and just nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Bethany almost smiled; maybe he was getting the hang of dealing with Sekhmet finally. Sekhmet just stood there looking at him for a minute, totally surprised before she muttered. “Well, okay.”

Bethany cringed when her sister settled behind her and pulled out a hairbrush. Her sister wasn’t known for being particularly patient or gentle when it came to brushing hair. “How long are you staying, sis?”

“As long as you are.” Her fingers started gently combing through Beth’s hair detangling the knots.

“I’ll be fine here with Anders if you have other things to do.” She wasn’t sure she could take Sekhmet hovering over her all day.

“I’m not leaving you here alone. Besides, I have nothing planned.” She was being surprisingly gentle.

“So how long am I stuck here?” This she directed at Anders.

“Not sure, it depends on how well you bounce back. Healing people is part magic and part the body’s own work. Each injury and each person are different. I could heal the same injury on two people and one would be able to get up and about no problem immediately, while the other might need a week of bed rest. How do you feel?” He stopped refilling canisters on his workbench and headed towards them.

“Weak, a little shaky, like there’s butterflies in my stomach.” Apparently, she wasn’t the type of person who bounced back immediately.

Anders nodded, “We’ll keep you on bed rest today, make sure you eat and keep hydrated and we’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow. I’ll just keep the clinic closed today. 

Beth shook her head, if he kept the clinic closed they would both be hovering over her all day. Sekhmet would get antsy and then Bethany would have to listen to Anders and Sekhmet argue all day. She was having none of it. “No, it’s alright. Go ahead and open it, you’d be surprised what I can sleep through.” She didn’t want to make Anders life difficult, and what if the clinic was one of the things Sekhmet kept Anders from?

He looked to Sekhmet, “What do you think?”

Her sister was carefully running the brush through her hair; probably the most careful Sekhmet had ever been while brushing Bethany’s hair. “We can move Bethany to your room, if you don’t mind. We’ll leave the door cracked open so she can call if she needs anything, and of course we’ll check on her. And you and I can take care of patients. At the very least it will stop us from going stir crazy.”

He nodded before heading to the fire and getting a cup of broth himself. “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll carry you back. I don’t want you trying to walk if you’re feeling weak.”

********

Apparently, the sunrise had signaled the end of the truce between him and Hawke. She was calm and soft spoken with Beth but barely looked at Anders. When she did she scowled or glared, depending on the situation. At first he had thought she was just in a bad mood because of her lack of sleep. A few hours of having the clinic open though made it painfully clear that she was just angry with him.

She was pleasant and accommodating with the patients. Apologizing to those who noted she had recently been absent. And as carefully as he listened, she didn’t make any promises to stay either. Which was good, he’d told Bethany that once she was better he’d be ending all ties with them again and he meant it. Now he just had to find the strength to actually do it.

He spent most of the day on edge, trying to stay out of Hawke’s way. Thankfully, none of the patients seemed to notice the tension between the two of them. On his way to check on Bethany he’d made the mistake of touching her, just placing his hand on her shoulder as he moved past her. She jerked away from him, snarling. “Stop it.”

“Sorry,” he muttered putting his hand back down to his side, watching as she moved to the other side of the clinic, as far away from him as she could. Like Anders was poison. 

So, that was it, Anders was now an island. Alone. Razors and salt couldn’t have hurt him more. The realization left him literally cold. The rest of the afternoon he struggled to warm himself as he waded through patients, looking for another and another as soon as he was finished, anything to keep him busy, away from Hawke and thoughts of her.

It was Hawke that finally doused the lamps and closed the doors. He immediately retreated to his desk pulling out parchment, an evening writing more ideas about what he hoped to accomplish for the mages would hopefully keep him distracted. Anything to keep busy.

Hawke headed for his room at the rear of the clinic, pausing for a moment at the doorway. He felt her gaze on him but pretended not to notice. Finally, she slipped into the room without a word. Several hours passed, he’d actually managed a decent job of making a list of some ideas to help mages with rough ideas of how to execute those ideas.

He jerked around at the sound of wood scraping along the clinic’s floor. Hawke was dragging a cot towards his room. With her small size the thing was a bit unwieldy. He strode to her and picked the cot up, “Here, I can get it.” He carried it back not waiting for an argument from her. That done he grabbed some fresh linens and even managed to find a couple of clean blankets, giving Hawke a fairly comfortable place to sleep beside her sister.

She didn’t say anything just unpinned her snow white hair and bent to remove her boots. He spent a few minutes cleaning up what little mess the two of them had left after their last patients. When he glanced towards the room again he was surprised to see Hawke laying down watching him. He couldn’t read her gaze and when she realized he had seen her she turned away, curling on her side.

He left the door open so he could check on Bethany periodically without waking them up. Hawke tossed and turned for hours before she finally dozed off. Anders paced, tried to write, rearranged his supplies and still found himself leaning against the door frame watching the two women sleep. He felt oddly at peace watching them. Funny, that two sisters at war with the world would bring him such a feeling of peace. 

Bethany stirred as many feelings within him as Hawke did. He wanted to protect the younger Hawke sister from the Circle, from the Templars and from the horrors of the world in general. And there was much he could show her. Her father had made a good start of it, but there were many things Anders could still teach the girl. He’d enjoyed the hours he spent with her, honing her craft. She was truly brilliant.

And though being with Hawke was as much of a torment as it was a pleasure she always made him feel human. He slid to the floor to sit and watched over them. Come morning Hawke would shut him out again, he knew, but for now in the darkness of the night she belonged to him. His heart’s desire secreted away in this place sleeping in his room under his watchful gaze.

Morning crept in slowly and with great difficulty he pried himself away from his charges and started a pot of oats for breakfast. He could feel Justice stirring, calm, but curious about their visitors. The spirit wasn’t used to the idea of others sharing their space. Anders’ turmoil confused Justice as well. As far as the spirit was concerned, they had severed all ties with Hawke and Bethany; there was no reason for Anders to be in such a dither.

As the oats boiled he dragged his fingers through his hair detangling it quickly before pulling it back. He glanced around for something to do to keep him occupied but he had done it all during the night before he started his vigil. He glanced to his desk; surely there was something he could be doing.

“You look lost.”

He jumped at the unexpected sound of Hawke’s voice, which earned her laughter. He turned to look at her sheepishly, “I’m not used to company. I feel like there’s something I should be doing.”

She sat up cross legged and grabbed her pack from the floor digging her brush from it. “Perhaps you could put on some water? I brought some chicory if you’d like.”

He nodded and went to put a kettle on the fire beside the oats; it was something to occupy him for a moment at least. Hawke was being pleasant so far and he would enjoy it while it lasted. By the time he returned her hair was already brushed and pinned back as per usual. He had rather liked it down, but kept his opinion to himself. He checked on Bethany, for lack of anything else to do and was surprised that she was still sleeping so hard.

“She doesn’t usually sleep like this does she?” He asked gently, not wanting to worry Hawke.

“No, is something wrong?” She was fidgeting now, looking like she wanted to wake Bethany up.

He shook his head, “No, I suppose I just expected her to bounce back more quickly because of how easily you recover after I’ve healed you. We’re all different though. I’ve seen people take a week or more to recover completely after injuries like the ones Bethany had.”

“So we could be stuck here for a whole week?” She looked rather worried.

“As soon as she feels up to it we’ll get her back to Gamlen’s and she can finish resting there. Nothing to worry about.” Bethany was fine, just tired. He could understand why Hawke wouldn’t want to stay though. “Listen; if you have things to do she can stay here with me. Or if you prefer we can take her to your uncle’s and I can keep an eye on her there.”

“Trying to get rid of me again? If I didn’t know better I’d say you wanted to be alone with my sister.” Her voice was quiet and he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.

“I just know you don’t want to be stuck here, especially with me.” He moved to check on the water and oats.

There was silence for a while, but he felt Hawke’s eyes follow him around the clinic as he tried to keep himself busy. He wouldn’t open the clinic till Bethany was awake and fed. With nothing left to do he moved to sit at his desk feeling antsy and awkward.

“Why did you do it, Anders? Why drag me all the way back here just to kick me out?” She had followed him across the room on silent feet.

He’d been waiting for it, knew sooner or later she would want to address it. Still, part of him had been hoping she’d leave it alone. He slipped the parchment still on his desk into a drawer before turning to look at her. “I don’t have an explanation that will suddenly fix everything between us. I have no interest in fixing things. Everything is as it should be.” 

He had to turn away before the last sentence escaped him. The image of her standing in Fenris’ arms nearly undid him. He waited for her to argue, to push him for more but all he heard was her footsteps moving away and towards the fire. Leaving him on his own again, wishing for a distraction.

After everyone was up and fed Hawke unlocked the doors and lit the lanterns. And of course because he wanted to be busy there were no patients waiting to come in. After a few idle minutes he went to see how Bethany was feeling. She was still terribly pale but there was nothing wrong with her outside of her fatigue.

“I…” Bethany stopped, took a deep breath and spoke again. “Something weird is going on, Anders.”

He had been standing up when she spoke but quickly settled back down. “Like what?” 

She hesitated again, almost smiling. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Why was she smiling if she thought there was something wrong with her? “Beth, I just checked you, you’re fine.” 

She shook her head, “No, I can’t feel my magic. It’s gone and I haven’t been in the Fade since I was hurt.”

That explained it. Bethany wanted to be normal so badly, he hated to disappoint her. “Oh Beth, I’m sorry.” If only the chantry didn’t work so hard to convince people that magic was a curse. This beautiful and talented woman wouldn’t be hoping that she was permanently damaged. 

He explained it a gently as he could, she wasn’t going to be happy. “Here I was supposed to be teaching you about healing and I didn’t even think to tell you about mage injuries. Sometimes when a mage’s body experiences a severe injury like yours they temporarily lose touch with their magic. It’s like the body turns it off until it recovers from the shock. Your body is conserving energy while it recovers from being forced to expend so much energy on the healing.” 

“You mean it’ll come back?” She looked down at her hands as she spoke, almost glaring at them as if they had offended her.

“Yes, you’re still recovering. It’ll probably take a few days but then it will be back.” He’d never heard of a mage losing their magic permanently, unless they were made Tranquil, of course.

“What are you two whispering about back here?” Hawke was in the doorway looking at them curiously.

“Just mage stuff.” He gave a little shrug, it was probably best that Hawke wasn’t aware of just how much Bethany had hoped her magic was gone for good.

“Well if you two are done plotting, there are patients here to be seen.” Her voice was a clipped, irritated.

What was she being so snippy about already? He hadn’t even been back there all that long. And it wasn’t like they were being overrun with patients. “I’ll be out when I’m done here. I’m sure you can handle it for now.” The day was just starting and they were both annoyed already. It was going to be a lovely day.

Hawke huffed at him and left.

Bethany gave him a small smile. “Izzy says if you would just bed my sister already you two wouldn’t fight so much.”

He chuckled, “Are you honestly asking me to take advice from Isabela?” It would sure improve his mood; it had been ages since he’d even been able to gratify himself. 

“Is she right?” Beth was clearly feeling impish this morning.

He rubbed his forehead, talking about sex and Hawke with Bethany was probably a bad idea. “Probably. It’ not going to happen though, your sister and I have decided to go our separate ways.” And now Hawke had another man to fill her needs. “Besides, I’m not in the habit of bedding another man’s woman.”

Bethany scowled. “They’re so wrong for each other. They’re so awkward and self conscious around each other. I don’t think there is anything going on; they’re both trying to make something happen.” Bethany shifted, tucking the blanket around her waist more tightly. “He’s trying to take your place.”

He’d been about to ask ‘how so’, but it was none of his business. It was best to steer the conversation someplace safer. “Besides your magic, how are you feeling today?”

“Still tired, still weak. How long am I going to feel like I can hardly stay awake?” 

He was glad she let the subject of Fenris drop. “I’m not sure. Do you want to go back to Gamlen’s? If you don’t think you can walk I can carry you.”

“No, I don’t want to head back there. I’m not sure I can deal with him right now. I’m fine here, if you don’t mind having me here.” She gave him an expectant look.

What she was expecting he had no idea. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

And now he was beginning to regret that statement. The day had seemed unending; Hawke was mostly silent, at least towards Anders; she answered direct questions quickly and politely but otherwise didn’t really acknowledge his presence. He wasn’t sure why but her silent treatment pissed him off. And as the day dragged on he went out of his way to ask her direct questions to force her to talk to him. Even then she was mostly monosyllabic.

He didn’t push it while they were taking patients but once he had doused the lamps and locked the doors he made a beeline to where she was standing putting away some elfroot she hadn’t used. 

“So, at what point are we going to stop behaving like children and start acting like adults?” His voice must have carried because the door to his room slowly creaked open; Bethany had pushed it as far as she could reach.

Hawke didn’t respond, she cocked an eyebrow and watched him, speculatively.

She was so infuriating he wanted to yell, but he controlled himself. “Fine, have it your way.” He turned away from her trying to figure out how he was going to occupy himself for the rest of the night so he wouldn’t press Hawke further.

“What is it you want from me, Anders? You begged me to talk to you after the incident with Justice. So I come all the way back to this stinking hole, _for you_.” She stalked towards him, her voice rising with each sentence. “So _you_ can talk over what happened to ease _your_ mind. Instead, you tell me to leave you alone, forget you exist. And then you just left me standing here.” She stomped her foot, and he could see she was gritting her teeth and balling her fists up. “So just what the _fuck_ is it you want from me?” The last sentence came out as a shrill scream.

He closed his eyes, running his fingers through the loosened strands of his hair in frustration. He could walk across the floor right now, pull her into his arms and kiss her, or pin her against the wall and whisper, _“just you”_ into her ear. He could fall to his knees at her feet and beg her, _“love me, please”_.

He did each of them in his mind, and would over and over again throughout the night. But just then he opened his eyes, and gave her a small shrug and tried to look conciliatory. “Can we find some middle ground between enemies and friends?”

Hawke took a shaky breath, “You’ll be the death of me.”

He gave a faint nod, followed by a soft whisper, “I nearly was.” The memory stabbed at him, sharp and painful all over again.

Slow footsteps brought her to him. Her hands reached up for a moment, nearly taking his own hands before they dropped back to her sides. “I won’t argue with you. You’re right; we should be able to be adults about this.”

He wanted her to touch him, each time she stopped herself it made him ache more for it. He nodded then went to clean off his own work table. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, Bethany dozed on and off. Hawke settled down to read for a while and was even nice enough to lend him a book as well. 

It might have been just to keep him from talking with her, but it was appreciated nonetheless. Books were a luxury he couldn’t really afford. In fact, all the books he had read since reaching Kirkwall had been on loan from Hawke. They were all in rough shape, but were still readable. He didn’t ask where she got them, and didn’t really care. It was better than not having anything at all to read. Books were one of the few things he missed about the Circle. And one of many things his missed about the Keep.

Eventually, she closed her book and bedded down for the night. He finished the book he had borrowed, and set it back beside her pack, picking up the one she’d been reading before sleep claimed her. Careful not to lose her place he read that one as well. 

He was surprised to find it was a text on logarithms. He knew Hawke was smart, but an academic? The woman was still full of surprises. Closing the book and putting it back he moved to lie down on a cot. He likely wouldn’t get much sleep but he should at least try to catch a few hours if he could. 

He was roused a few hours later by the sound of someone moving around the clinic. He summoned a wisp quickly rolling on his side to look around the clinic. He found Hawke sitting on the floor placing wood onto the remaining coals of the fire. She paused and turned towards the new source of light.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t wake you did I?” She rocked back on her heels and stood up.

She must be having a rough night. He supposed it was to be expected, neither of them had an especially easy time sleeping. “It’s alright, I’m a light sleeper. You haven’t been down all that long. Nightmare?” He sat up, swinging his long legs over the side of the cot and found he was still wearing his boots. “Your father again?” He prompted gently, perhaps if she talked about it she could get back to sleep. 

“Carver,” it was a strangled whisper.

Her voice took him by surprise. He took a closer look at her, her eyes were red rimmed. Had she been crying? Part of him wanted to hug her, but hugs were something reserved for friends. And they were no longer friends. She could barely tolerate him at all now. So instead he sympathized as best he could. “Sorry.”

She nodded and settled next to him, sending his heart racing a bit. He wasn’t sure what he should be doing; would comforting her make her angry again? He tried to relax and just watched her for now. She pulled her knees up, almost protectively and wrapped her arms around them staring off into the gloom in front of them. 

Finally, Anders bent down and began unlacing his boots. His feet had been confined inside too long already. She turned to watch him; he could feel her eyes on him. When his feet were finally free he sat back up, she was still watching him.

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask, she had been watching him a lot the last few days.

She gave him a shaky smile, “Aren’t you used to being watched?”

He chuckled a little, “Well, you aren’t wearing a helmet.”

“Surely, with your looks Templars aren’t the only ones who stare.” She broke eye contact, and her voice still sounded a little sad.

“Please, don’t flirt with me Hawke.” He’d never be able to maintain his pledge if she did.

“I…” She stopped for a long time, taking several slow breaths before tipping her head back and looking at the ceiling. “I’m not. You’re tall; you have a tattoo as well as a scar on your face. Those kinds of things draw a lot of attention. Even your patients stare at you. I just thought you’d be used to people watching you by now.”

“Oh,” yes, he was disappointed. Yes, a part of him had foolishly been hoping she was flirting with him. And why not, she flirted with perfect strangers. “Maybe it feels different to me because you know me.”

She nodded and a grim smile touched her lips for a few moments, “I used to think I did.” Her voice was back to nearly a whisper.

Anders kept silent, there was nothing to say. Anything he would have said would make things harder, either for him or for her. Either that or they would end up fighting again. If this was the last time he was going to see her he didn’t want to fight anymore. 

They sat in silence for a while, both staring at the fire. It was close to an hour later when Hawke spoke again. “Do you think people have the power to haunt dreams when they die?”

He was surprised, was that what Hawke thought? He turned to look at her, the firelight reflected in her blue eyes. “Is that what you think is happening, that Carver is haunting your dreams?”

She shook her head and shrugged, “I don’t know.”

He spoke softly, hoping to soothe her a little. “Hawke, I didn’t know Carver but I doubt he would haunt your dreams.”

“You’re right, you didn’t know him. He’d want to make sure I never forgot how…” her breath hitched and for a moment he thought she was going to cry but she just let out a shuddery breath. She turned to face Anders and smiled, a small smile that came nowhere near reaching her eyes. “Never mind, I’m being silly, must be overtired. Perhaps I’ll try to get more sleep.” She hopped up and walked quickly back into his room disappearing inside.

Anders didn’t know much about Hawke and Bethany’s brother but the more he learned the more he didn’t like him. What kind of man could have his sister so twisted up inside she thought he was haunting her dreams to blame her for his death? Maybe it was just Hawke’s own sense of guilt. He lay back down, folding his arms behind his head listening to the sounds of fire crackling until he managed to doze back off. 

********

Bethany lay still on her cot not wanting to wake Sekhmet, or Anders who was still sleeping in the clinic. She’d woken up a few times during the night and the two of them had been talking quietly together so she knew neither of them had much sleep. She’d been hopeful that they would be able to be resolve things between them somehow, at least enough that they could tolerate being around each other.

She was going to talk to Sekhmet today; she really felt they needed to bring Anders to the Deep Roads. He was the only one of them that had ever been there before. The Deep Roads were notoriously dangerous and it would be stupid to go without some guidance. Anders was also a Grey Warden, and people said Wardens could sense Darkspawn before they appeared.

If that was true it was all the more reason they needed to have him with them. He could warn them and give them a better chance of survival. A tiny part of her was saying Anders was a danger but she really felt that mostly it had to do with the Templars. He had travelled with them for almost a year with no problems like that.

Sekhmet told her about practicing with Anders and Justice, how she had been exposed to Justice dozens if not hundreds of times and he’d never hurt her. It wasn’t that she was alright with what had happened, but in a way Anders was learning to be a mage all over again. Bethany knew from experience that with magic accidents happen when you’re learning.

And Anders had saved her life. Even when he had said he wanted nothing to do with them he had saved her life and had let them stay in his clinic while she recovered her strength. She’d been thinking it over for the last few days. She was going to have to talk with Sekhmet, they needed Anders at least for the Deep Roads expedition and Sekhmet was going to have to find a way to make it happen.

Her sister wasn’t going to be pleased. Anders had hurt her and she was still hurt and angry. It had sounded as if she and Anders were making some headway last night. Maybe they just needed a little more time, and thankfully Bethany had the perfect way to make sure they got it. She rolled over and closed her eyes trying to figure out what she was going to say to her sister.

A few hours later she heard movement in the clinic. She rolled back over and realized she must have dozed back off, Sekhmet was gone. After a moment she heard hushed tones in the clinic again. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were talking and it didn’t sound like an argument.

It was a step in the right direction at least. She pushed herself up so she was sitting and for the first time since she’d been brought to Anders clinic it didn’t make her dizzy. She stretched and debated trying to stand then stopped as an idea struck her. 

Yesterday she’d caught Sekhmet watching Anders again and again. Her sister obviously missed him even if she was still angry with him. And Anders reaction to her sister’s treatment made it obvious he wanted more than what Sekhmet was giving him, even if he couldn’t seem to admit it.

She didn’t like the idea of making either of their lives harder or more painful, but sacrifices had to be made. It wasn’t likely they’d make it out of the Deep Roads safely without Anders’ experience or his healing. If he wasn’t going it would be smarter for her to just pack her bags and head to the Gallows now. It would be safer for everyone.

Sadness settled over her. Perhaps she should just do it anyways. If she was in the Circle Sekhmet could move on and make a life for herself. She wouldn’t turn herself in though, she knew better. Instead of moving on Sekhmet would likely try to free her or spend her life punishing Templars for it and would probably die doing so.

She curled up as tears pricked her eyes. In their own way the two sisters trapped each other. Sekhmet trapped into a life keeping her sister free from the Templars and Bethany trapped into keeping her sister from throwing her life away. 

Sekhmet always told Bethany her magic was a gift, but at times like this is was easier to believe it was a curse. And now Anders was their third and they would trap him just as surely as they had trapped each other. Or maybe they would all go up in flames instead, burn each other to ashes.

The voices from the clinic died down and someone was headed to Anders’ room. She quickly wiped her eyes and took a calming breath looking up as Sekhmet entered the room. She gave her sister a smile, “Hi.”

“I didn’t realize you were awake.” Sekhmet sat down on the cot across from her.

“I’ve only been awake for a minute or so. Is everything alright?” Beth thought Sekhmet looked really worn.

She nodded, “Bad dreams last night. I’m just tired, hun.”

Bethany glanced out through the doorway but couldn’t see Anders. “You two aren’t fighting again are you?”

“No, we were talking about his lack of supplies. Anders doesn’t really keep much food on hand. I’m heading to the market this morning and he’s going to stay with you.” She reached to the floor and picked up her pack, digging through it.

“Promise me you won’t fight with him anymore.” When her sister whipped her head she held her gaze.

“Why do you care Beth? We’re not going to be here much longer and then he’ll be out of our lives.” She pulled her coin purse out of her pack finally and tied it to her belt. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling today? Ready to get out of here, yet?”

She gave her sister and half hearted shrug, “A little better than yesterday. Still really tired though. And I mean it, Sekhmet, promise. He saved my life, and we’ve taken over his home, the least we can do is not yell at him too.”

Sekhmet rolled her eyes, “Fine, I promise I won’t fight with him anymore. Now about getting you out of here…”

“I don’t think I can. I’m just too tired, and I can’t stomach the idea of being cooped up with Gamlen while I’m bedridden.” She gave her sister a sweet smile, hoping she would drop the issue.

“Fine, alright. Do you want anything while I’m at the market?” Sekhmet was strapping her daggers on, ready to get out. She was probably feeling cooped up.

She shook her head; they needed to save as much of their money as they could. She knew they were really close to being able to afford the 50 sovereigns for the expedition. 

Sekhmet chuckled, “Sweets it is then.” She disappeared out of the room.

Beth heard Sekhmet and Anders talking again for a moment but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then Anders was peeking his head into the room.

“How’s my favorite mage?” He asked gently.

She waived him into the room. “I’m tired, but is there something I can do? I’ll go crazy sitting here doing nothing all day.”

He gave her a small smile, “I have mending I haven’t done if you get desperate, but why don’t you read one of the books your sister brought.”

“I’ve read all of her books that I’m interested in. Let me do the mending.” Her sister’s taste in books lately left something to be desired.

He chuckled, “I was kidding. Just get some rest.”

“Anders, if you don’t give me something to do the first thing I do when I get my magic back will be to set your hair on fire.” 

He laughed, “Well that answers that question. Fine, let me get the basket. Just remember to tell your sister it was your idea.” He turned and walked to the corner of the room; he pulled out a largish basket from the corner and walked towards her with a sheepish look. “I haven’t done it in a while and with the clinic…” he shrugged.

“Good, this should keep me busy for a day or two.” She gave him a smile and started looking through the items in the basket while Anders rummaged through a drawer.

He pulled out a small wooden box and set it beside her. “Everything you need should be in here. Beth, are you really alright? Let me check you over again.”

She smiled, “Go ahead, I know, I’m surprised I’m such a wimp too. I always thought of myself as pretty tough.”

He checked her over again, his cool magic flowing over her like water. The sapphire color making her skin look almost ghostly. “I have a feeling this isn’t just about the injuries. You and your sister both have atrocious sleep habits. Your injury just made rest a necessity finally.”

She responded without thinking. “Sekhmet has dreams.”

He stopped the flow of his magic and gave her a surprised look. “Do her dreams wake you?”

She shrugged not wanting to make a big deal out of it. Her sister was very private about her dreams. She didn’t even know what Sekhmet dreamt about, though she had her suspicions. “Sometimes she cries out…like you.”

Anders flushed, “I didn’t realize…I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m guessing you saw a lot of awful things in the Wardens. If it makes you feel any better it was only twice and I think Sekhmet and I were the only ones who heard.” She smiled hoping he would relax; right now he looked like he wanted to run away.

“Oh.” And that was it; he looked at her blankly for a moment before seeming to come back to himself. “Everything checks out alright. I’ve some bread and jam if you’re hungry.”

She nodded, “Sounds good.”

With that he made a hasty retreat from the room.

********

He kept Bethany in the clinic for two more days. She needed the rest but she was the one that refused to go back to Gamlen’s. Anders knew what she was doing, purposely keeping him and Hawke cooped up together. He couldn’t even be angry about it. 

Fenris stayed away, which was surprising, but nice. His patients in the clinic seemed happy to see Hawke. Several even made comments about Anders himself seeming calmer and more relaxed. Had he been that different without her there?

Working together became easy; it had been second nature for them once already. Hawke was more relaxed and even teased him a little. She never mentioned Fenris and seemed to be in no hurry to see him, which pleased Anders to no end, even though it shouldn’t matter. Still, he liked to think that perhaps she still preferred his company to the elf’s.

Halfway through the second day Hawke had cornered him. “We need to talk.”

He tried to be calm, “Oh?”

“No, I suppose not. I’m going to talk, you’re going to listen.” She smiled a real smile, a beautiful smile.

He smiled a little in return, relieved. “Alright.”

Her smile dissolved into a more resolute look. “Justice was the one that hurt me, not you. I put you and him in a situation I shouldn’t have. You tried to warn me, I didn’t listen. What happened is my fault. I know you don’t have complete control over Justice. We both know to be more careful in the future.” 

He shifted and opened his mouth to tell her there could be no future but she put her hand to her lips in a shushing motion. “No, I said listen. After that last job we’re really close to heading to the Deep Roads. When we first met you said you’d help me with whatever I needed until then. I expect you to keep your word, understand?” She was watching him closely.

He sighed, “Yes.” What was he going to say? _“No, I lied.”_ or _“I can’t, I like you too much.”_ She’d just argue with him until he gave her what she wanted anyways.

Her smile was back now, “Furthermore,”

He quirked a brow, “There’s more?”

“Furthermore, I plan on helping out here again, so you better get used to seeing me around again.” She was watching him, smirking, waiting for him to disagree.

“Yeah, that’ll be a hardship.” He bit his tongue; he really needed to not flirt with her. He had even more reason to stop now. Besides all his usual reasons, now she belonged to someone else. 

He’d watched her and Bethany sleeping the last two nights, surprised by how much he cared for the pair of them. Bethany felt more like a sibling to him than his real siblings. And Hawke, well, she might not want it anymore but she had his heart. Thinking he could just push them out of his life had been foolish.

His life might be a mess most of the time, but the two of them made it worth going on everyday. He’d decided to redouble his efforts to control Justice last night. He wanted to try to be there for Bethany, wanted to try to help her out no matter what she needed. 

Her magic had started to return yesterday and the two of them had a long talk about her magic, her training under her father’s tutelage and Anders’ healing ability. It seemed to fascinate the younger Hawke sister for some reason.

And when he could be sure he was safe…well, those were thoughts for another day.

“Good, when we can get Beth back to Gamlen’s, Varric and I are going to track down a rumor, you’re coming along.” Her face was serious, her eyes watching him carefully.

He nodded, “Very well, I’m in your service till you set me free.”

Her eyes changed, darkened, her stare more intense. “Be careful what you offer me Anders, I may never let you go.” She turned and walked away from him quickly after that.

Heart racing and insides aflutter he’d fumbled around like an awkward teenager for almost an hour after that. She may not like him very much right now, but apparently at least some part of her still wanted him. And that look hadn’t been lust. It had been something else…territorial, possessive almost. The idea of belonging to her, of being _hers_ had made him feel weak kneed and he couldn’t deny it…elated. Which surprised him; he had never had any desire to actually _belong_ to anyone before. Perhaps it didn’t matter, it was the truth already. He was _hers_.


	21. The Lioness Falls

They’d left Bethany at Gamlen’s and had picked up Isabela and Varric at the Hanged man. Varric had given Hawke a big smile when he saw her, a smile that melted a little when he saw Anders standing behind her. He gave Anders a curt nod.

“Thought your days of traveling with our merry band were over, Blondie?” He was pleasant enough about it; Anders wasn’t sure if he was just surprised or actually upset about it.

He was about to respond when Hawke answered for him. “I asked him to come along.”

“Asked?” He couldn’t help the amusement.

She flashed Anders a smile, warming and calming him considerably. “Well, I suppose ordered is a more appropriate word for it.”

Varric’s smile reappeared, “And we all know better than to disobey Hawke when she’s issuing orders.”

Izzy smiled at him, “Really? Perhaps she should try some more interesting orders then. How about it Hawke? There has to be something you’d like to order our sexy mage to do for you…or to you?”

Anders didn’t look at Hawke, couldn’t look at her just then. After being penned in so close together for days and his recent revelation he wasn’t sure there was much he wouldn’t do just then. Constant exposure to her with no escape had left him needy and raw, emotionally exposed and perpetually a hair’s breadth away from aroused. The idea of being ordered to do her bidding definitely had its appeal. 

If she ordered him to strip right where he was he wasn’t sure he’d even protest, if it meant she’d touch him. She hadn’t touched him at all since first coming into his clinic and he felt like he was starving for her touch. And orders? The idea sent shivers down his spine, standing before her naked, while she remained clothed…in her armor even. Leather clad fingers skimming down his chest, down his abdomen and…

Izzy chuckled, “I think our darling mage has some ideas to get you started, Hawke.”

Hawke giggled, “Roughed up and now ordered around? Well, well, well Anders I had no idea you had such a submissive side.”

He suppressed a smile though his mouth ran without checking with his brain first, “Neither did I.”

All three of them laughed and Anders was glad, he’d rather have him laughing at him then thinking about what he had done to Hawke. For now, for as long as he traveled with her it would be easier if no one thought too much about Justice attacking Hawke. So he let them laugh and tried to stop thinking about Hawke touching him.

As the laughter died down Hawke turned her attention back to Varric, “So where do we start chasing down this rumor?”

Anders frowned; surprised they weren’t going to get Fenris. He figured Hawke would bring him along because she missed him, if not as a measure to try to keep Anders and Justice in line. “You’re not bringing Fenris?”

She stopped, smile gone replaced with a scowl, “What is it with you and Fenris? You want me to go get him?”

He’d made the mistake of asking her a couple mornings ago if she was going to see Fenris while she was at the market picking up supplies for the clinic and food. She had been less than pleased and told him to mind his own damn business. “No, I don’t. I just thought…you haven’t seen him in nearly a week.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll probably see him when we’re done.” She turned her back to him, effectively silencing him while she spoke with Varric.

Varric had heard that the woman looking for help was hanging around the Foundry district. They’d found her easily enough. A Chantry lay sister making bad decisions and had nearly gotten herself killed. Anders’ gut clenched, if this job was for the Chantry he should probably sit it out. No need to rile Justice unnecessarily.

After saving the woman from possible death at the hand of a band of thugs they found out she had a Templar with her. Justice snarled in his head, a fitting accompaniment to the look of sheer disgust on Hawke’s face. She was obviously displeased by the turn of events. 

She glanced to him, flashing him a quick smile. The reassurance was very welcome; he thought she might have been frightened of him. He should have known better. Did Hawke even feel fear?

The woman asked them to meet her for more information on the job at a hovel in Lowtown, not far from Gamlen’s. When she walked away Anders moved close to Hawke to try to stop the others from overhearing their conversation.

“I’m going to head back to the clinic.” She might not feel fear but he did, he was terrified he would attack her again. “I have no desire to be in a room with you and a Templar.”

She gave a faint nod. “I understand, but we don’t know what they want. Come with me to the house at least. Let’s find out what they want. If they’re looking for help of any kind for the Templars we’ll all leave, together.”

He sighed, should he just go and try to avoid an argument? He supposed he could stay close to the door and away from Hawke, if something didn’t feel right he could just leave. If he was smart he’d just leave now, it wasn’t worth the risk. He rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“I’ll make it an order if it makes it easier.” Hawke whispered conspiratorially with a grin.

His eyes drifted closed and he gave a faint nod at the same time he screamed at himself in his head. _“What the fuck kind of game am I playing at?”_ He knew what kind of game it was though. He was looking to have the decision taking from his hands. He wanted to go with her, wanted to be with her but it was easier to tell himself she had made him go in case something went horribly wrong.

“You’re coming with me to this house to hear this sister out. Understood?” Her voice was firm and strong.

He opened his eyes, her grin was gone and she was watching him with intense and serious eyes. She seemed to understand his need, if not his reasons. “Understood.” He murmured. 

When he glanced past her Varric and Isabela were both watching the duo with odd looks on their faces. Varric’s lips were pressed together in a thin line and Izzy was looking at them both in confusion. He couldn’t even explain it to her. He had no idea what was going on with him right now.

Hawke turned away and walked off, the others fell into step behind her and Anders brought up the rear. He would stay back, would keep some distance between himself and Hawke. Something was going on with him that he didn’t really understand. His need to be with her was trumping both his common sense and his need to keep her safe. It wasn’t right by any stretch of the imagination.

It didn’t make any sense to him. He had never exactly been a gentleman, but he couldn’t remember ever putting someone’s safety directly in jeopardy with his actions. Not knowingly at least. So what was he doing now? Was it the jealousy? Was that what was making him act so rashly, so…stupidly?

Maybe it was just the prospect of going back to the clinic alone tonight that had him acting so strangely. After having the Hawke sisters there for so long it was going to feel twice as empty and alone when he returned. There would be none of the Hawke sisters’ laughter to cheer the place up. None of their teasing, no middle of the night conversations with Hawke, it would feel lonely indeed.

The idea depressed him. As they reached the door he reassured himself that he could always go to the Hanged Man for a while if he felt too alone. He still had plenty of stories he could share with Varric or he could join Isabela for a bit. She was fairly harmless if you could ignore her constant invitations to bed. 

Hawke entered the run down building to be greeted by the Templar, blade drawn. Justice tried to come through convinced this was a trap. Anders held him in check, for now. Hawke would dispatch the man quick enough if this was indeed treachery.

She tilted her head and Anders knew if he could see her face she’d be smiling. “Nice to see you too, darling.”

The sister moved from the other room, seeming to float with her feet hidden by the long hem of her robes. She gave the Templar a brief nod and he melted away, disappearing backwards, nearly into shadow which only put Justice more on edge. Anders backed up as well, pushing his back against the door and resting his hand on the handle, ready to bolt if need be, to get away from the Templar or Hawke depending on what happened next.

“I’m glad you’ve come, I’m sister Petrice.” She held a hand out towards Hawke in greeting.

Hawke looked down at her hand, but didn’t take it. “What is this job you need done?” Her voice was uncharacteristically harsh. Apparently, she wasn’t amused with the Templar’s antics on their arrival.

The sister nodded, “Right to business then. I’ve taken on a burden of charity and need someone to see it safely from the city.”

Anders scanned around the room, trying to figure out what needed to be taken from the city and why it needed an escort from Lowtown. The room was barren though. The sister moved into a side room and returned a moment later with a lumbering beast in tow.

Anders gut wrenched at the sight of the poor thing. A thick metal collar around its neck, mounted on its chest, held in place with heavy chains and weighted down with even more chains. It obscured part of its face. It was obviously Qunari but its horns had been shorn off and capped with metal to prevent them from growing more, or perhaps from being sharpened. A thick face mask was attached to what remained of them. The eye holes were partially obscured by metal grating and the bottom of the mask was broken off revealing lips that had been sewn shut.

Thick metal cuffs clamped tightly around its wrists, the scar tissue and skin built up around them showing the cuffs had been placed on a very long time ago. Thick metal even girded its waist, almost like a corset, disappearing underneath the fabric tied at its waist. How far did that metal go down? After seeing the other bondage Anders wouldn’t be surprised at all if it acted in a chastity capacity, preventing the poor thing from reproducing.

Hawke, fearless, foolish girl that she was, stepped closer to it…to him. “Why is he bound like that?” She snapped.

The sister watched Hawke with calculating eyes, sizing Hawke up? She gave a faint nod, “We were unable to find a way to release the poor thing from his bondage. He is one of their mages. Would even a Templar bind a mage in such a way?”

Anders must have let out a shocked gasp. Hawke turned to look at him, her eyes running a gamut of emotions, compassion, concern, horror and finally rage. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to figure out what had happened. She’d pictured him in bondage comparable to this man’s. 

“I never really thought of what life would be like for a mage in the Qun.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a whisper.

Hawke watched him for another moment before turning back to the sister. “What do you need from us?”

“This poor soul was a survivor of infighting. He was the only one left alive. I call him Ketojan-a bridge between worlds. I need him escorted from the city.” She spoke calmly and evenly, but she never looked to the Qunari of whom she spoke.

“What good is getting him out of the city if he’s still locked up in this?” She gestured to the heavy gear on the Qunari mage.

*********

Sister Petrice’s eyes narrowed as she spoke again, “At least it’s a chance for him to finally be free, would you deny him that?”

Sekhmet took a long slow breath; would releasing this poor soul outside the city even be helpful considering how he was bound? She’d nearly gotten sick when she tried to imagine Anders bound like this. Maybe they could find a way to free the Qunari from his bondage. She knew more than a little about locks, as did Varric and Izzy. And Anders probably knew more than most about magical restraints. 

He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave though. She turned her gaze back to the sister. “How do you know he even wants to be freed?”

The sister scowled, she didn’t seem to be pleased about answering questions at all. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Hawke.” Isabela shifted her weight from one foot to the other beside her.

Sekhmet knew the feeling, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea either, but the man was his own prison. Could she really leave him in the clutches of a Templar on top of that? “Maybe I should talk to the Arishok, I’ve had dealings with him before.”

Sister Petrice looked surprised, and for a moment just a little scared. Yes, Sekhmet supposed the sister would be scared. The Chantry probably painted the Arishok as some sort of horned boogey man. 

The sister calmed herself, “If you’ve had dealings with him then perhaps you know what they do to their outlaws.”

If this mage was Tal-Vashoth the Arishok would kill him pretty much on sight. “You’re sure he’s Tal-Vashoth?”

Sister Petrice nodded faintly, but Sekhmet wasn’t sure how she could possibly know for sure if he was the only survivor. Sekhmet’s gut was uncomfortable with the whole situation. They were so close to being able to afford the Deep Roads expedition though. 

She turned to Varric, “How much more do we need for the expedition?”

Varric scowled and shook his head, “This is a really bad idea Hawke, let’s just get out of here. We’ll find another job.”

“I’m with Varric on this one, Hawke.” Isabela weighed in.

Sekhmet turned to Anders looking for support. “And you?”

“I’m not going anywhere, he’s a mage and he needs our help. I belong here.” He wasn’t looking at her as he spoke; his eyes were still glued to the Qunari mage.

“I’ll pay four sovereigns.” Sister Petrice piped up.

“Ten,” Varric countered.

“Five,” Petrice looked excited.

Varric gave the sister and indulgent smile, “eight.”

“I…” she pulled open her coin purse and looked inside before looking back to Varric. “I have seven.”

“Deal,” he held out his hand and the two of them shook hands. He turned back to Sekhmet, “You’re going to owe me for this one, Hawke.”

She nodded to Varric, it wouldn’t be the first time she owed him, and likely wouldn’t be the last. Isabela didn’t look pleased but she didn’t leave either. So she turned her attention back to Sister Petrice and the Qunari mage she called Ketojan. “Can he protect himself, fight with us if necessary?”

The sister was surprised by the question. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to speak, just grunts. He’s done everything he’s been asked though and shown no signs of violence. You will likely need to protect him.” 

Which had been exactly what Sekhmet had feared, Ketojan was an awfully large target. Hopefully, if they were attacked he would know enough to try to get out of the way. Maybe, if she was really lucky, his mere appearance would make anyone think twice about attacking their merry band.

Varric rolled his eyes, “So, how do you suggest we get him out of the city. It’s not like the big guy will just blend in.”

“Ah yes,” Sister Petrice turned and gestured to a trap door in the floor of the next room. “This is a passageway to some underground warrens. They head out of town into a pass in the Vimmark mountains.”

“Isn’t that convenient?” Isabela grabbed one of her daggers and pulled it free, “Let’s get going before I come to my senses and leave.”

They headed down the passageway and as soon as they were a few hundred yards from the trap door Sekhmet stopped them all. “Ketojan, can you kneel?” He looked at her curiously but did nothing. “I want to look at your shackles, can you kneel?” This time she demonstrated the movement.

He grumbled at her but knelt. She walked carefully around him, concerned about getting too close but she was hoping she could free him. Oddly, she could see no locks, no fastening mechanisms. Was it magic? “Anders, come here.”

Anders moved closer to her and the peculiar feeling of him touching her fell over her once again, like his hands were skimming lightly over her skin. Every time he had looked at her for the last two days it felt like he was touching her. She wasn’t sure what exactly to make of it. It wasn’t that he had tried to touch her, he hadn’t. 

She’d been so confused the last couple of days, starting with that damn promise to Bethany not to fight with Anders. It made staying mad at the man practically impossible. He’d been so sweet and gentle with Bethany, and he had been calm and patient with Sekhmet. She had to keep reminding herself she was angry with him.

Every time she woke up during the night she found him awake. Which lead to them talking and talking and talking. She’d talked more with Anders in the last few days then she had to anyone in years. He was such a bastard. Why did he have to be so easy to talk to? Why did he have to be so good at listening? He was even good at silence, sitting there quietly not making her feel pressured or uncomfortable.

She’d tried to keep thinking about Fenris, but that just made it worse. Comparing the two men was a recipe for disaster. So instead she’d decided to just let herself off the hook. There was nothing wrong with her enjoying Anders’ company. They would be parting ways soon enough.

And then Bethany had taken even that surety away. When Beth had told her they needed Anders for the Deep Roads she’d wanted to argue. But Bethany had thought her strategy out soundly. When she finished talking Sekhmet had realized she had no choice but to make him go with them. 

Would he have said yes if she asked? She didn’t bother risking it, so instead she told him what was going to happen. He hadn’t argued, had even seemed a bit amused. 

“Hawke?” Anders’ voice cut into her reverie.

“Sorry, lots of things on my mind.” She responded automatically. “I can’t find any locks or mechanisms, these buckles on the shoulders seem to stop it from shifting back and forth but won’t let us remove it. Is it magic?”

Her skin prickled as Anders’ cool blue magic flowed over Ketojan as he knelt before them. He canted his head to the side, concentrating before shaking his head. “It has magic suppression sigils inside of it, but I can’t feel any other magic on it.”

Izzy strolled forward, bending close to get a better look. “How is that possible?”

Sekhmet was as confused as Isabela, “I have no idea.” She looked at the kneeling figure, almost as tall as she was on its knees. “Maybe we could cut it off, but I’m not sure how we would cut through metal that thick without injuring you.” The Qunari didn’t seem affected by the news at all. “I’m sorry we can’t get you out of this but we’ll still get you out of the city.” She motioned for him to get up and he did, quickly. 

It made Sekhmet a bit angry, the quick response to obey her obviously a trained one. Just what was the poor man going to do out in the world like this? He couldn’t talk, was locked forever in that awful…bondage, she wasn’t sure what to call it. 

She paused and turned to Anders, “I’m having second thoughts.”

“I know, let’s get him free of the city. Perhaps he can find the Tal-Vashoth and they can free him from it.” He spoke quickly, like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

“If he was Tal-Vashoth, they left him in this.” She countered.

“Maybe he wasn’t yet. Maybe he was one of the Arishok’s men and this is his chance at freedom.” He shrugged, “You never know.”

“Maybe we’re both full of shit.” She chuckled lightly.

He gave her a small smile, “Maybe. Do you want to give him back to the sister?”

“Fuck, no.” There was no way she was giving a mage back to the Chantry, Qunari or not.

“Then let’s get moving.” Anders gestured forward, trying to prompt her to move.

She sighed but started moving again. They didn’t find much trouble, a few traps, spiders but that was it. As they were approaching a corner she heard voice from up ahead. She had hoped to get Ketojan out of the city without much fuss, maybe she’d get lucky and the folks ahead would just disperse when they saw the huge mage.

She didn’t have much hope of it though based on the vitriol one of them was spewing. She held out hope that he was just a big mouth without the courage to back himself. She slowed her steps as they rounded the corner. At least there weren’t many of them. 

The man Sekhmet assumed was their leader was very average. He looked to be middle aged, his physique was average, his height was average and the gear he wore was pretty average. When he spoke though, she thought perhaps thinking him average was giving the man too much credit.

He sneered at them. “Eh, look at this. Undercity is feared by all but there’s no shortage of fools with coin who want to test it.” 

Sekhmet had a mad urge to look around to figure out who he was talking about. None of hers had much coin, so either the man was blind, or stupid. She let him keep running his mouth though as she sized up his group.

His gaze fixed on the Qunari mage, almost as if he had missed him at first glance. “What is this thing, collared like a dog lord’s bitch?” He turned his sneer back to her, “You some sort of Qunari lover? Maybe I should get rid of you and see who will pay the most for your pet.”

She was more than a little shocked when the Qunari mage growled at the man. Several of his followers stepped backwards. The man held his ground, whether from genuine courage or stupidity she wasn’t sure.

The ginger haired man next to the leader eyed them all warily, “Uh, I don’t think it likes you threatening its master, maybe we let this one pass.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “Isn’t that always the way in the Undercity? You never see these ragtag gangs led by the voice of reason. It’s always the stupid and mean ones running things. Probably why so many of your little gangs end up dead at my feet.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed, she’d made him mad. And the nice thing about stupid people when they were angry? They made even more mistakes. “You lot think you’re so damn right. Buying everything, running Free Marchers like me into our own sewers.” He slipped a knife from its sheath on his hip. “You want us bound like this thing. I’ll see you dead first.”

She’d been about to slit the mouthy cuss’ throat just to shut him up when she felt a gut clenching yank of magic next to her. At the same time a huge hand landed on her shoulder and pushed her to her knees. She didn’t see what happened to the man other than a bright glittering silvery blue flash of light and then the man was down, unmoving.

She climbed back to her feet as the Qunari mage lowered his arms. He’d cast something, she had no idea what. She shook herself a little, the mage’s magic was raw and jagged, not like any magic she had felt before. It left an unpleasant feeling on her skin. 

The ginger haired man was pushing himself to his feet beside his now dead leader. “By the Void,” he shouted, “Kill it, kill them all.”

The Qunari mage surrounded itself with a column of fire, not overly strong but enough to keep the thugs away from him, which was fine. Sekhmet and the others took out the rest of the little band of thugs in a few minutes. Not even the new arrivals from behind them were much challenge.

When the fight was over though, Sekhmet was left with an agitated Qunari mage surrounded by flames and unable to communicate. She walked to him slowly and made a big show of sheathing her weapons so he would know she meant him no harm. It was hard to tell how intelligent the mage was, the only communication they’d heard from him thus far was a few grunts and growls. 

She held her hands up palms out as she moved towards him. “Their all gone now, Qunari…Ketojan…whatever. Drop the fire and calm yourself.”

The mage growled again in response, but did douse the flames surrounding him. It was a step in the right direction at least. Perhaps he could understand her, at least a little.

She lowered her hands and assumed a more conversational tone. “Did you attack that man because your lead was threatened? And why did you move me, were you worried your magic would hurt me?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected from him, but all she got was his stock response, a throaty growl. 

She sighed; this really was a bad idea. “Tell me we’re doing this for a good reason.”

Varric spoke up, “With the pay from this job we’re all set for the expedition.”

Anders snorted, “Not sure that was the kind of reassurance she was looking for.” He moved closer to her and waited for her to look at him. When she finally did he spoke to her, voice soft and soothing. Probably a lot like the voice he used on upset children in his clinic. “This man is a mage. He has obviously faced horrific oppression and we don’t have all the tools to completely free him but we’re doing the best we can. We’re trying to give him a better life.”

She nodded to Anders. “Thank you.” 

Isabela stepped closer to the mage; head tilted curiously and smile on her lips. “I bet all he wants is to go running after thrown sticks and someone to rub his belly.” She chuckled at her own joke but the laughter died when Sekhmet glared at her.

“Alright, Ketojan, let’s get you out of here before we attract more unwanted attention.” She headed off and almost smiled when Ketojan let out another soft growl behind her followed by his heavy footsteps.

It was only a few minutes before they were climbing out of the Undercity and into the sunlight outside the city. As they crested the little rise they were on Sekhmet could see more Qunari below them. She looked around but there was no way to get past them unseen. 

She really hated fighting the Qunari, but she wasn’t about to let them take Ketojan and force him back into a life of servitude. At least Anders was with them, she would be really loathe to fight them without a healer. And Justice was probably pretty riled about the mage’s condition. Wouldn’t he be thrilled to unleash a little vengeance on those who had abused him?

As they strolled down the incline the Qunari pushed to their feet and started amassing behind one man. He was obviously their leader and called out to her group as they approached. “You will hold basra vashedan. I am Arvaarad and I claim possession of Saarebas at your heel. The members of his karataam were killed by Tal-Vashoth. But their disposal leads only here to Saarebas and you.”

Anger uncurled in Sekhmet’s gut. That bitch of a sister had set them up. “I should have known this job would end in more Qunari.”

Arvaarad spoke, condescension in every syllable. “You speak as if ignorance is your natural condition. The bodies of his slain karataam could lead only here. I do not know how you come to hold his leash but you have no claim in the Qun. He will be returned and this crime cleansed.”

She shook her head; she was hired to bring the Qunari mage to freedom outside of the city, not to deliver him into the hands of his oppressors. And even though the whole thing was a set up and she wasn’t likely to get any coin from it she wouldn’t just blithely hand her charge over. “And if he doesn’t want to go back?”

Arvaarad stepped forward and bellowed out to the mage. “Saarebas show that your will remains bound to the Qun.”

Ketojan gave a soft growl and immediately knelt. Sekhmet seethed again at the ingrained obedience. After years of subjugation and abuse the mage was probably more obedient than Tyr.

Arvaarad continued to speak, but to her now. “He has only followed you because he wants to be led. He is allowed no other purpose.”

She could feel Anders behind her, his magic swimming close to the surface, the strength of it both reassuring and worrisome. Could the Qunari feel it? Did they know how close Anders was to attacking them all?

She wondered if there was anyway to get out of this without turning the mage over to them and not end up with a fight. Might as well try to stall while she tried to think of something, and honestly, her natural curiosity had a grip on her. “The sister calls him Ketojan.” She turned and looked at Ketojan who did not look to her, even when she spoke. “You are Saarebas?”

Arvaarad gave a tired sounding huff, “Sarebaas is his role and his name as you understand it. It is the accusation and acknowledgement of being a mage.”

Wow, that was a bit harsh. But what did that make this Arvaarad then? “And you are Arvaarad?”

A slight nod, “My role is to hold the leash and hunt the grey ones who leave the Qun.” His brief spat of patience obviously dried up he hissed at her, “Or Bas who have not yet been enlightened.”

Alright, maybe try to shift their attention a bit then. “You don’t care that someone abused your dead to get you here?”

The distraction was a failure, Arvaarad’s answer was terse. “No doubt they were cast from your shoulders as you,” he glanced over her tiny frame and obviously decided that Sekhmet couldn’t have carried a dead Qunari and turned his attention to her companions, “or your partner thieves grew weak. It is a crime whose victims are beyond caring. It will be dealt with, but the greater threat is clear. It is my role to secure Saarebas, it is the role of another to purge the perversions of your kind.”

She was running out of hope that she would find a way out of this. Just the idea of turning the poor mage over made her sick to her stomach. “He is bound and abused and you want him caged, why?”

“The power that he has, that all Saarebas have draws from chaos and demons, they can never be in control.” Ah, and his words held such surety.

Same story as everyone else in Thedas, the big bad Qunari were pants-wetting scared of mages. “So you fear them.” And she knew it sounded condescending, it was meant to. 

Anders voice drifted from behind her, soft and so impossibly sad. “Like so many others.”

Arvaarad snapped at her, “We leash Saarebas because they are dangerous and contagious. Not even your Templars fully grasp that threat.”

That was enough, no more games. There clearly was no way out of this except to fight them. She wouldn’t hand the mage over. “I’m not giving him to you. He’ll choose his own path.”

“He wants what the Qun demands. He is nothing else.” Arvaarad’s anger radiated from him, his voice got louder and sharper as he spoke. “You basra, your kind has no sense, the opportunity for reason will be forced upon you.” He raised his arm and a golden rod glinted in the sun. A pale blue light coalesced at the top between two points amidst a humming sound before a loud zap sounded, echoing off the rock faces around them. 

The Saarebas was encased in pale blue light and seemed unable to move. Apparently, satisfied that the Saarebas was properly secured, Arvaarad turned his attention back to Hawke. “You will all be brought to the Qun.”

He pulled his weapon free but before he could attack he was being crushed in a magical prison, courtesy of Anders. Lightning struck another Qunari and jumped to several others. She could feel Anders moving forward, spell after spell flying. 

“You punish mages who have done nothing wrong because you fear what they are.” As he spoke his skin cracked and split and then just a quickly closed in several places. Sekhmet moved swiftly out of his way. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure you have good reason to fear me.” On the last word cracks opened up all over Anders’ body, pale blue spirit fire engulfed him for a moment, his eyes shone with pale blue light and Justice’s voice came out.

Varric and Isabela looked to Sekhmet who merely canted her head towards more Qunari who were coming at them from the rear. She wasn’t about to interrupt Justice while he dealt with the other Qunari making them scream. As a matter of fact if she didn’t have others to deal with she might have just stood back and watched Justice work.

Once the Qunari lay around them all dead Justice’s eyes closed briefly and then he was gone. Anders’ eyes opened wide, he looked horrified. He turned to Sekhmet, “Hawke, Maker, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I shouldn’t have…”

She cut him off, “Don’t fret handsome. He steered clear of me. We’re all good.”

Anders looked like he wanted to argue but just pressed his lips together instead. Good, Sekhmet had no interest in another one of Anders’ ‘sorry for existing’ speeches. She moved back to where Ketojan or rather Saarebas was still on his hands and knees in the sand.

“Can you stand?” She didn’t dare touch him; she had no idea what kind of energy was holding him in place. It felt a little bit like magic, but mostly it just felt wrong.

He made a series of growling noises before slowly gesturing to the golden rod which was now lying in the sand where it had fallen from Avaarad’s grasp when he was caught in Anders’ crushing prison spell.

Sekhmet walked over and picked it up; wiping the blood on her already blood streaked leathers. She looked it over, trying to figure out how to work it. Finally, she saw a little knob on the side of it. She flicked it with her thumb and nearly dropped the thing when it recoiled in her hand. She nearly hit herself with it. Seeing that Saarebas was slowly standing up she dropped the awful thing onto the ground.

Anders picked it up and slipped it into his pack without a word. Sekhmet figured he was curious about it and wanted to study it and more power to him, it just creeped her out. How many mages had been bound immobile like Saarebas by that thing?

Her attention turned back to Saarebas, who had started to speak to her. “I am unbound…odd…wrong. But you deserve honor…you are now…basvaarad…worthy of following…I thank your intent…even if it was wrong… I know the will of…Arvaarad…I must return…as demanded…It is the wisdom…of the Qun.” His voice was raspy, and his words came out slowly, haltingly. Speaking was not something he did much. 

Sekhmet tried not to stare at the thread in his lips that stretched and slid as he spoke. Scar tissue must have formed inside the holes years ago, letting the thread slide back and forth easily in his flesh. It was ghastly to look at.

“Why would you kill yourself now? We just fought for your freedom.” It made absolutely no sense after everything for him to just die.

He walked slowly towards the water, “I commit to…the most difficult choice…the truth of the…Qun.”

She followed behind him, trying to hold reign in her agitation. “What truth? What if it’s wrong?”

His steps slowed even further, “Many say that…before they know certainty.”

Was this her fault? If she had spoken to them further, if she had remained calm could she have saved Saarebas? “Could you have returned if I let these others live?”

“No.” A simple statement.

This was exasperating, “You were doomed from the start?”

His speech was still slow, but it was rhythmic now, like breathing. “I was outside my karataam…I may be corrupted…I cannot know…How I return is my choice.”

Anders’ voice, frustrated and angry came from somewhere behind her. “Of all the ridiculous, spineless, mind controlled, senseless, piece of shit arguments I’ve ever heard.”

Saarebas turned to look at Anders and for the first time emotion seemed to touch him, anger. “What comfort has freedom brought you mage? You would have more if you submitted to the Qun.”

Anders returned fire, “Ah yes, the comfort of a mouth sewn shut, too small shackles permanently bonded to me, a collar almost as heavy as I am, a steel corset, a permanent metal face mask in the glaring sun and most likely heavy chastity. Sounds like a damn vacation. Sign me up for freedom, baby.”

“Anders!” Sekhmet snapped, she was trying to talk Saarebas out of killing himself and Anders was just winding him up.

He sighed, “Sorry.” He moved closer to Saarebas. “You want to know what kind of comfort my freedom has brought me? Turn around. She’s standing right there. She and her sister are the best kind of comfort anyone could find.” Anders turned on his heel and walked away.

Sekhmet watched him, stunned and unsure what exactly Anders had meant. Saarebas did indeed turn around to look at her. Watching her closely for several minutes. Finally, unable to take the unusual scrutiny she spoke again, “Arvaarad couldn’t kill me; perhaps he was wrong about your death too.”

Saarebas’ speech was smoother now. “Losing to you doesn’t make him wrong. He spoke the Qun. I have chosen, it is bred in the bone.”

What was she supposed to say to that? “Existing is not a choice.”

He turned back to the water, “It is the only choice. Asit tal-eb. It is to be.”

She had lost the argument, his mind was made up, there was nothing else she could do. “My job ended when we exited the city. The rest is up to you.”

He angled his head, perhaps in surprise? “You know of certainty and borders. You are closer to the Qunari than you admit. Your role would change little if you accepted the Qun.”

“Everything about me would change if I accepted the Qun. I would not be me anymore if I accepted some role that was dictated to me. And I most certainly would not be me anymore if I accepted how people like you were treated.” For her, what she did defined who she was.

He made a small tutting noise before speaking again. “Take this secret thing Basvaarad. Remember this day.” He handed her a small amulet, an inky dark center that seemed to swirl as if alive. With that he turned back towards the water and pulled on his magic, a rough grating across her skin. He cast the fire around him, completely encasing himself as he self immolated. He fell to his knees as he burned, not a single sound escaping his lips, even as he burned to death.

Isabela had suddenly darted forward just as he was lighting himself on fire. She turned and looked at Hawke with horrified eyes. “The creature was free; there was no need for that. Why would he do that, Hawke?”

Sekhmet shook her head, she had no answers.

Anders let out a disgusted huff, “What’s done is done. But, the Qunari finding us, that was obviously Petrice’s doing. Perhaps we should see if we can catch her before she flees.” This time he led and the rest of them followed. Hawke was thankful not to be leading for once, she was feeling a little shocked. Burning to death was an awful way to die, there were many easier ways Saarebas could have chosen to end his life. Why fire? Was he hoping it would purify him somehow, like some twisted version of Andraste?

********

By the time they reached the little hovel in Lowtown Sekhmet’s shock had worn off and was replaced by anger. An anger that became barely restrained rage when she opened the door and saw Petrice and her Templar guard hurriedly cleaning the place up. 

Petrice’s voice was quick almost frantic, “Leave nothing, it must be clean, with no ties. It…” Suddenly, the sister looked up and saw Sekhmet and her friends. The sound of Isabela slamming the door shut had obviously caught her attention. She slathered on a smile, “Hawke! It was Hawke right? From the streets. You took the Qunari from the city…without incident?”

Izzy snarled at the sister, “Without bloody incident? You know better.”

The Templar finally opened his mouth, “Mind your tongue woman.”

Sekhmet had been about to warn him to mind his head, lest she remove it from his shoulders when Petrice spoke again.

She was trying to placate Sekhmet, “Please, do speak your mind.”

She flashed the sister a smile, “What’s the matter Petrice? You don’t look happy to see me. Did something not go according to plan?” 

Sister Petrice gentled her tone even further, “Whether you believe it or not I wished you no harm. That might have been useful for…someone, but still regrettable.” Sekhmet rolled her eyes and Petrice continued. “A massacre of citizens protecting a slave might have forced the Chantry to doubt appeasement. To see the Qunari for the monsters they are.” 

She seemed to be pleading with Sekhmet to understand. Right, like she would find the sister’s reasoning for trying to get her killed perfectly rational and acceptable. The woman was crazy. 

She continued on nonetheless, “Perhaps finding the mage was a rushed opportunity. If such a plot existed I see how it could be….disagreeable to you.”

“Disagreeable? You’ve got to be joking.” She stepped closer to the sister, ignoring the Templar who took a step closer as well. “Your Ketojan killed himself rather than be free, what do you think of that?”

Petrice didn’t bat an eye, didn’t show any emotional response at all. “I assume he wanted to escape, just as I would. My pity is genuine, but they are not like us.”

“You sent us out there to die, hoping we would die, for your cause. Now maybe you should die for mine?” For once the Templar in the room wasn’t the person Sekhmet wanted to kill most. Not that she wouldn’t enjoy killing him, but Sister Petrice had orchestrated the affair with Ketojan. Her actions led directly to him killing himself.

Petrice wrinkled her nose in distaste, “No doubt you would prove a challenge for my guard, but I will not offer the chance today. Violence here serves no purpose. I accept the grim necessities of standing in the Maker’s name, but I will not waste his gifts. You did better than you were asked, I will honor that arrangement. We will have nothing more to do with each other.”

“I have no idea whose name you stand in, but it’s certainly not the Maker, at least not one I’ve ever heard of. Besides, after taking out all those Qunari, what makes you think I need you to ‘offer me a chance’ in order for me to kill you. I’m pretty sure I could have you gutted before your Templar moved an inch.” 

A flicker of fear showed in Petrice’s eyes, “Take your pay and be gone. I am new to this, I admit, but someone has to think of eternity. The peace will not last.”

“No it won’t.” She was about to end the sister when Varric grabbed her elbow.

He shook his head, “She paid, let’s just call it a night.”

Petrice filed past them and out of the hovel and into the night, swiftly.  
Isabela sighed heavily, “I think we can count on seeing her again, in the future.”

Sekhmet scowled, “She better hope not.”

********

Sekhmet hurried up the steps in Hightown that led to Fenris’ mansion. The day had been pretty shitty and she was looking forward to seeing him and spending a quiet evening sipping some fantastic wine from the mansion’s cellar and having a nice relaxing evening talking with Fenris. It had been nearly a week since she had seen him and she was interested in getting to know him now, to see if there really was anything between them.

She knocked, as she always did, and he declined to answer as he always did. She opened the door and slipped inside, all but running up the steps to the room where she always found him. He was there, sitting in a chair, sharpening his sword.

When he caught sight of her he smiled. “Hawke, how’s Bethany?”

That halted her steps, no ‘Hi, I missed you’ or ‘good to see you’ just how’s Bethany? “She’s doing well, her magic started coming back yesterday.” She pulled a chair closer to him and sat down, “So what have you been doing to distract yourself while I was tied up with Bethany?”

He gave a half hearted shrug, “The same as always, a little of this and a little of that.”

Was she paranoid or did he not seem to care whether she was there or not? “I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

He smiled and even colored a little. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Well that was more like it. She was going to tell him about her day, but then realized he wouldn’t be interested in hearing about her helping a mage. And was in all likelihood even less inclined to listen when it regarded a Qunari mage, he seemed to respect the Qunari a great deal. She couldn’t really talk about her week, she’d been in Anders’ clinic all week and he’d likely just be irritated to hear about it. And she definitely wasn’t going to tell him that Anders was traveling with her again, at least not yet.

So what did that leave to talk about? He hadn’t really given her much to work with about his week either. She sat in silence and watched as he sharpened his blade, his hand steady, working in a familiar rhythm. He glanced up from his work periodically only to quickly look back down again when he saw her watching him.

“Does it bother you, that I’m watching you?” 

He shook his head, “No, but why are you watching me?”

She shrugged a little, “I don’t know. The rhythm of your work, the smoothness of your motions, it’s almost like dancing.”

He grinned at her, “Even though I’m sitting?”

“So, not a perfect analogy. How about hypnotic? The way you move is hypnotic, that’s why I’m watching you.” She smiled to herself when he looked away from her again, focusing back on his task.

They lapsed back into silence for a while; he finished sharpening his blade, then took a cloth and some oil and polished it to a high sheen before re-sheathing it and leaning it up against the wall. He turned back to her, “You can stop staring now.”

She stood to kiss him. His hand settled on her waist, but instead of pulling her close he held her still. He looked into her eyes, and traced a finger over her lips before letting her go and stepping away from her. 

Fenris took her hand, tracing his fingers softly over the back of it. “This isn’t going to work, Hawke. I’m trying too hard to fill another man’s shoes and you’re trying too hard not to want him.”

“Fenris…”

He gave her one of those beautiful smiles of his. “I’m not angry, not even upset. I don’t think I’m interested in you like that. A person being nice to me is new, the flattery is new, the flirting is new.” The smile widened, “I’m not sure either of us knew what we were doing.”

“You…you don’t want me around either?” She was going to fall apart. It was too much rejection, perhaps she should have just slept with him that first night. Maybe then she would have been able to hold his interest. 

Wasn’t life funny? The man she loved didn’t want her and now neither did Fenris. Oh great, ‘sad and pathetic Sekhmet’, her favorite. She needed to pull her shit together. She’d never needed a man to feel whole before, meeting Anders hadn’t changed that. She still didn’t need a man, didn’t need a lover at all. 

Fenris was shaking his head, “No, I just don’t think we’d be very good as a…couple. I’d like to remain…to go back to where we were before. It was good, wasn’t it?” He looked unsure now. And how would he know, he hadn’t ever had friends before by his own admission. 

“Alright, back to how it was before.” She turned around and left, walking out of the room and leaving the mansion completely. Sekhmet felt cast off, tossed aside, like refuse. But she wasn’t really broken up about Fenris ending things between them, he was probably right. Neither of them really knew what they were trying to accomplish, other than to not be alone. 

Perhaps a few drinks with Varric would cheer her up. 

Of course as soon as she walked in she realized that was a mistake. Anders was sitting in a darkened corner, slowly twirling a half empty mug while Isabela chatted with him, no doubt plying her charms and trying to talk the mage into her own bed. At least Izzy didn’t have any better luck with the men they traveled with than Sekhmet did. She did always manage to coax Anders into the tavern though.

Anders’ eyes landed on her and she felt herself flush under his gaze. Did he really want to be with her but was honestly afraid? Or did he just say things like that to make her feel better? She’d temporarily pulled him back into the fold, but their trip to the Deep Roads was looming close. Would he truly part company with them when it was over?

And if he did, then what? Could she just forget about him? Could she continue on with her life as if she hadn’t fallen in love with him? 

“Hawke, long time no see.” Varric chuckled as he waived her over. He was sitting at a table near the fire absently shuffling a deck of cards with one hand looking comfortable, happy and completely at home.

She smiled at the dwarf; a friendly face was exactly what she needed. She crossed the tavern quickly settling down across from him. “How’s the crowd tonight?”

He shrugged, “Thin yet, give it an hour or so.”

********

“You never use her name.”

“Hmm?” Anders turned to look at Izzy.

“Her name, you don’t use it.”

“I call her what everyone else calls her.”

Isabela grinned, “But you’re not everyone else.”

Anders took a deep breath but didn’t respond, prodding him had become Isabela’s new favorite hobby. Apparently, she had tired of hassling Hawke.

“The name suits her don’t you think?”

Anders raised a brow and looked at Isabela cautiously. He had learned to be careful with her, a few years ago and he would have enjoyed all the time they spent together and her incessant flirting. Undoubtedly, he would have done more than just share drinks with her. Now it was just a reminder of what he had lost. “Her name?”

“Sekhmet, it’s the name of an ancient Navarran goddess.”

“Really?”

Isabela smirked. “Yes, she was a goddess of many things, power, strength, vengeance, passionate love, female sexuality. They say she held sway over life and death; she could bring pestilence or cure plagues. It was said she could even destroy a soul, that it would never see the afterlife.”

“She was a busy goddess, apparently.” He said wryly.

Isabela shrugged, “Women have to be able to juggle a lot of things at once. How many women do you know who are only good at one thing? Besides those working at the Blooming Rose, of course.”

Anders snorted.

Smiling, she continued. “Her priests were great healers but she herself was mostly known for her darker aspects. Her breath was supposed to have created the deserts. In one of the stories I heard, the gods had decided that men had evil in their hearts and needed to be punished. It was Sekhmet the gods sent to purge the land of evil.

She slaughtered men by the thousands and drank their blood, becoming intoxicated with bloodlust. Seeing the havoc and destruction she caused, Ra- her father, finally took pity on man. He took seventy huge jugs of beer and mixed it with ocher and opium.” 

Anders was listening intently, Isabela certainly was not as good as Varric at storytelling, but the story was interesting nonetheless.

“Ra spilt the jugs of blood red beer upon the ground where Sekhmet would find them. In her crazed state of bloodlust, she lapped up the beer eagerly, mistaking it for blood and soon passed out. She slept for three days and when she woke her bloodlust had finally passed.”

Anders couldn’t help himself, he chuckled. “So you think of our friend as a blood thirsty maniac?”

Isabela pursed her lips. “I always go just a step too far, don’t I? My original point was that she embodies many of the same things as her name sake. You know all the fun stuff, power, strength, vengeance…” 

Anders arched a brow at her, not quite sharing her opinion.

Isabela shook her head with a smirk, “Think I haven’t noticed how she decapitates Templars with that wicked gleam in her eye? Decapitation isn’t easy, it takes strength and precision. The way she kills them, it’s not like she kills anyone else. She wants more than just their death. She is punishing them.”

“If you say so.” He tried to sound non committal but he had noticed it as well. He turned back to watch Hawke as she flashed smiles and wove between the tables talking with several patrons.

Isabela paused and watched Anders for a moment; he felt the weight of her gaze on him as his eyes followed Hawke as she moved around the room. “Female sexuality, yeah, she definitely has that one.” He could almost hear the smile in Isabela’s voice.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Anders said politely as he turned back to Isabela. “I get what you’re saying though.”

“Sweetness, if I showed anymore cleavage I would be topless and you’ve barely noticed. She’s completely covered and you can’t help but stare.”

Anders scowled, “She’s too trusting, I’m just watching her back.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never imagined what she looked like naked with the swell of her hips and those perky little breasts she keeps so hidden? That you never imagined her lying under you, all that alabaster skin yours to kiss, caress and tease, to… mark? Or, that you’ve never imagined the way she would taste if you kissed her, if you licked her skin, if you were to taste her between her snow white thighs?” She was rubbing her fingers lightly over the wood of the table as she spoke, as if she were caressing a lover.

Anders was getting aroused just hearing her say it, was in fact painfully hard by the time she finished. Not to mention he had thought about it, more than once, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Izzy. “No, I haven’t.”

Isabela chuckled and stood up, “Right.” She headed for the bar leaving Anders at the table alone. Eventually, Hawke settled down at a table with Varric. When she glanced up she saw him and flashed him a smile. Anders felt torn between joining them and avoiding her. There was really no excuse he could use to stay anymore; she would be safe with Varric. Reluctantly, he stood and left.

********

Varric glanced behind him and saw Anders stand and head to the door. He shook his head as he turned back to Sekhmet. “I was wondering which one it would be, Broody or Tortured. I see Tortured won.” Varric grinned.

“Broody, Tortured…are we playing some game I missed the rules to?”

“You know, the elf or the mage. I was wondering which one you would end up drooling over. Women love that stuff. ‘Oh, I will save you. My love can cure anything.’” He spoke in a high pitched voice then laughed.

Sekhmet smirked, “What makes you think it wouldn’t be Busty or Mousey.”

Varric almost spit out his ale laughing. “Oh, that’s good.” He calmed after a moment. “Well Busty is too easy, if you wanted her you would have already and Mousey….well what is it you call her…a tad creepy?”

Sekhmet giggled. “And how about the virile dwarf, no chance at love with him?”

Varric smiled, “You know my heart belongs to another. But if manly is your thing maybe you should spend more time with the soon to be Captain of the Guard.”

“Varric! That’s horrible.”

Varric shrugged, “So tell me about you and Tortured.”

“Sadly, there’s nothing to tell. He’s so skittish. I flirt and he tells me it’s a bad idea, and then avoids me for days. I thought about kidnapping him and tying him up, but I’m not fond of being zapped with lightning. I suppose I should just leave the poor man alone. 

I just…feel like I’ve known him forever, you know? I feel more comfortable with him than I do with anyone else.” She couldn’t help but pout a little. She shifted in her seat, shook her head and smiled. “Sometimes it’s like he forgets he’s not supposed to be interested. He flirts back, then seems to feel guilty about it. Hurts a girl’s pride it does.”

“Wow, you do have it bad, never figured you for the type, Hawke.”

“Don’t rub it in. What else do you know about him?”

“About Blondie? You probably know more than I do, you talk to him more.”

Sekhmet rolled her eyes, “And you keep tabs on all of us. You probably know more about me than I do.”

Varric sobered for a moment. “I know he pours everything he has into that clinic. Every cent he makes with us goes right into the clinic; he relies on the generosity of his patients for everything else, including food.”

Sekhmet scowled, “I don’t like the idea of him not eating. We need him in top form.”

Varric gave her another smile, “Not to mention you’re hoping to see him out of those clothes.”

Sekhmet smiled, “I am.” She paused for a second trying to decide how to fix this new Anders problem. “I want you to start giving Anders two shares from now on, one for him and one for the clinic. He’ll try to argue with you, just tell him that if he has a problem with it he can explain it to Bethany.”

“Oh, that’s low.”

“I know, she’ll freak out on him if she finds out he hasn’t been eating.” She giggled. “Well that’s one problem solved. Now I just need to figure out how to get him to stop acting like I have the plague.” She gave an overdramatic sigh.

“How about I buy you another pint?” Varric offered helpfully.

“How about at least a dozen, I could stand to get a bit pissed tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan.”


	22. Going Down

Hawke stumbled into the clinic clutching her left arm and with a bloody lip. Anders cast a quick glance at the pregnant woman he had been speaking with and she gave him a small smile and nodded. Thankfully, most of his patients were understanding about the need for priorities.

“Are you alright?” He led Hawke to a cot and had her sit down as he looked over her arm.

She gave a small nod then clutched her head and groaned.

Anders tsk’d and laid her down on the cot, careful of her arm. His healing energy flared bright over her for a moment before he focused on her head. Apparently, she’d taken a pretty bad blow to the head, she was lucky she was still conscious. “You have a head injury, lay still.” He concentrated, reducing the swelling and repairing the small tears in the capillaries. He cleared away the blood that had seeped out and caused pressure.

As he worked her eyes started to clear a little then they drifted shut. He had thought she had fallen asleep until she smiled and spoke.

“You know, I think I love you, Anders.”

Anders froze, his heart racing at the confession, before forcing himself to relax and pull himself together. He closed his eyes and responded to her gentle teasing. “I get that a lot. It’s the hands.”

When he opened his eyes she was staring up at him. He forced himself to smile a little for her.

“Not very convincing.”

“Hmm?” He finished healing her head, keeping his thoughts on fixing her injuries and not the mad confession he had foolishly thought she had so openly given him.

“The smile Anders, it wasn’t very convincing.”

He shrugged; dealing with her was so very exhausting. “It will have to do.”

She sat up abruptly and spun to face him grabbing one of his hands. Anders took an involuntary step backwards, away from her. Hawke tugged on his arm, pulling him back closer to her. She caressed his hand, “I wonder what else you can do with these hands.” 

He pulled his hand free, how on earth did that woman unravel him with such an innocuous touch? “How about I heal that wrist?” His voice was clipped and there was no smile this time as he struggled not to picture himself pushing her down on the cot and showing her exactly what he could do with his hands. He was a professional and as such he would not imagine coaxing his name from her lips in a cry of passion. 

She looked away from him and obediently held up her injured arm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just wanted you to smile.”

Smile? Sweet Maker, just the sight of her made him want to smile most days. Then again, the sight of her made him agitated and uptight too. And today, as per usual, he held onto the agitation. “Why did you go off fighting without me? Wasn’t Bethany with you?” His magic wrapped around her wounded arm, testing the extent of the injury. “She could have healed this. You shouldn’t be off getting into trouble without a healer.” Anders was scowling but he didn’t care, he didn’t want to see her get hurt, or worse.

“I was coming to get you. Bethany went to go get Varric.” She was practically pouting.

He wished she wouldn’t do that, it made him want to nibble on her purple painted lip. What he really needed was a good slap in the face to help him get his shit together. Problem was he’d heard rumors that Fenris and Hawke were done. And since he’d heard it, he’d been seriously contemplating trying to pin her down for himself. 

The idea of her with someone else made him sick, and Hawke was a young and vibrant. She wouldn’t stay single forever. Unfortunately, in his sane moments he realized what a terrible idea it was; Justice had already tried to kill her once. And the more he thought about not ever having her, the more miserable he became.

“You decided to just wander Darktown alone, dressed like that?” He gestured to her obviously expensive armor. “How long have you lived in Kirkwall?” He asked sarcastically, nothing like misplaced frustration and anger. 

Hawke didn’t respond but he saw hurt flash across her face for a moment, which made him feel like shit. He took a deep breath and did his best to reign in his temper. She’d come here for a reason, and it wasn’t so he could yell at her. 

Finished healing her arm, he dropped both of his hands. He lowered his voice, and made sure not to sound frustrated or irritated when he spoke. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

She watched him for a moment, before a smile curled her lips; she spoke in an excited rush. “We’re going to see Varric’s brother Bartrand. I have the money for the expedition.”

Anders felt a cold spike of fear down his back. “Oh.” He turned away from her and crossed quickly to the little table that held most of his potions. He picked up two flasks and carried them over to his previous patient. “Here, this should help with the nausea, you only need a spoonful.”

The woman clutched the bottles to her chest and stood up smiling. “Thank you healer, bless you.” With that she scurried from the clinic leaving Hawke and Anders alone.

He looked to Hawke; she hadn’t moved but looked confused. He gestured for her to follow him as he headed to his desk. He perched on the edge of it and tried not to look as anxious as he felt, she settled down beside him. “Look, I know we haven’t really spoken about it, but I would prefer not to go back to the Deep Roads if I can avoid it.”

Hawke looked suspicious. “Why?”

“Because I have responsibilities here. I have patients to take care of and,” his voice trailed off.

She nodded, understanding, like she always did, dammit. “The mages, I know but Anders I really need you there. You’re the only one who has been to the Deep Roads before and you’re the only real healer I have.”

“Bethany can heal.” He responded without hesitation.

Hawke sighed, “I’m not going to force you, Anders. And if it helps I promise to keep my hands to myself.”

Is that what she thought? That he didn’t want to be trapped in the Deep Roads with her because she might…what? Come on to him? Attack him? Force herself on him? The woman was half his damn size and he was a mage. Did she really think he was afraid of a little unsolicited attention from her?

She looked so damn serious. He thought it over for another minute, weeks in the Deep Roads, with no place to hide from her. Maybe she was right, maybe he was worried about what would happen between them. 

He was the only one of her companions who had any experience in the Deep Roads. And Bethany had told him right out she didn’t think they should go without him. Finally, Anders gave Hawke a small nod, conceding defeat. 

It really wasn’t fair not to go, especially after he had offered to help. “Alright, but I’m going to need some time. I have to let my patients know I’ll be gone for a while.” He looked around his clinic, “And I need to get some supplies together.”

“How much time do you need?”

“A few hours.”

“Do you mind if I wait here?”

Anders scowled, “Why don’t you head home. I can meet you there when I’m done.” 

Hawke nodded and started to stand up slowly. Anders looked her over and noticed how tired she looked. Her eyes had dark circles under them and her skin was more pale than usual. Frankly, she looked exhausted, like she was ready to keel over. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? 

He reached out and took her forearm. “Come with me.”

He led her to the back room of his clinic and led her to his small cot, it wasn’t much, but it was fairly comfortable and the blanket was warm, a gift from one of his patients. “Lie down,” He gently coaxed her, “you look exhausted.”

She sat, readily enough. “So all I had to do was get beaten up to get into your bed?” She gave him one of her little smirks but the effect was ruined when she yawned.

He chuckled quietly and knelt to take her boots off. When he had them off he swung her legs around and into the cot, she lay down with a quiet sigh. He pulled the blanket over her and she curled up on her side, watching him with amusement.

He stood up, and used his best healer voice to admonish her. “Now I expect you to be sleeping when I get back.” 

She yawned again, “I’ll be having pleasant dreams about the owner of this cot.”

She was incorrigible, and beautiful, and very, very tired from the looks of it. He couldn’t help a small smile. “Try to leave my virtue intact, will you?”

Hawke giggled and rolled over. Shaking his head, Anders left.

********

When he came back he found Hawke fast asleep, clutching his pillow tight. He took a moment to marvel at how small she was. Somehow, when she was up and about, her small size never really registered. Maybe it was her larger than life personality, or just her big mouth.

He chuckled to himself quietly for a moment before striding into the room. He set about finishing his packing, trying to get together anything he might need for a long trip into the Deep Roads. Everytime he made a bit of noise he froze waiting to see if Hawke would awaken. He knew from experience she was a light sleeper.

She didn’t stir though. And when at last he finished he sat and watched her sleep for another thirty minutes before he woke her up. They were supposed to be meeting Varric and Bethany before heading off to Hightown and he’d already kept them waiting hours. It was a shame, Hawke looked a little better, but more rest would have done her some good.

He moved to the doorway, experience reminding him not to touch her and stay out of range. And when he deemed he was far enough away he called her name softly, “Hawke?”

She sat straight up immediately, eyes scanning the room before landing on him in the doorway. The tense look on her face relaxed into a smile when she caught sight of him. She put his pillow down and wiped at her face. When she did she colored beautifully and her smile became one of embarrassment. “I think I drooled on your pillow.”

He chuckled, “That’s alright it’s been through worse.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, “I don’t think I want to know.”

She was so adorable sometimes. He shook his head, “No, you probably don’t.” He pulled his pack onto his shoulders, “I’m ready whenever you are.”

She stood and stretched and Anders found his eyes glued to her. The slow movement of her body as she stretched first one side, then the other. Her hair as it slid across her back when she rolled her neck. And finally, her lips as she smiled when she caught him watching her.

She hastily pulled her boots on and grabbed her daggers, strapping them on quickly. The two of them were off, first to her place so she could pick up her own gear and then to Varric’s suite at the Hanged man. Isabela smiled and wished them all a safe trip as they headed out the door.

********

Considering it was such a short rest Sekhmet was feeling a lot better. Maybe it was her pleasant dreams, which indeed had been about Anders. Without a doubt, Anders was her favorite thing to dream about. All the rest of her dreams were nightmares. Her dreams about Anders left her in one of two ways, ridiculously happy and grinning like a fool. Those were her mushy, feel good dreams. 

And her other dreams about Anders left her hot and bothered. Too many talks with Isabela had filled her head with all sorts of naughty ideas about Anders. Which was awful, because there was no way the reality, if she ever got to experience it, would ever live up to her vivid and frequent fantasies.

She wondered what her darling little mage would say if he knew how often she fantasized about him. Or that most of her fantasies were about a part of his body she saw all the time, those wickedly long and elegant looking fingers of his. Those hands that were as soft as a noble woman’s. 

Sometimes at night she worried about her own hands. Her hands, palms and fingers alike, were callused. She had a fighter’s hands. Anders had grown up in a Circle, with mages like himself. All of their hands would have been soft and smooth like his own, even the men’s hands. And she knew he had bedded a few prostitutes, or at least supposed he had. But even prostitutes would have hands soft like his.

It was likely he’d never been touched by calloused hands. And in her more insane moments, she wondered if it was why he found her own touch unpleasant. She’d resolved to stop touching him, and until today had managed to stick to it. But in his clinic she hadn’t been able to help herself, and he had reacted by snapping at her.

“Hawke?” Varric raised his voice at her.

She turned to look at him, surprised to have been caught with her mind wandering. “Yes?”

He laughed, “Where was your mind girl?”

She looked to Anders without meaning to and tore her gaze away as soon as she realized it but Varric had already seen it. 

He chuckled and leaned in close, “Don’t worry, I don’t think he saw. And I won’t tell if you won’t. Now, I have the merchants with the rest of the supplies we need waiting in the Merchant’s Guild. I also called together the rest of the guys my brother wanted to hire. They’ll all be there when we get there but won’t approach Bartrand. Hopefully, once we give Bartrand the money we’ll be able to leave in a couple of hours.”

“Good, Beth and I have everything we need for the trip already. The sooner we get started the sooner we can make our fortune and get home. I really hope this doesn’t end up being a long and dangerous trip for nothing.” She sighed; she had no idea what she and Bethany were going to do if this trip turned out to be a bust. Most likely the same thing they had been doing. They’d just be back to being flat broke again. 

“Bartrand may be a bastard, but he knows what he’s doing.” Varric tried to reassure her, again. Good Ole’ Varric.

Bartrand wasn’t pleased about having a partner and splitting the profit of the trip but his whole tune changed when Sekhmet gave him the maps of the Deep Roads she had gotten from Anders. Bartrand was almost giddy with excitement and when she nodded to Anders in thanks he even managed to smile for her.

Bartrand had her and Varric get together the rest of the supplies while he and a couple of his scouts went over the maps to find the best entrance to use. With that done Bartand gathered them all around and started to give an oddly sexual speech about the expedition, talking about deflowering entrances and other odd things.

Right before they were ready to move out Sekhmet’s mother came running into the square. Bartrand gave Sekhmet a dirty look before snapping at her, “Take care of it. And figure out who you’re bringing.”

Sekhmet started towards her mother, stomach already clenched tight. She had no desire to argue with her mother. She had known that her mother had been much too quiet when they had left first thing this morning. And when Sekhmet had gone back to get her pack her mother had been staring into the fire and hadn’t acknowledged her at all.

Now she was standing in the middle of the square, tears shining in her eyes. 

Bethany came running over, standing between her and mother, hands on her hips. “Mother, I told you to stay out of this.”

“How can I? How can I let you both go? All those Darkspawn, it’s too dangerous. I understand your sister wanting to go, but you can’t go.” Her mother’s voice echoed off the walls around them.

“I’m a grown woman, Mother. I make my own decisions. I can stay here and likely end up at the Gallows, or I can go with Sekhmet. We’ll be safer together, watching each other’s backs.” She turned and looked at Sekhmet, “Tell her we’re better together.”

Her mother had a point, she knew, but so did Bethany. “Mother, it’s her choice. She earned the money too. And she is a woman now. We can’t lock her in the house and hope she never grows up.”

Her mother’s face soured, anger marred her features. “You already let the Darkspawn take your brother, wasn’t that enough?”

Sekhmet stepped back stunned when Bethany slapped their mother. 

“Don’t you say that, Carver dying had nothing to do with anyone but Carver and that Ogre. Stop being hurtful.” She snapped.

Their mother nodded, holding her cheek, “You’re right, I’m sorry.” She turned her attention to Sekhmet again, “Tell her she can’t go, please.”

Sekhmet shook her head, knowing it would hurt her relationship with her mother. But it wasn’t for her to forbid Bethany from going. “This is between the two of you. I can’t tell her that she fought all the same things I did, raised the same money I did but that suddenly she can’t come with me now. It’s up to her. If you don’t want her to go, you need to convince her to stay.” She walked over and gave her mother a hug, an awkward one since her mother didn’t hug her back and she wasn’t accustomed to hugging people, before walking over to wait with Varric and Anders.

About ten minutes later her mother walked slowly out of the square and Bethany walked back to rejoin them. Her eyes were red and a tear track ran down her face. She wiped at it as she stopped by Sekhmet’s side.

“So, you’ll be joining us then, Sunshine?” Varric asked softly.

She nodded, “Yes, someday she’ll understand I needed to do this.”

“You do know you don’t need to go for me, right?” Sekhmet worried Bethany had been afraid to leave her alone.

“I do know, I’m going for me. I want to do this, I can do this. But, come on sis, the Hawke sisters in the Deep Roads together, killing Darkspawn and making a fortune? It’ll be a fantastic story, won’t it Varric.” She smiled as she looked at the dwarf.

He smiled back, “One I’ll never tire of telling.”

And so they were ready to head into the Deep Roads. Sekhmet, her little sister, the possessed apostate she was in love with and Varric, the man who had given them a break when no one else would. They’d either find their fortunes, or their deaths.

********

As they headed deeper into the Deep Roads Anders decided to distract himself for a while. He fell back until he was walking beside the traveling merchant supplying many of the supplies for their little trek in the dark. “You’re Bodahn?”

The dwarf looked up with a smile, “Indeed I am messere. Is there something I can help you with?”

Anders nodded towards Bodahn’s son, “And that’s Sandal?”

Bodahn’s look became a slight bit guarded, but he was still smiling. “It is.”

Anders forced himself to smile, “Sareyna spoke highly of the two of you, especially Sandal. She used to complain that the enchanting done at the keep was absolute garbage next to what Sandal used to do for her and Alistair.”

Bodahn’s eyes went wide, “You’re the Warden everyone’s whispering about then.”

Anders tensed, he hadn’t realized anyone know who he was. “What do they say?”

Bodahn rubbed the back of his neck, “Mostly that you never leave Messere Hawke’s side. I suppose I should feel special you made an exception for me.” He flashed Anders a big smile, “Some of the men brought for labor think there must be a Warden with us, that Bartrand would be crazy to go into the Deep Roads without one, but no one knows who it is.”

“Could we possibly keep it that way?” Anders asked hopefully.

“Any friend of the Hero’s is a friend of mine. Is it true she left the Wardens?” Bodahn glanced to his son before looking back up at Anders.

“She and Alistair left together, how did you know about that?”

“Merchants trade gossip as much as they trade goods. I wish I had made a bigger effort to get to Vigil’s Keep to visit before they left. I bet their son was beautiful.” Bodahn looked wistful.

Anders smiled, “He looked a lot like his father, but had his mother’s eyes.”

Bodahn gestured ahead, “I think Messere Hawke is looking for you and I’ve taken up enough of your time. Perhaps we’ll talk more around the fire while we’re down here. Thanks for the memories, messere. The Hero and the prince are good people.”

Anders nodded, “They are, maybe we’ll all see them again someday.” With that he strode forward nodding to Hawke as he fell into step beside her.

“What was that about?” She asked mildly.

“We have mutual friends.” 

She furrowed her brow, “Since when do dwarven merchants and apostates run in the same social circles?”

He chuckled, “Since the apostate also happens to be a Warden and Bodahn travelled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight, you nosy girl.”

She looked at him incredulously, “He traveled with the Hero?”

“Yeah, he stayed with them while they traveled. He provided goods for them, bought things off them they no longer needed and Sandal enchanted things for them. And in turn they protected Bodahn and his son.” 

She nodded, “Well at least they’re not new to dangerous travel. I might need to check out his stock, and maybe see if I can get Sandal to do some enchanting for me.”

He thought that was probably a good idea, “Sareyna said Sandal did the best enchanting of anyone she ever met. And her family was quite fond of having items enchanted apparently, so she had quite a bit of experience with other people’s work.”

“Remind me at camp tonight then. I could always have my daggers enchanted.”

He glanced at her blades, “And what would you get them enchanted with?”

She shrugged, “Lightning to start with, not sure what else. Maybe ice.” 

His two favorite spells, interesting. He didn’t say anything, instead he wondered about getting his own staff enchanted, not now of course, but after he had made a new one. He would have to keep track of Bodahn and Sandal so he could ask Sandal to enchant it in the future. Hopefully, after this little trip he’d have some money to work with to replace his splintered staff.

He fell into silence, and Hawke followed suit. A comfortable silence fell over them as they walked. Anders could hear the soft murmur of Bethany and Varric behind them as well as Bartrand’s not so softly barked orders to the scouts that reported back to him periodically.

Anders was surprised by how far they got before he felt the familiar buzzing in the back of his skull. He craned his head trying to determine which direction it was coming from. Hawke caught his gaze and furrowed her brow in query. He shook his head. “Darkspawn, but I’m not sure where. They are still off a ways.”

She nodded and kept moving quietly. It was eerie watching her sometimes; he wondered if it was wishful thinking that made him catch glimpses of both Sareyna and Zevran in her. Oddly, she almost never used stealth and she was nowhere near as silent as Sareyna and Zevran, but what she lacked in stealth she made up for in sheer speed. He held a healthy respect for her and perhaps he was just a touch afraid of her if he was honest with himself. 

The group came to a stop as they were met by a scout. As the scout gave his report to Bartrand Anders felt his heart speed up. There had been a cave in and the way was blocked, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that they could just turn around and leave if necessary, nothing was forcing them to stay. 

As Varric, Bartand and Hawke were discussing the best way to handle the cave in Bodahn made his way over to them looking like he had aged ten years. Anders moved closer to find out what the trouble was. He’d heard Sareyna and Alistair talking about Bodahn and Sandal several times at the keep, always with fond smiles.

He thought it was odd they should show up in Kirkwall at the same time he did. And even more odd that they had managed to get signed onto the Deep Roads expedition. Or at least he had until he had gotten close to Bodahn’s boy, Sandal. There was something special about the boy, almost like magic, but not quite, which was odd considering his ability to enchant items.

So Anders was a little worried to find out that Bodahn’s boy, Sandal, had wandered off. Bodahn was beside himself and wanted Varric and Hawke to look for the boy, convinced he would still be alive. Anders had his doubts, but it wasn’t like any of them could refuse to help the man. And perhaps the peculiar boy was still alive; he had survived the Blight afterall.

He started to move away from the conversation after a moment, not too keen on watching Bodahn’s anxiety as he was grilled for more information by Hawke. He caught a glimpse of Bethany standing off to the side looking a bit lost. 

Anders strolled over to her, wondering how she was faring being stuck underground. Hopefully, she would handle it better than he normally did. She looked up and a flash of something crossed her face, Anders didn’t quite catch what it was before she was smiling.

“So, are you glad to be back?” Her voice was quiet, soft, nothing like her sister’s.

She was a good kid, and really didn’t belong in this dark place. Though technically, none of them did. Instead of dwelling on the fact that they were here, in the dark, under miles of stone he opted for humor. “I was thinking how much more fun this was than having a hot poker stuck in your eye. Truth is, not much.” 

Bethany giggled and Anders smiled, it was good to see her happy, to see her smiling. Anders understood quite well why Varric called her Sunshine. When she smiled, when she laughed, she lit up everyone around her, even her sister.

The problem was that Bethany was so serious and so worried all the time as of late. Not that he could blame her, he understood all too well her fear of the Templars. He glanced over to Hawke, who caught him and flashed him a quick smile. 

Bethany’s voice whispered from beside him. “Are you ever going to tell her?”

Anders canted his head in query, but kept his gaze on Hawke. “Tell her what?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

Anders was sure if he had been walking he would have fallen flat on his face. That was most decidedly not what he had been expecting. And was he really that transparent? This little slip of a girl had figured out when he was having trouble even admitting to himself. 

He took a deep breath and tried not to swallow nervously. “No, never.”

Bethany let out a small little sigh, carrying tons of disappointment on that soft little puff of breath. “What if I told you she loved you?”

Anders wished he had met her before Justice. If he had met her before, things could have been different. Though honestly, if he had met her before Justice he would have never taken the time to get to actually know her.

He closed his eyes. The best thing he could do for everyone at this junction was hope that Hawke didn’t love him and never would, that she would meet someone and fall in love and forget that Anders ever even existed. He had to hope that she would move on with her life, because if she didn’t he wasn’t sure he ever would. “For both our sakes I hope that’s not true.” When he opened his eyes Bethany was glaring at him. And only a few moments ago she had been smiling.

“The night we met Isabela, I saw you two. She leaned on you, looked to you for comfort.” Bethany stepped close to him and clasped his arm, her eyes beseeching him to understand. “She never lets anyone see her like that. Can you understand that? She let you see her vulnerable, that’s a big deal.” She took a small breath and the tiniest sliver of a smile peeked through. 

“And you were trying so hard not to hold her, so hard not to let her close. You wanted to comfort her. I know you did.” Her smile grew into a knowing little smirk, “I knew then that the two of you loved each other.”

But they had just met, there had been an obvious connection that night, but it was just two people realizing they had something in common. There was no way…“Bethany we barely knew each other.”

She shrugged, “Sometimes that doesn’t matter. Like my parents, they only knew each other a short time before he left the Circle to be with her and she left her noble family and her engagement when she ran off to Ferelden with him.” Her smile melted and scowled at him suddenly looking very angry. “And stop giving me that condescending smile. I’m not as naïve as you think I am, Anders. I have no idea how the two of you can be so blind. Are you both daft?” She flashed him a look of defiance then walked over to Sekhmet leaving him standing alone again.

Anders pushed a few stray strands of hair off his forehead and let out a long slow breath. Now he was fighting with Bethany as well as Sekhmet over his feelings. That just wasn’t fair. He was barely holding his own against Sekhmet. And it wasn’t as if he was keeping them apart for his own amusement.

He was trying to save Hawke’s life. He had thought Bethany agreed, or at least understood after what had happened between Justice and Hawke. Was this his fault for letting her stay in his clinic for so long? Should he have forced her to go home sooner? He had known she was trying to keep him and Hawke cooped up together, and he had let her. Maybe it had been foolish. 

He shook his head; dwelling on the past was pointless. And he needed to keep sharp, they were in the Deep Roads, always a dangerous place. And there were Darkspawn about, who were getting closer, though they weren’t in danger just yet. 

Hawke waived him over and he happily joined the others as they headed out to find Sandal and to see if they could find a way around the cave in.


	23. Justice In The Deep

He’d thought the day they had lost Sandal would be one of the worst they would have down there. It had turned out pretty well though, even though they did encountered Darkspawn. They had found a way around the cave in, but more importantly they had found Sandal. 

The boy had been casually standing around beside several charred Darkspawn corpses having, apparently, used an enchanted stone against them. And not too far from him was an ogre, frozen solid mid step. The boy hadn’t been able to convey how exactly it had happened; only saying that it wasn’t with one of his enchantments.

Did that strange boy have magic? If so Anders had more reason than ever to keep track of Bodahn and Sandal once they left the wretched Deep Roads. If Sandal could enchant items and had some kind of magic he might be the key to curing the Tranquil. Was there some way that was possible? His heart had raced with the prospect.

The route around the cave in had taken them directly into the path of a dragon and its brood. It had taken a bit of work but they were able to dispatch them all. Hawke’s tired smile had been triumphant and radiant. Not even the news that they had found the way around the collapse coaxed another smile like that one from her.

For five days they kept travelling down, deeper and deeper, the miles of rock over their heads ever increasing. When the thought of it got to be too much for him he’d talk with Hawke, about anything. Even her teasing was preferable. Smart girl that she was she figured out what was going on pretty quickly and made sure to keep herself available to him, and never mentioned it. Yes, Hawke could be sweet when she wanted, letting him keep a little dignity.

On the fifth day…night, whatever, they found the thaig they were looking for. It didn’t look like anything Anders had seen before, in the Deep Roads or in books. He couldn’t imagine what kind of dwarves might have lived there. The lyrium in the thaig glowed red instead of the blue lyrium closer to the surface. It made him feel woozy when he stepped too close to it, and he swore he could feel the magic throbbing through him. Justice was happily humming to it’s rhythmic pulse in his head like a lunatic.

He walked around a little on his own, not too far from the others, but he wanted to explore. Varric and Bethany were helping get things together for a meal and Hawke was talking with Bodahn, going through his supplies, yet again. Sandal had indeed enchanted her blades for her, days before hand. She still got a kick out of picking them up. Plain ordinary looking blades one moment, and then lightning dancing up and down them the next, a frosty fog rolling off them both.

She’d giggled with delight the first time calling them, “deadly sharp magic wands.”

He’d smiled at her enthusiasm and had tried not to feel old. He’d seen dozens of enchanted weapons both at the circle and at Vigil’s Keep. And everyone who used them acted as if they were old hat. It was almost refreshing seeing someone delight in the brilliance of weapons and magic being married together. And wasn’t Hawke just about the perfect person to appreciate it? 

He reined his attention back into the present and wandered over to the fire. He settled himself down, folding his long legs underneath him and watched the flames while he waited for the others to return and for their meal to be served. He didn’t have long to wait, Hawke sat down beside him a few minutes later.

“So, once we’ve rested a little and have eaten I want the four of us to look around the thaig. I think that would be safest. From the sounds of it no one’s been down here in hundreds of years. We have no idea how dangerous it might be.” She rubbed her forehead a bit.

“Probably the best bet. Besides, it’s kind of the reason they let us come on this little trip isn’t it?” He glanced at her, and immediately wished he hadn’t. 

She’d been getting paler by the day, and not in a fetching porcelain skinned way. Her dark circles were so bad she looked as if she sported two black eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well, her dreams kept waking her up. 

After the first night he always made sure that once she had managed to fall asleep that he cast a silence spell around both of their tents. He didn’t want her waking the others, or them asking her about her dreams. And with their two tents in the spell together, if something happened and she needed help he would still hear her call and could dismantle the spell.

He hadn’t been sleeping much either, but he never did. He always had trouble in the Deep Roads, being miles deeper than he had ever been before was only exacerbating the issue. He probably didn’t look much better than Hawke.

Hawke gave him a very tired smile, “That and we financed half this crazy trip. And I’d rather do it myself anyways. That way we have a good idea of what’s down here danger wise and loot wise. I don’t trust Bartrand to keep us in the loop.”

Anders nodded, Bartrand did have a bit of a sleazy bastard vibe to him, nothing like Varric at all. “Probably a wise choice.”

And so after everyone ate, the four of them set out to investigate the thaig. 

********

They found a lyrium idol in the old thaig. Varric handed it over to Bartrand to take back to the camp while he and the others continued exploring the thaig. Anders heard Hawke shout, “The door.” And he could already feel the panic gripping his heart like a vice.

He bolted down the steps from the dais they were standing on two at a time. Hawke slid down the railing, Bethany and Varric were both at an all out run, none of them made it to the door in time though. Anders broke out in a sweat almost immediately.

Varric pounded on the door and screamed for Bartrand. It didn’t take long to realize Bartrand had locked them in on purpose so he wouldn’t need to share the find with anyone. Varric stayed at the door screaming at Bartrand while Bethany wandered back up to the dais.

Anders paced and tried to take slow breaths. _“I’m alright, these are friends, they aren’t going to hurt me. We’ll find a way out. We will.”_ He ran a litany in his head trying to calm his racing heart. _“Wow, that trip to the Deep Roads fucked me up worse than I thought.”_ He almost let out a peal of hysterical laughter. 

Hawke was at his side in moments. “Anders?”

He shook his head, “I’m fine.” What was he supposed to do now, tell her he was afraid of the dark. 

“Bullshit, you’re ashen and sweating.” She touched his forehead and Anders jerked away from her.

“I’m fine.” He barked at her, his voice sounding harsh even to him. He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t her fault Bartrand had locked them in, but a small part of him did blame her for dragging him down here in the first place, or maybe that was Justice.

Hawke looked around to Varric and Bethany but neither of them seemed to be paying any attention. Anders was thankful neither of them saw him falling apart. Being a grown man who is quickly losing calm and becoming hysterical is bad enough without an audience. Hawke put her hand in the center of Anders’ chest and backed him up a few steps out of eye sight of the others. 

She pitched her voice low so only he could hear her, “Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid of the Deep Roads?”

Anders shook his head, “It’s not the Deep Roads, though I do loathe them, I…its feeling trapped.” He shook out his hands, his fingers were tingling, a sure sign he was breathing too quickly. He focused on slowing his breathing again, hyperventilating and passing out was not the best way to handle this situation. “It makes my skin crawl, makes it hard to breathe.”

“Why? Anything I can do?” She was watching him placidly, barely reacting to his obvious overreaction to the situation. She spoke calmly with a soothing tone, had she seen people panic like this before?

Anders was touched by the concern in her voice and in her eyes, it made him breathe a little easier, he was among friends, it helped, a little. “No, it’s a long and boring story and I just have to work through it. I’ll be fine.”

Hawke bit her lip for a second. “Is Justice uncomfortable, does he have problems feeling like he’s trapped?”

Anders paused for a moment; she wasn’t actually suggesting…“I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

“So why not get him to come forward, just until we’re someplace more promising.” 

Anders scowled at her, she was clearly mad. “I told you, it doesn’t work like that. I can’t do it at will.”

Hawke sighed and it highlighted how tired she looked. “I know you say you two are one, but I’ve heard you speaking to him on occasion.”

Anders swallowed hard, he had no idea anyone heard him when he spoke with Justice quietly sometimes. Though he supposed if it was going to be anyone it would be Hawke, she did pay rather closer attention to him than any of the others did.

“So you can hear him, even if it is as if they are your own thoughts. Just ask him, the worst that can happen is nothing.” She watched him expectantly.

He shook his head, “No, I can’t. I’m not going to put you in danger like that, not again.”

“There are no Templars here to rile him. Last time he didn’t pay the slightest bit attention to me. Stop using me as an excuse all the damn time. You’re like a bard that only knows one song.” She glared at him.

So Anders did exactly as she suggested, he looked to Bethany then to Varric, “What about them? I’m not sure they’ll appreciate Justice just hanging out until I feel better.”

“Let me deal with them. I can’t have you paralyzed with fear if we’re attacked.” She gave him a small smile, probably to soften the blow.

Anders felt a prickle at his pride anyways. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’ve already sweated through your coat, Anders.” 

He looked down and saw she was right. Looking back to her he sighed heavily before nodding, “I’ll try, but Justice can’t really heal.”

Hawke chuckled, “Right, strictly a destroy kind of guy, got it.”

Anders closed his eyes and asked Justice to come out and to help him. The response was immediate, a brief thought flashed through his mind, _“Of course, my friend.”_ And then Anders was comfortably floating on a sea. The thaig gone, if not forgotten.

********

Sekhmet watched as Justice came through; he was calm and not blindingly bright like he was sometimes during a battle. “Thank you, Justice.”

“He should never have come back here. This is your fault.”

She scowled, “He never told me he had a problem.”

“And why should he, he told you he did not want to come to the Deep Roads.” Justice’s words were clipped.

“Not wanting to go and being terrified of them are two separate things.” She sniped right back.

“It is not the Deep Roads. You understand nothing.” Justice strode away from her and headed up the steps to the dais. His voice reverberating off the stone was almost painful. “We should get moving, there obviously is not a way to open that door from this side.”

Bethany was quiet for a moment before speaking shyly, “Couldn’t we blast it open?”

Varric shook his head, “There are already cave ins in this area, we’d likely bring it all down on our heads.”

“Then we should go.” Justice’s too loud voice was curt.

Varric and Bethany both stared at Justice for a moment but followed behind him as he started walking with long strides. Varric fell back to where Sekhmet walked and looked at her questioningly, “What’s with Blondie being all glowy?”

She smiled, “He’s pretty like that isn’t he?”

Varric shook his head, “You’re impossible, Hawke.”

“So I’ve been told. Let’s hurry; I struggle to keep up with Anders on a normal day.” They both fell back into step behind Justice again and Varric didn’t bother to ask any more questions. 

*********

When they came upon the first of the odd rock creatures, only Justice didn’t freeze. He whipped up a tempest, hurling lightning at the creatures as if he had seen them every day. Sekhmet stood in shock; misshapen stones seemed to form rudimentary limbs and a head. She wasn’t even sure if she could hurt them with her blades.

As it turned out she didn’t need too. Wherever they cropped up Justice and Bethany dispatched them quickly. Sekhmet and Varric concentrated on anything else they ran across, shades mostly. They came to a large cavern and were halted by another of the rock creatures.

He was made mostly of stone, just as the others were; he had a rudimentary skull made of stone as well as his limbs. But he was different in that there was a visible energy seeming to hold him together. The pale, yellowish light seeming to almost form joints. The light also shone from its one pale eye socket.

“Enough,” it called in a voice as rough and dry as leaves. It called the other creatures The Profane and said it did not want to see them hurt needlessly.

Sekhmet sneered at the creature, apparently it didn’t know the meaning of the word needlessly. “I’d say being attacked on sight gives us plenty of need.”

The creature explained that The Profane were spirits that fed on the lyrium in the abandoned thaig for so long that all they knew anymore was the need for the lyrium. 

Justice pulsed bright for a moment before his voice echoed in the small room. “This is a demon of hunger come to feed.”

The creature seemed surprised to hear Justice’s voice; perhaps it sensed another creature from the Fade, “I would not see my feast end.”

Sekhmet sighed, they always tried to bargain; demons were predictable like that.

“I sense your desire, you wish to leave this place but you will need my help to do so.”

“Do not be foolish.” Justice chided behind Sekhmet.

“I really don’t like the sound of this.” Bethany joined Justice’s disapproval.

Only Varric seemed interested. “What other choice do we have?”

“Why do we need your help?” Best to get as much information as she could before putting the thing down.

“You seek a way out of this place. There is another door that leads to the pathways above, but it is sealed and cannot be opened without a key. I know where the key is. Do as I ask and I will tell you.”

Varric looked at her, strain on his face, “So what do you say?”

Well, that told her all she needed to know. There was another way out of here and the key was somewhere they could get to. They would find their own way out. It was good news actually, she had begun to doubt she’d ever see the sun again. She shook her head, “Sorry Varric, I’m not dealing with demons.”

“Most un…” The demon was cut off midsentence as Justice hit it with a blast of blue energy. It crumbled to the floor in a pile of ash.

What the…Sekhmet spun to face Justice, “What was that?”

“It is done, let us go.” He gestured forward. 

Sekhmet’s mouth hung open as she saw that there were small piles of ash all around them. “Justice, what did you do?” How many were there, two dozen at least? How did he kill them all? What was that spell? It had felt like Anders’ magic and smelled like it but she’d never seen or felt that particular spell cast before.

“They were surrounding us and now they are dead. Let us go and find this key.” He started walking forward again, not waiting for the others.

The three of them followed Justice silently, all seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Sekhmet was in awe of the spirit, she had never seen destruction of that magnitude, not even from Justice. As they walked she noticed Justice was glowing brighter and brighter.

What was going on? Was being in control for so long doing something to him? Was it hurting Anders? “Uh, Justice. Is everything alright?”

He paused and looked at her, the swirled blue of his spirit energy covering all of Anders’ eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you keep glowing brighter.” She gestured to his torso as if to emphasize.

“It is the lyrium, it is everywhere here.” He shook his head, “It sings and is distracting, but I seem to be absorbing some of it as well. Though I know not how.” 

Sekhmet noticed he was fondly stroking a blue vein of lyrium on the wall. Sekhmet chuckled as Justice pulsed almost blindingly bright for a moment. “Justice, step _away_ from the lyrium.”

Justice turned to look at his hand and carefully stepped away from the vein he had been stroking. 

“Should we maybe have Anders come back?”

“No, I will be fine.” Justice turned away from her and surged forward again. 

She hurried to keep up with him, “Isn’t raw lyrium deadly to mages? Just touching it can kill them, can’t it?”

Justice paused and looked at his hands before looking back at her. “For most mages that would be the case, I can only surmise that my joining with Anders has somehow protected him.”

“What about when you are no longer in control, can it hurt him then?” That would be just her luck, Justice poisoning Anders with lyrium.

“No, I would feel it if it were to make him ill. He is fine.” He started moving again, ending their discussion.

Would Justice tell her the truth if it was hurting Anders? He didn’t seem to be lying to her; she doubted he even considered her worthy of lying to. For now she would have to believe him. Only time would tell for sure.

She watched him closely, and from time to time the spirit canted his head to the side as if listening to something. Sekhmet smiled, seemed the spirit had a bit of an addiction problem. She tried to keep up with him so they wouldn’t stumble blindly into danger while the spirit was swept away with whatever he was hearing.

********

Justice clutched the sides of his head as Anders screamed at him. He wasn’t sure how the mage had seen what was happening; perhaps it was the lyrium distracting Justice. He had been focused on killing the giant rock wraith and hadn’t really noticed it. But, Anders had seen Hawke flung against a pillar and fall bonelessly to the ground, she wasn’t stirring.

Anders was screaming for Justice to relinquish control so he could go heal her, but Justice was more concerned with the giant rock wraith they were still fighting. Bethany was distracted by healing Varric. Who had a large gash on his forehead, but was still firing his bow at the monstrosity.

The only thing that Justice had found that actually seemed to be injuring the creature was lightning, which was lucky because Anders was particularly good at lightning spells and by extension so was Justice. But Justice could barely concentrate between the lyrium singing all around him and Anders throwing a fit. The lyrium in here was a deep blood red instead of usual blue and its song was stronger, deeper than that of the blue ore.

Finally, he gave up and let Anders through. 

********

Anders ran to Hawke, heedless of the rock wraith and fell to his knees at her side. “Don’t let me be too late.” He put up a shield protecting them both as he checked her over. Relieved to find her alive, if a bit banged up, he bit his lip as he healed the most dangerous injuries quickly before pulling her behind the pillar she had been thrown against.

With the pillar protecting them somewhat he could focus more of his energy on healing Hawke. “Idiot girl, I told you he couldn’t heal.” He knit her bones back together and healed a few of her organs. She sat up slowly as she finally started to come around.

She gasped when she looked up at him. “Anders? Where’s Justice?”

“Well how’s that for a ‘Thanks for saving my life’?” He helped her to her feet. “Are you alright?” He cast a quick rejuvenation on her, surprised that even with so little food and sleep she had still bounced back quickly.

She peered around the pillar, “What hit me?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know exactly, the stones all contract into a ball and start humming. When that happens you should run for cover, because after that a huge wave of some kind of energy hits anything in its path. It’s what caught you.”

Hawke placed her gauntleted hand on his arm, “Anders, are _you_ alright?”

He scowled at her, she’d been half dead a moment ago and she was wasting time and energy on worrying about his mental state? What an impossible woman. “Just go kill that will you?”

Hawke grinned, “For you, Anders, the world.” She ran out to attack the rock wraith again. With everyone on their feet again, and now aware of what to look out for, the fight was over fairly quickly.

As the pile of stones crumbled back to the ground Varric walked up to it and kicked it. “Rock wraiths are _supposed_ to be dwarven legends.”

Hawke chuckled, and rubbed her lower back, “Felt pretty real to me.”

“Are you still in pain?” Anders thought he had gotten everything, but they had been in the middle of a battle. Perhaps he had missed something in his haste.

“Relax, I’m fine. As good as…well not new, but as good as I was before I tried to become one with a stone pillar.” She flashed him a smirk.

That was a relief at least.

They started to cross the chamber when Bethany’s eyes went wide, “Look at that! Do you suppose the key is here?” She jogged to a small room filled with chests and loose piles of stones and gold.

Hawke’s smirk turned into a big smile. “Can’t hurt to look.”

Varric snorted, “We should grab as much of this stuff as we can carry too, this looks like the vault. At least it won’t have been a wasted trip.”

Anders hung back in the larger chamber. He tucked the things handed to him into his pack but he wasn’t up to squeezing into the room with everyone else. What he really wanted was to get the Void out of the Deep Roads. 

Bethany suddenly stood up, “I found a key.” She came stumbling out of the vault towards Anders. 

A familiar buzzing and pressure prickled at the base of Anders’ skull. He closed his eyes, and rubbed the back of his neck. How had he missed that? He opened his eyes and looked at her again, the buzzing persisted. Bethany felt tainted, but she looked fine. 

Maybe he was mistaken; maybe it was just the corruption on the walls around them. His opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and let out a long slow breath. He would wait and see if things changed as they moved, hopefully towards the surface.

Beth slipped the key into the door and it swung open. She turned to him with a triumphant smile, “Looks like we’ll be seeing the sun in no time.”

Anders tried to return her smile and failed utterly. All he could do was hope that sweet Beth wasn’t tainted. But the Darkspawn were greedy, they claimed a lot of things that belonged basking in the sun.

********

Anders kept his mouth shut and hoped that he was wrong, even though he knew he wasn’t, right up until Bethany collapsed. He went to her, her pulse was thready and she had a fever. The thin lines of the corruption were climbing up over her neck and across her face like spidery veins.

He had failed in keeping them safe from the taint, but perhaps he could save Bethany yet. She didn’t deserve to die down here in the dark. 

Hawke held her sister and looked to Anders. “What’s wrong with her?”

“It’s the blight, I can feel it.”

“Can you heal her?” She asked, obviously she had to, but from the look in her eyes she already knew the answer. 

He shook his head, “No, not from this.”

Hawke turned her face away for a moment before turning back. “We have to get her to the surface.”

Bethany’s head lolled back, “We’ll never make it, it’s coming on faster.”

“We have to do something.”

Anders stood and took a look around them. He thought he might know where they were, based on the maps he had taken from the Wardens. Maybe he could get Bethany to them in time. “There might be a way, if we can find the Wardens.”

“What way? What are you talking about?” Hawke was looking for any hope, or at least answers.

“Becoming a Warden might stop the taint from spreading.” He chose his words carefully, it was hope, but they might not find the Wardens and even if they did she might still die.

“So it’s a cure?” Her hand carefully brushed hair from Beth’s face.

He sighed, “In a way, but being a Warden is hard and she can never leave them.”

Hawke scowled, “What? Why not, you left the Wardens.”

His voice turned bitter, “You think I got away? Sooner or later the Wardens or the Templars will drag me back. I have no illusions about that.”

“We have to try at least.” He could hear the pleading in her voice.

Anders helped Bethany to her feet and offered to carry her, but she refused. “Just help me.”

Anders nodded, and draped her arm over his shoulders as he helped her along.

********

As another Darkspawn fell Anders saw Stroud standing before him. Relief and anxiety washed over him in equal measure. 

“Anders”

Ander gave a brief nod, “Stroud, fancy meeting you here.” His attempt at levity was short lived; Stroud did not seem pleased to see him.

“I could say the same, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He glared at Anders.

“That’s the rumor, but I didn’t come to swap stories with you.” He turned to Hawke who was holding Bethany up.

“You mean…the girl as a recruit.” He turned to Anders and shook his head, “Of course you do.” He turned back to Hawke and Bethany, “I am sorry, but becoming a Warden is not a cure, it’s a calling, becoming a Warden is not a kindness.”

Hawke took a step closer to Stroud straightening her spine as she looked him in the eyes, “Bethany is a very powerful mage, you would be an idiot to turn her away.” 

Anders felt a flicker of hope when Stroud flinched just the tiniest bit at Hawke’s vehemence. 

Stroud turned back to Anders with a reproachful look, “Besides, the Joining can be as much a death sentence as the blight, you know that.”

“She’ll die anyway, at least try, she’s worth your time.” When Stroud didn’t seem moved Anders used the only other card he had to play, “I’m asking you.” He watched Stroud closely to make sure the Warden understood what he was saying.

Stroud nodded, “Very well, but if I do this, we are even.”

Anders nodded. Anything, as long as there was a chance it would save Bethany.

Stroud dismissed Anders and turned all his attention to Hawke. “Then she comes with us now and you may not see her again.”

Bethany spoke softly to Hawke, “Are you sure about this?”

Hawke gave her a small smile, “Not even a little bit, but you’ll die otherwise. And this way the Templars can never touch you. You’ll never have to run again.”

Beth’s voice was quiet. “And I can never come home.”

Hawke’s voice hitched a little and Anders thought she would cry, “Beth, I’m so s…”

Bethany could barely lift her head, but cut her sister off anyways. “Then I guess this is it, take care of mother.”

Hawke held her for as long as she could as Stroud came and took Bethany from her. Varric and Anders stayed behind her as she watched Stroud leave with Bethany. The minutes stretched out and Hawke finally took a deep breath and turned back to them.

“Let’s get out of here, now please.” Her tone was flat and even her gaze seemed to have no life in it. 

Anders had seen that look before and it made him shudder. Someone was going to pay for what had happened to Bethany; he just hoped it wouldn’t be him. 

********

Three days slipped by with them walking and stopping to rest at night or what approximated night in the Deep Roads. Hawke did not speak and did not join them around the fire at night. She ate off on her own and turned in immediately. She slaughtered the Darkspawn they encountered without emotion, just mechanically working through them one by one; her silence during battles frightened him.

On the third evening Anders could take no more of the eerie silence. He stood and walked towards where she was sitting on the edges of the fire light. 

“Blondie, leave it.” Varric’s voice piped up from behind him. “She’ll be fine. She’s strong.”

Anders ignored him and sat down beside her. “I know you’re hurting.” He stopped when she turned to look at him.

She raised a brow, “Is this where you tell me that you understand? That you’ve lost things too? Is this where you try to make me feel better because I’m not alone?” Hawke jumped to her feet and wandered farther down the road out of the reach of the light from the campfire.

Anders paused for a minute before following her. She was leaning against the filthy wall when he found her. “You shouldn’t wander alone down here, it’s dangerous.” His voice was low.

“What is it you want from me, Anders?”

Anders shook his head, “Nothing.”

“Then why are you following me?”

“I can’t just talk to you?”

Anders let out an involuntary gasp as she suddenly grabbed him and pinned him against the wall. She pressed herself against him and stood up on her toes to place a kiss on his lips. Anders fought with himself, he wanted to open his lips and kiss her back, wanted to wind his arms around her waist and pull her close, but it was too dangerous. She moved, brushing kisses along his jaw. 

“Hawke.” His voice was a lot deeper than he had intended it to be.

She kissed the hollow behind his ear and whispered, “Fuck me Anders, please. Nothing more, just a fuck in the dark.” Her hand reached between them, cupping him gently in her hand.

Anders jerked and pushed her away from him, stepping away from the wall at the same time. He shook his head, “I can’t.”

He was caught by surprise when she suddenly shoved him. “Then hit me.”

Anders took a stumbling step away from her, “What? No.”

She shoved him again, “Why, too afraid I’ll hit you back?”

He took another step away from her, “Hawke stop.”

She shoved him again harder this time and he almost fell over a loose rock on the road. Anders felt his temper flare briefly but tightly reigned it back in, Justice was the last thing she needed right now. Hawke reached out and slapped him hard enough to make his ears ring.

“Hawke,” he growled.

“That’s it,” she slapped him again. “Get angry at me, Anders.” She swung at him again and he felt himself pushed under like a tide.

********

Justice grabbed her wrist before it could connect. “Stop.” He bellowed.

Hawke looked up at him with a smirk, “Don’t you want to hurt me Justice? A little pay back for dragging Anders back into the Deep Roads?”

“No, I do not.” He released her and calmly walked back towards the campfire, passing Varric who was rushing towards them with his crossbow drawn. 

********

Anders was standing at the outside edge of the fire light, Justice already gone when he heard them speaking behind him. He was shaken, but thankful that Justice hadn’t hurt her.

“What happened, are you alright Hawke?” Varric sounded a little panicked.

“I’m fine Varric. Anders, Justice and I just had a little chat. Nothing to worry about.”

A few moments later Hawke walked past him without speaking and climbed into her bedroll facing the wall. She lay perfectly still and Anders didn’t see her move even once as he finally dozed off himself. His dreams that night were worse than usual. Not of Darkspawn, but of Hawke underneath him crying out as he fucked her with wild abandon on the floor of the Deep Roads. The unconscious mind could be a cruel thing sometimes.

The next morning they all acted as if nothing had happened. Hawke was speaking again and though Anders kept his distance from her they were all friendly enough. The rest of the trip to surface only took two days, but felt like a decade to Anders as he relieved the brief encounter in the Deep Roads again and again and again. When he asked Justice why he had taken control he was even more confused. Justice had said only that she was beautiful and he wanted to fully see her.

As soon as they reached the surface Varric said his good-byes and promised to find Bartrand. Hawke traded a few quips with the dwarf before he disappeared into the Hanged Man. Anders and Hawke stood outside its doors awkwardly for a few moments.

“Bethany’s a strong girl, she’ll make it.” It was a platitude and he knew it, but was at a loss for what else to say.

Hawke shuffled her feet in the dirt, “For what it’s worth Anders, I’m sorry about…what I did to you in the Deep Roads.” She gave him a small, almost shy smile, “That was fucked up, even by my standards.”

Anders waived her off, “Nothing to forgive, grief is a strange thing.”

She nodded, “Then I’ll see you soon?”

That hopeful tone in her voice was dangerous, but Anders nodded anyways, “Soon.”

Hawke turned and walked off towards Gamlen’s. Anders didn’t envy the news she had to give her family.


	24. Weathering The Storm

It had been nearly six months since their little excursion into the Deep Roads. Anders hadn’t seen much of Hawke. She’d come to the clinic to help out about a week after their return, quiet and sullen. And Anders was no better, awkward and ashamed around her.

He hadn’t been able to get them all back to the surface untouched by the taint. Hadn’t been able to give solace to Hawke in a way she could accept. And worse than all of that, each time he saw Hawke he had flashbacks to his dream of the two of them on the floor of the Deep Roads. Even in his crowded clinic he could barely look at her without feeling shame, and self loathing.

After three days of the two of them moping around she became frustrated. She’d waited until they were closed and begged him to look at her, to talk to her. He offered to talk about anything she wanted, but had been unable to hold her gaze with his own. She’d slammed the door behind her and hadn’t returned.

Feeling alone and useless he had been more than relieved when he found the Mage Underground. He worked in his clinic as long as it was busy, but as soon as it started to slow he closed for the night to see what he could do for the mages. And when he was done with that he wrote letters to Bethany.

He didn’t know if she still lived, but the letters helped keep him sane. He told her of his time with the Wardens, of the family he had found there, not by blood but by brotherhood. He spoke of their secrets as there was no one else he could speak of them with. Mostly though, he apologized for failing to keep her safe, for ripping her from her life and for tying her to a lifetime of brutal service.

And when sleep eluded him, and it often did, he’d write until dawn when he could start the cycle all over again.

It hadn’t taken long for the Mage Underground to pressure him to get Hawke’s help with some of their missions. He’d refused, all but twice when he realized they needed her. He’d gone to her head bowed; begging for favors and she’d readily agreed not knowing why he needed help or who it was they were helping. She always came alone for no other reason than he asked it of her. 

The last time had been more than two months ago. And he had only seen Hawke twice since then. He saw Varric often enough, found out that Hawke had taken no jobs since returning from the Deep Roads. She rarely stayed at the estate with her mother either, but Varric had no idea where she went. He did admit that Aveline had been complaining about bailing her out of trouble on more than one occasion.

Every so often, Hawke showed up at the Hanged Man for drinks and a few games of cards. Last night he had sat all night, far longer than he had planned, and far more than he could afford, just to be near her, to watch her. On the surface she almost seemed like the old Hawke, laughing, smiling, drinking, no flirting though. And she hadn’t even glanced at Anders once. 

Now, he was approaching the Hawke estate slowly, still not completely sure what he was doing. He had spent the last few hours arguing with Varric in the Hanged Man and had finally left in a huff. Anders had honestly thought that Varric knew people better, but the man was obviously deluded when it came to Hawke. Anders wasn’t sure if it was born from guilt or stupidity, but for some reason Varric absolutely refused to see Hawke’s pain.

With the first of the monies she had earned from their trip into the Deep Roads Hawke had bought back her mother’s childhood home in Hightown. She had hired crews to clear it out and managed to make it habitable by the two of them in less than a month. 

Running the estate kept her mother, Leandra, busy which Anders figured was probably the point of the rush. If she was busy with the estate she wouldn’t grieve so much over Bethany. They still hadn’t heard back from her or the Wardens about whether Bethany lived through the joining.

As he came up the lane to the side of the estate he looked up to the window that he knew was to her room. Hawke was there, curled up on the window sill, from way too many walks down this very same path he knew that she sat there often. He wondered, not for the first time if there was a seat in that window, or if she just sat on the wide ledge.

Her head leaned against the window and her eyes were closed. Anders sighed and picked up his pace as he headed for the front door. He needed to go quickly before he lost his nerve, like he had dozens of times before.

Bodahn opened the front door with a smile, “Master Anders, how nice to see you.” He gestured for Anders to go inside and Anders did, stopping inside the door, unsure of what exactly he was going to do. 

It took him a moment to gather himself; he was surprised to see Bodahn. Varric had told him Bodahn had pledged himself to Hawke, but he hadn’t realized Bodahn had become her servant. Finally, he found his voice. “Is Hawke available? I would like to see her.” 

Bodahn nodded, “Wait here messere, I will let her know you’re here.”

Anders waited anxiously in the foyer, hearing indistinct voices from further inside the estate. As footsteps neared he tried to pretend he hadn’t been straining to hear what those voices had been saying.

Hawke stepped into the room, a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes on her face, “Anders, what a surprise. Did you need something?”

“No, I just came to visit.”

Hawke’s smile faltered a little. “Come in, sit. Mother will be glad to see you.”

Anders shook his head, “Actually, would you like to go for a walk?” He wanted to talk, to try to be the friend he had failed to be thus far. He wasn’t sure he could do that with her mother hovering over them both. He’d met Leandra, and she seemed a fine woman, but he had a feeling their conversation would only upset her.

Hawke looked behind her for a moment, “Uh, sure.” She headed to the main room and spoke quietly with Bodahn for a moment before returning with Tyr.

Anders noticed she didn’t have her usual daggers on but had two smaller ones belted around her waist, which was probably smart, they were in Hightown but dusk wasn’t far away. He opened the door and held it for her, closing it quickly behind him as he followed her out. Falling into step beside her he spoke quietly, “Anywhere in particular you would like to go?”

She looked at him curiously, “This is your show Anders, where do you want to go?”

How long would this take? He had no idea, but he had to try to help her. The water always seemed to calm her, maybe that would be a good place to take her. “Let’s head down to the docks.”

She gave him a wan smile, “So it’s to be a long lecture then.”

He frowned, surprised by her assumption. “What makes you think I’m going to lecture you?”

She rolled her eyes, “Considering you hate being alone with me, then you come up to my place alone. Not to mention you ask me to leave the estate with you right after telling me you don’t need anything from me, I think it’s pretty clear I’ve done something wrong again and you got the short end of the stick.” She sighed softly and looked down at her feet as they walked. “So whose contact did I insult or kill?”

“No one, Hawke. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Did the others really send each other to lecture her like she was a child?

She smiled a little, “Varric sick of keeping tabs on me? I’d ask if Aveline sent you, but I know how much the two of you adore each other.”

The more times he met the Guard Captain the less he liked her. He turned his focus back to Hawke. Connect, he needed to connect with her, to…to touch her. Hawke was a tactile creature by nature and they hadn’t touched since that slap in the Deep Roads. Maybe a little tenderness between them would make things easier. He touched her upper arm, his fingers sliding lightly down the back of it. “No one sent me. I can see you have been hurting. I just thought you might want to talk to someone.”

Her insincere smile cracked a little wider, “I’m fine Anders, you can go back to Varric and tell him not to worry so much and not to send you to do his dirty work for him.” She picked up her pace but kept heading towards the docks.

He followed her in silence for a while, waiting for her steps to slow again. She was getting worked up and what followed next would be yelling and fighting. It wasn’t why he had gone to her, it wasn’t what he wanted. Bethany popped in his head. “She’ll be fine, she’s strong Hawke.”

“Ah, it’s about Bethany, I see. I promise I’ll tell you as soon as I hear anything.” And her tone was icy, clipped, freezing him out. 

Anders was rapidly losing his patience. She was being deliberately obtuse. Did she just want him to say it? “I’m worried about you, Hawke.”

She picked up her pace again, trying to put some physical distance between them. “And why would you have any reason to be worried about me? Varric is making sure you have your cut of everything from the Deep Roads. I’ve helped you with anything and everything you’ve asked me too. What exactly is the problem?”

Anders didn’t think, he just acted, he reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her up short. There had been enough distance between her and everyone else since they returned from the Deep Roads. She needed someone to look out for her. He held her still, his eyes taking in her face; he brushed his thumb across the crease by her left eye and ignored the pounding of his heart. “This is the problem; this sadness in your eyes, even when you smile it never reaches your eyes anymore.”

She snorted, “I think you’re seeing things. There’s nothing for you to feel guilty about, nothing you need to apologize or make up for. Whatever notion you have in your head, you’re absolved.”

His patience was unraveling. “Stop it; I’m not Varric or Isabela. You can’t tell me some half assed story and expect me to pretend to believe it.”

Hawke’s face twisted in anger, “Why do you even care Anders?” Tyr started barking, obviously noticing Hawke was upset.

Anders was shocked, horrified. How could she even ask him that? Was she really that surprised that he cared about her? “Because we’re friends.”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, is that what we are? I thought I was your meal ticket. Your cash cow so you could fund that clinic of yours.”

Anders furrowed his brow, “No, of course not. Why would you even think that?”

“Maybe because the only time I see you is when there’s something I can do for you.” She pulled away from his grip and started walking down the steps into Lowtown with Tyr close on her heels.

Still feeling a bit stunned Anders followed her but kept a little distance between them. He hadn’t meant to make her feel like he was using her, but thinking back over the last few months he could understand why she felt that way. Anders had tried to stay away from her as much as he could. 

He’d had his own demons to deal with since coming back from the Deep Roads and staying away from her had been the easiest way, in theory, to do that. Besides his guilt and shame he didn’t want to tempt himself any more than necessary, but there were some things he needed to have her help on. He was an idiot, not to realize how that would look to her. Especially, after what had happened between them in the Deep Roads.

Even with his long legs he had to walk quickly to keep up with her as she cut through Lowtown grumbling at anyone who got in her way. Tyr was snarling at her heels, turning on any passerby who got too close to his mistress. It was one of those odd things about Mabari, how they always picked up on their master’s moods.

Anders made sure to stay away from the dog as he continued following her, the sun had set and the sky was quickly darkening, he didn’t want her out of his sight. She ignored him completely as she kept moving; she took the steps from Lowtown down to the docks two at a time. The steps were steep as it was and he was worried she was going to fall.

“Anders, go home.” She called behind her.

If he was smart he would have listened to her, but the truth was that where Hawke was concerned he was an idiot, a fool, a scared and lost little puppy. And so, he followed her, finally catching her at the bottom of the steps. He touched her shoulder and she spun around to look at him, taking deep breaths, her hair coming loose in strands. She licked her dry lips and Anders watched the small motion, his heart beating fast. 

She was manic and stunning.

He was leaning forward when he caught himself and rested his forehead against hers. “I care for you Hawke, we’re friends.” He gave her a rueful smile, “I just don’t always trust myself around you.” It was a little more truth than he had planned, but there was no turning back now.

“Is it really so bad?” Her voice was barely a whisper and he felt her breath ghost across his face.

Just the smallest space between them, all he had to do was tilt his head and he could be kissing her, finding out what those painted lips tasted like. Yes, he was most certainly a fool. Slowly, he pulled away from her, “Yes. Things would end badly between us; I can never be what you need, what you want. So for both our sakes, I try to stay away. But I care about you. I want us to be friends.”

“You have no idea what I want or need, Anders. Quit making assumptions about me.”

He brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face, “I can’t be what anyone wants or needs. I’m possessed, remember?” Time to come back to reality now.

She touched his hand and twined her fingers with his, “I don’t care, I want to try.” 

The touch was electric, first shooting tingles across his skin before sending waves of warmth and comfort through him. Anders looked down at their hands, and the promise it held. His heart skipped a beat. Maker, he wanted it, wanted her, so damn bad. “I’m sorry. The best I can offer you is my friendship.”

She nodded slowly and slipped her hand free of his, Anders mourned the loss. “Then I guess I’ll have to take what I can get.” She turned from him and headed to a set of stairs heading into the water near the end of the docks that she liked to sit on sometimes. Hawke and her companions had been seen at the docks enough that they were still usually left alone.

He followed her down the steps and settled down next to her. “You still come down here alone?”

“I’m not alone.”

It’s like she couldn’t stop herself from arguing with him. He tried not to smile. “Not tonight, but I’m guessing you’ve been down here a lot lately.”

“I always bring Tyr. He’s a good dog, he watches out for me.” She reached out next to her and scratched her Mabari’s ears.

They sat in silence for a long time, watching the moon slowly rise. The night was beautiful; the stars glittering like gems in the sky and the soft lap of the waves against the base of the steps was soothing. Anders’ mind wandered as he sat beside her, he thought about sitting on the roof at the Keep. It was the only other place he could remember being at peace like this during the night. 

“Mother begged me not to take her.” Hawke’s voice was a whisper beside him.

Anders’s mind had wandered so much it almost felt as if he was suddenly pulled back into his body at her words. He turned to look at her; her pale skin was luminous in the moonlight. The trek into the Deep Roads had unbelievably leeched what little color, if it could be called that, she’d had from her skin. And she apparently hadn’t been out in the sun much since.

“But Bethany wanted to go. She was afraid the Templars would come for her while I was gone and there would be no one there to protect her. So I agreed, even against my better judgment I dragged my baby sister into the Darkspawn infested Deep Roads, knowing how dangerous it was. I dragged her into the dark to her probable death.”

Anders tried to gauge how she was feeling but she was very still and her voice was almost flat. 

Her soft voice carried to him again, but now it was tremulous and she sounded on the verge of tears. “I have had this nightmare since…since papa died. They all die one by one and I see it but I can’t save them. There are always other people in the dreams and I can always save them, but never my family. They all die, and I can’t even help them. And now it’s like its coming true.

I spend hours…days going over and over it all. Father, Carver, Bethany, there has to be something I could have done, some way I could have saved them. If I had been faster I could have saved them.” A tear ran down her cheek and she brushed it impatiently away. “I’m always too slow.” She shook her head, “I am never fast enough.” She turned to look at Anders with tears in her eyes, “I try, I really do, but it’s never fast enough, I’m too slow.” She hung her head, “I’m just too slow.”

Anders rubbed her back gently, her tears breaking his heart. “I don’t know that there’s another person in Thedas as fast as you are,” he shook his head, “There’s no way you could save them. It wasn’t your fault, none of it was. And I swear to you, Bethany is going to be fine. She’s a fighter.”

Hawke’s smile was weak, “I hope so. Mother still hasn’t forgiven me for taking her.”

“She doesn’t blame you, she’s just grieving. Give her time.” He was trying to help her, but wasn’t sure if he was just spouting more platitudes or not. Being a healer he was trained to offer them, to put the patient or their family at ease. Sometimes it was hard for him to tell when he was being a healer and when he was being a friend.

Hawke shrugged, “It’s not like I have a choice, I live with her.”

A cool breeze came across the water and Anders watched as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back a little letting the wind ruffle through her hair. Her sadness seemed to lift a bit and a contented smile curved her lips for a moment. “Storm’s coming.”

Anders glanced up and saw that there were thick storm clouds rolling across the sky quickly, blinking out the stars as they moved. Sekhmet pulled the pins from her hair and shook it loose tucking her pins into one of her many pockets. Tyr snuffled at the air and stood turning in a tight circle, whining quietly.

She looked down and ruffled his fur before standing up slowly. Descending another step she leaned forward, looking almost mesmerized as the wind picked up and buffeted against her body. Anders got nervous as he watched lightning crack overhead, “Maybe we should get away from the water.”

Hawke shook her head, her hair whipping back and forth as the breeze turned into stronger gusts of wind. She spread her arms wide as the wind pressed against her, molding the fabric and leather tight against her. She looked upwards and laughed as another bit of lightning streaked across the sky. Anders stood and backed a step away from the water as thunder sounded in the distance.

“What are you doing Hawke? Come away from there.” She was going to get herself electrocuted at this rate and there was no way he was about to let that happen.

She turned and flashed him a smile, “I love storms you can feel them right down to your bones, the wind, the rain, even the thunder, you can feel the crackle of lightning across your skin while it’s miles away.” She laughed again. “Is that what you feel like when you do magic? Like the power is singing through your whole body, like you’re more alive at that moment than any other?”

Anders couldn’t tear his eyes off of her. She was magnetic, an almost wild gleam in her eyes. He could see her pulse racing along the pale skin of her throat and had a mad urge to lick it, to feel it flutter against his tongue. Soon, he found himself smiling with her; she hopped up the two stairs to reach him and started pulling on the belt holding his coat closed.

“Hey, what are you…” Had she caught his wayward thoughts?

She gave him a long suffering look and he closed his mouth. No, she had something else in mind apparently. She pulled his coat off and set it gently on the ground before pointing to Tyr and then Anders’ coat, clearly meaning for the dog to watch over it. She pushed Anders down a few steps.

“Close your eyes, Anders.” It was whispered close to his ear.

A delicious shiver rippled down his spine. He wondered briefly if he leaned backwards would she try to catch him, wrap her arms around him? Anders hesitantly closed his eyes, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as he waited to be struck by lightning for tempting fate. 

Hawke gripped his arms lightly and shook him a bit, “Relax Anders.”

“Right, lightning is flying around us and you want me to relax.” Well, it sounded good.

“You throw lightning around every day; don’t tell me you’re afraid of it.”

Anders’ smile was small, but genuine, “Not afraid, just not excited about the pain or death part.”

Hawke giggled and Anders had to resist looking at her, he had sorely missed the sound of her laughter, her genuine laughter. He pushed the thought away and tried to concentrate on the feeling of the storm. He almost laughed himself when she spread his arms wide and tilted his head back slightly. But only by biting his tongue was he able to stop himself from grumbling when she pulled his leather thong from his hair letting the wispy strands fly loose. Getting his hair tied back again in this wind was going to be impossible.

The irritation fled when another wave of wind came up and buffeted his body. The charged air sent tingles along his spine from between his shoulder blades up the back of his neck. He shuddered a little at the feeling. The second gust caused him to sway as it shifted his hair in swirls around his head and again the charged particles sent tingles along the back of his neck.

A small gasp escaped him as he relaxed and gave himself over to the sensations. How had he never felt a storm like this? Never enjoyed the feeling as it caressed his skin and tickled the nerves? The subtle presses were almost sensual; Anders turned his head a little letting the wind caress the side of his face and resisted the urge to run his fingers over his skin.

The sound of the thunder in the distance became a loud thrum of his heart. He even felt the shift in the wind as it became more laden with moisture, it would come any moment and Anders wanted to feel it on his skin, wanted to see what the warm drops would feel like sliding over his charged skin. 

He didn’t have long to wait. The first drops were like heavy kisses against his skin, the trails they left like the sweet passage of a lover’s tongue. “Sweet Maker.” He whispered as the rain fell over him, it was as if every cell in his body woke up to it, drank the water up, restoring a vitality to him he hadn’t felt in ages.

A sound almost like a laugh escaped him, just a storm, it was just a storm, and he had seen dozens in his life time, why did this one feel so different? But he already knew the answer to that, it was her, she saw it, felt it differently and had shared it with him. 

“Anders,” her words were whispered but he heard the awe in her voice.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She’d moved around him and was standing a couple steps below him now, looking up at him. Her hair was a wild flurry of white around her pale face and purple painted lips. And her crystalline blue eyes had become dark as she watched him.

Her hand hesitantly reached out to touch him, her eyes almost reverent. “Sweet Andraste, you’re beautiful.”

Anders looked down to his arm where she had run her fingers over his bare skin; it was only then that he realized that he was glowing. It was odd, usually he was in control or he lost all control and Justice would take over. But this was something new, and different.

Justice seemed as fascinated by the feelings the storm had stirred in him as Anders was. Anders felt dazed; his senses were on overload but he felt light, like he could float away. And as the storm began to rage around them and through him Anders felt a peace he hadn’t known in over a year and a half. 

He pulled Hawke close to him, only Justice’s sharp voice stopping him from kissing her at the last moment. Instead, he held her tight, hugging her, “Thank you.” He whispered. He stood still for a minute, his body reluctant to release her.

When he did release her she smiled at him, the sadness mostly gone from her eyes. “I thought all kids liked to play in storms.”

Anders shrugged, “If I did, I don’t remember.” He turned his face up letting the rain fall on his face before looking back to her, “We should probably get out of the rain, there’s an entrance to Darktown not far from here.”

Hawke shook her head, “I want to walk in the rain. It feels good.”

Anders felt another smile tug at his lips. He had no idea how she did that, before he had met her he had been sure he would never have the urge to smile again, but it seemed she was able to pull them from him again and again, without much effort at all. “A walk in the dark and the rain back to Hightown? I’m game.”

As they neared Hightown Anders couldn’t keep his mouth shut, his curiosity was getting the best of him. “You’re still not afraid of Justice.” It was more of a statement, but he didn’t need to ask, she had touched him, not something she would have done if she was scared.

She pushed her sodden hair from her face and shrugged, blinking to look at him through the rain that was still falling in near sheets. “He’s part of you.”

“He nearly killed you Hawke, and could again. I have no control over him.” He hated to admit it, but it was the truth.

She smiled, “You didn’t even know he was there tonight. And he didn’t seem to have any inclination to hurt me.”

“That might not always be the case.” He insisted. 

“Anders have you met my friends? Aveline could have me arrested and locked up at anytime. Merrill could turn her blood magic on me, or become possessed by a demon and go mad. Besides ruining my reputation, Varric has more dirt on me than anyone else. Oh, and did I mention he has a wickedly beautiful and deadly crossbow? 

And Isabela could have a fit and poison me and I’d never even know until it was too late, she could stab me in the back or slit my throat at any moment for any of a dozen reasons. And let’s not forget your favorite, Fenris. The man could literally rip my still beating heart from my chest in a fit of pique. I don’t exactly scare easy, Anders.”

Anders felt a muscle in his jaw jump; he had no idea what to say to any of that. He spent so much time worrying about what he might do to her, it didn’t really dawn on him that the others might pose a similar threat. Well, if he was honest he had thought about the possibility of Fenris hurting her.

As if she had read his thoughts she smirked at him, the effect ruined by the rain cascading over her skin. “See, you don’t for one second believe that you’re a greater threat than Fenris.”

Anders gave short nod as they neared the door to her estate, “Alright. You don’t scare easy.”

“Does it bother you?” She asked as she moved into the small covered alcove in front of her door.

“It really should, but it’s a nice change to be honest. To have one person in my life who isn’t afraid of me. But it’s dangerous.” 

She scowled at him. “I thought this wasn’t to be a lecture.”

Anders nodded, “Fair enough. Besides, I should get going.” Otherwise he would end up lecturing her, about how she didn’t seem to have the good sense to be afraid of anything.

Hawke rolled her eyes “You’re not going anywhere. You’re soaked and it’s getting cold.” She ran her hand lightly over the thin fabric clinging to his stomach. “When was the last time you ate a decent meal?” She grabbed his wrist as she opened the door. “Mother,” she bellowed before tugging roughly on Anders’ arm, pulling him into the estate behind her.

“Honestly, Hawke I have…”

Anders was cut off by a loud exclamation from the far end of the foyer, “Look at you two!” She rushed forward and grabbed them both by an arm and dragged them into the estate. “Bodahn, build up that fire in the library and get these two some fresh clothes and blankets.” 

She turned to Anders, “You can change in one of the spare rooms.” She looked him over before nodding to herself. “You should fit quite nicely in some of Malcolm’s clothes, he wasn’t quite as tall as you, but it should be fine.” Glancing at him again she shook her head, “Maker, you’re a skinny thing.” She tutted and headed towards the kitchens, “We’ll just have to feed you.” She gave a short nod as she continued to talk to herself as she disappeared.

Anders stared after her, “Wow, that was…something.”

Hawke laughed a little and nodded, “Gotta love her. She is a lot more…like my mother, since we moved here.”

That was an odd statement but before Anders could ask her more about it Bodahn came back into the room, “More wood’s been laid on the fire, messere. Now you go change before Mistress Amell comes back and sees you still standing here. Master Anders, if you would follow me.” He headed up the stairs and across the mezzanine, and Anders followed. Bodahn held open a door for Anders to enter, “I shall return with clothes shortly, messere.”

Anders nodded and looked around the room. It was richly appointed, heavy tapestries hung on the walls and the bed was a large four poster affair with affixed velvet curtains of a rich blue. There were a few wall sconces, he walked to the nearest one to light the lamp and shed a little light over the room. 

He spied a looking glass in one corner and couldn’t help but to take a look at himself. He cringed a little at what he saw. His small looking glass at the clinic was large enough for him to shave in and that was about it. But this was full length and it showed how the thin, wet fabric of his tunic clung to his skin.

His shoulders were still broad and his chest still looked a little defined, but Leandra was right he was too thin. It was easy to see his ribs, even through the tunic. He ran a hand over his chest, and realized how much definition he had lost. Of course he had seen this all in bits and pieces before, but the effect of seeing it all at once made it clear that he hadn’t been eating properly in far too long.

Bodahn knocked lightly before pushing the door back open. Tyr followed him in carrying Anders’ very bedraggled looking coat in his mouth; he dropped it near Anders’ feet before retreating. Anders had somehow forgotten all about it. Bodahn set a stack of clothes and a towel on the bed. “When you are ready, Mistress Hawke and Mistress Amell will be in the library, messere.”

Anders gave an unsure nod. He felt like he had stepped into another dimension. Bodahn left quickly closing the door behind him. Anders crossed the room and picked up the towel. He started with his hair and worked his way down before stripping out of his clothes and drying off his bare skin quickly.

He paused for a moment wondering if he should put his smalls back on, but decided against it, he really was starting to feel chilled after so long in the rain. He slid the trousers on, pulling the laces tight, they were still baggy on him and a few inches too short, but they were soft and comfortable. He pulled the tunic on and then a leather vest over that. 

He thought for a moment about tying his hair back again, but it dried faster if it was down. Crossing back to the looking glass he straightened the clothes and ran his fingers through his hair trying to make himself presentable. He shook his head, “What am I doing?” He went back to the door and opened it carefully. 

He crept down the stairs slowly in bare feet; his socks and boots were drenched. He peered into the library. “Where can I set my boots to dry?” He asked softly.

Leandra looked up and a small smile touched her lips. “Maker, you’re tall. I always thought Malcolm was tall, but you’re as tall as a tree.”

Anders responded without thinking, “Apparently, I get that from my father.”  
“Oh? And who is your father, King Maric?” She chuckled.

Anders’ heart screeched to a halt in his chest with shock. Then he remembered people used to say Maric was ‘big as life and twice as tall’. Relaxing a bit he decided to tease her a bit. “Imagine that, a mage prince of Ferelden living in Darktown.”

It had the effect he’d hoped for, Leandra giggled like a girl, absolutely charming. She stood and walked to him, “Here give me your boots, I’ll take care of them.” She took them and set them down for a moment before she steered Anders into the room. She sat him on a cushion on the floor near the fire and draped a blanket over his shoulders. “You just stay here; sit down and get warm. And for Maker’s sake, eat something. I brought out a small tray of food for the two of you.”

With that Leandra picked up his wet boots and swept from the room. Anders settled himself on a cushion and wrapped himself up in the blanket. He sighed in contentment, not only was it warm but it was the softest blanket he’d ever felt. Warm and comfortable he turned his attention to his hunger.

Anders looked at the tray of food and felt a little smile tugging at his lips. Apparently, Leandra took lessons from the Wardens when it came to food. The platter was huge and was piled high with bread, cheese, meat and sliced fruit.

Anders picked up a slice of apple and bit into it with relish; he closed his eyes savoring its sweetness. How long had it been since he had fresh fruit? He followed that with yellowish colored fruit that was slippery to the touch and the skin looked a little fuzzy. He thought they were called peaches but he had never had one.

He wasn’t quite able to hold back his groan of pleasure. When he looked up Hawke was standing in the doorway to the library in a long loose tunic and linen trousers with a grin on her face. She walked to sit on the cushion across from him, wrapped herself in another blanket, before she picked up a piece of cheese munching on it as she watched him.

Feeling self conscious he smoothed a hand over the tunic, “Sorry, is it weird seeing me in these?”

Hawke shook her head, “No, they look good on you.” 

Anders popped a whole strawberry into his mouth, his tongue flicking to lick the juice from his lips.

Hawke smiled at him, genuinely pleased. “Bit of a sweet tooth?”

“I can’t remember the last time I had fresh fruit.” He responded a bit sheepishly. Was it ridiculous to enjoy fruit this much?

The two of them sat in silence as they ate until Leandra wandered back into the room sometime later. She picked up the blanket that had fallen off Hawke’s shoulders and settled it back around her shoulders. It was such a sweet, motherly gesture. And Anders found himself chuckling when she did the same thing to him, like they were kids instead of two adults. 

“Thank you, ma’am” he murmured. Grateful for her kindness, he didn’t experience a lot of kindness, especially since arriving in Kirkwall.

Leandra paused on her way to the sofa and turned to him with a smile, “Call me Leandra, dear.”

“Yes, m…Leandra.” 

Her smile widened and she settled herself on the sofa. “So, Anders you and Sekhmet must be pretty good friends. You’re the first of her friends to visit us here. Well, aside from Aveline but those visits don’t really count.”

Anders looked to Hawke, so it was true she had been getting into scuffles with the law. “Oh, really?”

Leandra frowned, “My daughter…has not been herself.”

He nodded, “I’ve been concerned about that myself.”

“Will you two stop talking like I’m not even here? Better yet, stop talking about me altogether.” Hawke’s sharp tone was echoed by her scowl.

Leandra gave Hawke a small indulgent smile, like one might give a small child, before turning her attention back to Anders. “Well then, are you currently courting anyone?”

Anders snorted with amusement at her directness. “No, I’m single, but unavailable.”

Leandra’s eyes narrowed, “Whatever for, you’re a _very_ handsome young man.”

Seemed Hawke’s mother was as surprising as Hawke herself. Anders already liked her quite rather a lot. And it was nice to be flattered in a motherly way instead of by someone who actually wanted something from him. “Oh, thank you.”

She waived him off, as if the compliment was of no consequence. “Don’t tell me it’s because you’re a mage. There are many women who don’t mind.” She gave him a teasing smile. “There are even those who _prefer_ mages.”

Anders found himself chuckling again. Leandra Hawke was a funny and lively woman. “So I’ve heard.”

“So then, young man, why unavailable? Have your heart set on someone already?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Let’s just say it’s a long story and leave it at that.” He hoped she would drop it, he had no desire to talk about Justice tonight.

“I think you’re cutting yourself off from one of the most precious gifts life can give you. But, I know enough to leave things along when I’m asked. So, let’s talk of other things.” She settled back on the sofa and curled her legs up beside her.

“Like?” Anders was feeling a bit wary now. Leandra’s banter may have been teasing but the way she kept looking at Hawke, while Hawke stared steadfastly into the fire, was proof enough that Leandra had at least an inkling of Hawke’s attraction to him.

“Sekhmet tells me you grew up in the Circle in Ferelden.” It was a casual enough statement.

He nodded, “Yes, although I tried to leave dozens of times. In Ferelden the phylacteries are kept on the otherside of the country in Denerim.”

“So everytime you escaped you took the Templars on a merry chase then; can’t imagine they were pleased about that.” The amusement was gone now.

He let out a long slow breath, relaxing. No need to get wound up about the past. “No, they most definitely were not.”

Leandra sighed softly, “You poor thing. You must have missed your parents terribly.”

He’d been about to say he missed his mother, or it didn’t matter his mother was dead, or even that he didn’t know his father then, but all of those things would invite questions he wasn’t quite ready to answer. So he simply said, “Yes.”

“Have you been able to contact any of your family since you escaped the last time, or were you worried about them alerting the Templars?” She spoke with such compassion, such concern.

Anders' gut tightened and his eyes burned. She made him miss his mother…or Rhoswen he supposed he should call her. Did Hawke know how lucky she was to have a mother who cared for her like this? A living, breathing parent who loved her? He pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself, snuggling into its warmth. 

What he wouldn’t give to be with Rhoswen again, hear her laugh, listen to her jokes. Even to be on the run with her, anything just to have her again, to know he was loved and cared for no matter what kind of trouble he caused or got into. The only thing he had left of her was that pillow. 

He climbed out of his reverie in slow stages to find Leandra watching him patiently. He took a deep breath, “While I was with the Wardens I was able to see some of my family.” Why oh why was he spilling his life story to her? Was it because he missed his own mother so much? Did it take no more than a few motherly gestures for him to unravel? 

Leandra’s eyes shot wide, “You’re a…a Warden? My gracious. I’d heard a few of you survived the Blight.” She turned to Hawke, “Why didn’t you tell me he was a Warden?”

Hawke shrugged, “He doesn’t talk about it much. I figured he might not want it advertised.”

“Sekhmet, the Wardens are heroes.” Her mother admonished.

“Not all of us.” Anders said quietly.

Leandra either didn’t hear him or ignored him. She started to stand, “And here I am sitting him on the floor and giving him cold meats and bread. Come on, we can do better than that.”

Anders stood, “No, don’t trouble yourself. I didn’t become a Warden until after the Blight was over. And honestly, I adore fruit. This is more than adequate.”

Leandra watched him for a moment. She must have realized he was being honest because she eventually said, “If you’re sure.”

He nodded, “I am, thank you again.”

Leandra looked out of the room, her eyes clouding over like she was thinking before she turned back to him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to attend to, quickly. Please sit and relax, and eat.”

He nodded.

“I mean it, Anders. You’re far too skinny. You should take better care of yourself.” 

“Hawke tells me the same thing.” He gave her a small smile.

“Well she’s right. Now sit.” She gestured to the floor and swept from the room.

Anders shook his head and turned to Hawke, “Well at least she got past the hero thing fast enough.”

Hawke giggled, “She’ll come back and pester you some more if you don’t eat. It doesn’t matter who you were she’d be trying to feed you. It’s like she feels she failed as a mother if you don’t eat.”

Anders picked up another piece of peach, “Well, I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Anders wasn’t sure how long they sat there. The two of them talked and talked. She explained how Bodahn pledged himself to her to pay her back for saving Sandal even after she tried to refuse him repeatedly. It was evident she was quite fond of both him and his son Sandal.

She talked about what a disaster the estate had been when they had bought it. Even after the crews had cleared it and made it livable there were still stains on the walls of both known and unknown origin. And how she was amazed when her mother had been able to get rid of them after the crews had told her they would have to live with them or cover them up.

And Leandra had furnished the estate at a dizzying speed, first the kitchen, then the bedrooms and finally the library. Hawke marveled that there were several bathing chambers in the estate. The bathing chambers had dwarven runes that allowed water to pour directly from faucets. Anders had been impressed and had decided at some point he was going to have to see it for himself.

He told her a bit about the Mage Underground. Not who they were or anything crucial, but what they were doing and how he had been helping them. She’d been excited, even more so when he admitted that was who he had come to her for help for in the past. She pledged to help however she could, especially now that she had plenty of money.

She asked him about the clinic, and he told her how it was starting to slow a bit now but still had a decent amount of patients. And after a moment’s hesitation he invited her to come back to help. She happily agreed, said it would give her something to do besides rattle around the estate all day. 

When she asked about his cracked staff he sheepishly admitted he had yet to replace it. He defended himself by telling her he couldn’t find a design he liked. She assured him Sandal would be more than happy to help enchant one, which was good news.

They both looked up when Leandra came back into the room. 

She smiled at them both, again. “Alright, the fire has been lit in that guest room you changed in. I’ve put fresh linens on the bed, so as soon as you’re ready to turn in, the room will be all set.”

Anders felt sudden panic flare in his gut, he couldn’t stay here. “Mistress Amell, thank you, but I can’t stay here.” Perhaps being a bit more formal would make her see the folly of having an essential stranger sleeping in her home.

Leandra waved her hand dismissing his protest, “Nonsense. Your clothes are soaked as are your boots. They should all be dried by morning. We would love to have you as a guest for the night.”

Anders looked to Hawke and not seeing any help there turned back to Leandra, “It would not be appropriate for a man to stay the night at the home of two unwed women.”

Leandra narrowed her eyes, pinning Anders with her gaze, “It wouldn’t be appropriate to turn away a visitor in need, now you stop worrying, young man. You just eat and get yourself warmed up.” With that she spun on her heel and left the room.

He turned to Hawke, “Hawke?”

She shrugged, “Don’t look at me, you heard the woman.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes.” He snapped.

She yawned and stretched, “Nope, I’d say it was time for bed.” She stood and walked from the room, “Night Anders.”


	25. Sweet Dreams

Anders closed the bedroom door behind him, leaning against it for support. He leaned his head back against the white painted wood and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or annoyed. Taking a deep breath he slowly opened his eyes. 

He glanced around the room again taking in the dark wood, the pale walls and the navy drapes on both the curtains and the bed. He shouldn’t be here, should have never even come inside of the estate with Hawke. He didn’t belong here in this noble house, didn’t belong…he looked to the wall separating him from Hawke and his thoughts derailed…what was it with the Hawke women? 

He couldn’t seem to say no to any of them, which was quite rather a new experience for him. He was used to women fawning over him and doing whatever he asked, not the other way around. But the Hawke women were…different. They were like the eye of a hurricane. Inside, close to them, you felt safe, felt comfortable. But when you weren’t standing there beside them your life could be ravaged by the wind of their passing. 

He brushed the thought aside, just another insane idea skittering across his disordered mind, almost lost in the cacophony of Justice’s curiosity. The spirit thrummed and buzzed under his skin making it feel too tight. He was still wound up from their experience at the docks with Hawke. Marveling at how different the storm had been in comparison to all the others the two of them had experienced together. 

And Anders could feel the spirit rifling through his memories, like shuffling papers, as he tried to find references to mothers. He wished, for Justice’s sake as well as his own, that he had more experience with mothers. The thought brought a tightness to his chest. Sweet Andraste he missed Rhoswyn. Justice perked up at the name and he echoed the word _“mother”_ in Anders mind. Anders gave a slight nod, “Yes,” an agreement, an affirmation. Blood or not Rhoswyn was his mother. 

Leandra’s kindness, her treatment, had stirred distance memories in Anders’ mind. Justice clung to the name, digging at Anders’ frayed memories. He wanted so much to understand this concept of “mother”, to understand why Leandra made Anders miss Rhoswyn. 

Anders, with all of his reading, had no words, no language to explain the relationship between child and mother in a way Justice could understand. The spirit had no frame of reference that Anders could refer to. Justice was overwhelmed by all of the events of the day and could not understand Leandra’s treatment of Anders, someone who was practically a stranger to her.

Anders took a slow deep breath to calm and center himself. Between his heart racing at Hawke’s proximity, the foolishness of being in this room and Justice’s errant thoughts he needed some clarity. He should get back to his small room in the clinic, away from Hawke and her smiles, away from Leandra’s kindness and away from all of the temptations this estate held within its stone walls. Yet, he stayed where he was.

At length, realizing he wasn’t going to do the smart thing and leave, Anders locked the door, pushed himself up straight and strode across the room to the bed. He settled on it, not surprised at all to find it was soft and inviting. It had been a long time since he’d had the luxury of a real bed. His cot was functional, but a far cry from an actual bed. 

He tried not to think about where he was, about how insane this evening had gone so far. He combed his fingers through his now dry hair, untangling the loose strands giving him a small sense of normalcy. The task completed he stood and pulled back the covers and settled himself in.

He resigned himself to staying awake so his nightmares wouldn’t wake anyone. They may be used to the sounds of Hawke’s nightmares, but he was another matter entirely. And he shouldn’t be here in the first place. Leandra had taken his clothing and boots hostage, refusing to tell him where they were, insisting he just sleep the night in the estate, like it wasn’t completely inappropriate and dangerous.

He wondered what Hawke slept in here at home? And was she wearing something different knowing he was in the room next to her? Perhaps she slept in the nude. Would she try his door? His gaze flicked to the door and a mad need to unlock it gripped him. Hawke was bold; would she be bold enough to try to seduce him in her own home? Was he strong enough to resist if she did? He quite rather thought if she were to come to him he’d crumble like dust and give her anything she wanted and then some.

He closed his eyes and tried hard to push away the thoughts of Hawke. Anders shook his head, he had always liked to play with fire, but this was a little too close for comfort. Being a grown man he should have known better than to play in the rain like a kid. If he could just make it through the night it would all be worth it, to heal the rift between him and Hawke. Shit, he was still thinking about her, there had to be something better he could concentrate on.

His head was cradled in the softness of the pillow, no doubt made of down. The sheets were soft and finely woven, probably linen and the blankets were thick and warm and incredibly soft like the one from downstairs. Leandra apparently had great taste, or at least decadent taste. Hawke didn’t seem to care for such things. In his experience, she preferred to spend her money on blades.

It felt like his whole body sighed in relief as it was enveloped in the softness of the bed. It was nicer than even his bed at the Keep had been. And despite his best intentions he felt himself drifting off to sleep in the comfort of the bed. His last thought was that a short nap, a little doze, wouldn’t hurt. He was terribly tired after all.

********

Light sleeper that she was, Sekhmet sat bolt upright in bed at the sound of Anders letting out a sound between a whimper and a shout. How loud had he been? Were the walls just thin or was something really wrong. She had to check, make sure he was alright. Surely, someone hadn’t gotten in.

The Templars wouldn’t dare, would they? Jumping to her feet she was thankful she had decided at the last moment to keep at least a little clothing on before she had fallen asleep. She grabbed her daggers and dashed to the door of his room. 

Finding the door locked she cursed and ran back to her room and grabbed her lock picks from her desk. She crouched in front of the door as a more strangled cry came from inside the room. Hands steady, even as the rest of her body thrummed in anticipation of a fight, she quickly sprang the lock.

She shoved the door open and darted inside. She scanned the room quickly, her eyes probing the dark shadows but found no intruder. Anders was on the bed alone, his body thrashing, the covers were pooled on the floor and he made another of those half strangled sounds. 

His legs were bare and she was pretty sure he was only wearing a tunic, but as much as she wanted to peek she behaved herself . Something was wrong and now wasn’t the time to sate her curiosity. Worry furrowing her brow she crossed to him and spoke softly, “Anders?”

His hand fisted in the sheet but otherwise he just groaned. When he didn’t respond she tried again, louder this time, but still there was no response. Hesitantly, she moved closer to the bed standing right beside it now, standing so close to him that she could smell him. He smelled of elfroot and mountain lake and something sharp and bitter that made her think he was afraid.

She had to wake him up, pull him out of whatever wretched nightmare he was trapped in. So, she reached out to touch his shoulder. She had a brief moment to think what a bad idea that might have been before Anders’ eyes flew open and he grabbed her arms, shoving her roughly backwards. She was so surprised at his sudden movement that she stumbled and fell onto her back as Anders followed her.

His weight crashed on top of her as he landed on her middle, crushing the air from her lungs. His skin was searing hot and sweat damp against her stomach. She gawped, mouth working fruitlessly to pull in air. His hands gripped her upper arms squeezing tight. His eyes were open and as she felt the first stirrings of his magic tingling along her skin for a moment she thought he was awake. 

But as she finally got a small lungful of air he remained crouched over her a little too still, his eyes unfocused and yet his magic was thickening in the air around them. “Anders?” Sekhmet stared at Anders unsure of what to do next; he seemed to still be locked in his nightmare. As she tried to catch a real breath and decide what to do she looked him over.

His left leg had a rather large tattoo taking up most of his thigh, some sort of geometrical design. She shifted a little under him and she felt his skin sticking to her hot and moist. She paused, surprised, Sweet Maker he wasn’t wearing any smalls, and that was his…his…on her stomach. Oh, no he had to get off her right now. If he woke up and found himself crouching over top of her like this he was going to be upset.

She suppressed a quick grin; if she had known he was sleeping mostly naked she would have snuck into his room hours ago. Anders’ fingers digging into her arms brought her attention back to the present and the almost visible cloud of magic that surrounded them. She was in some serious shit if he let loose with a spell now.

She bucked a little and tried to shake him off her, but he was so much bigger than she was he easily held her pinned beneath him. He didn’t even seem to notice her attempt to get free. She tried to buck him off again, “You know, I’ve imagined you pinning me down like this dozens of times. Clothed, not clothed, in a bed, against a wall, but you were always awake.” She let out an exasperated sigh and stopped trying to buck him clear. “Figures you’d find a way to suck the fun out of being pinned half naked under you.”

Her attention was suddenly pulled away from Anders as she heard quiet shuffling footsteps crossing the mezzanine. This could be very bad. “Mother, go back to bed, everything is alright. It was just a nightmare, I have it under control.” She didn’t want her mother to see Anders like this. And she didn’t want her to be hurt by an errant spell.

“Sekhmet?” Her mother’s voice was hesitant.

Sekhmet closed her eyes and tried to squirm away, to wiggle out from underneath the still dreaming mage. Anders’ grip tightened on her again, but this time he jerked her head and shoulders up off the floor several inches before slamming her back down. She only just managed to move her head at the last second to avoid hitting it on the floor. “Anders, wake the fuck up, please.” She hissed as her mother’s footstep shuffled closer.

Not wanting to deal with both Anders and her mother she tried to send the latter back off to bed. “Mother, I’m fine, go on back to bed now.”

Anders bent close to her, his breath falling across her skin in little puffs, still carrying the faint smell of fruit. His beautiful brown eyes were still unfocused, his soft lips mere inches from hers and she had to stifle a giggle as she briefly thought about kissing him to wake him up. It would serve him right, and maybe, just maybe he’d let passion sweep him away and they could stop paying the damn game they’d been playing since they met.

Then again, it was Anders; he’d probably be furious, yell at her and stomp out in a huff leaving her to lick her wounds again. No, it was probably better to resist the urge to nibble on the gorgeous lips of his. Instead, she tried to move her lower arms, and was relieved to find she had some freedom. 

Anders was only pinning her upper arms, even if his fingers were digging painfully into her skin. With some difficulty she was able to grasp his too thin waist with her hands. She really needed to make sure he started eating better.

Anders hovered over her for another moment, his fingers flexing again, digging even deeper into her flesh. As she worried about waking him up with as little fallout as possible she heard her mother’s shuffling footsteps as they headed away from the room. That was a relief at least.

Anders lips curled into a snarl and for a moment she thought he was sniffing her before he made a sound like a growl as he jerked her up off the floor again. Sekhmet wrapped her lower arms around his waist and locked her hands together as best as she could so when he tried to slam her back into the floor she didn’t move. She pulled herself tight against him and held herself there. Turning her face to the side and resisting the urge to nuzzle his neck. 

Prickles of magic bit into her skin from his fingers and she started to worry she might have to hurt Anders to protect herself. She really didn’t want to do that if she could avoid it. She turned her head so her lips were near his ear, “Anders, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

His body bucked violently seemingly at the sound of her voice and she struggled to hold herself tight to him. “Anders, please wake up, I don’t want to hurt you.” The words had barely left her mouth when the prickles from his fingers turned into searing pain. 

She couldn’t stop a strangled cry as her muscles jerked and convulsed, her lungs temporarily seized and her heart stuttered in her chest. The pain was unbelievable; it felt as if her whole body had been set on fire suddenly. The muscles in her arms locked tight, clenching Anders almost in a bear hug.

The pain subsided after what felt like an eon. Tears leaked from her eyes due to the pain. Ragged breaths sawed in and out as her heart returned to a steady, if rapid rhythm. She had to wake him up now, couldn’t be worried about hurting him. 

So, she released her grip around Anders and brought her fist down sharply on his lower back near his bottom rib. The pain flared bright again for a second as another wave of electricity shot through her, her mouth filled with an acrid taste, her eyes burned, her lungs seized again and her heart beat fast and funny in her chest. Her body spasmed but it was cut off quickly as Anders collapsed on top of her. 

His pretty blonde hair falling across her face as his head lay on the floor beside hers. Holding her head still took too much effort and she let it fall to the side, her head resting against his. She wanted to say something, see if he was awake, if he was alright but her tongue wouldn’t co-operate.

His long fingered hands clenched tight to her upper arms for a second and she grunted as pain flared down both arms, like someone poking at an injury. His chest was pressing against hers making it hard to breath. She wanted to try to urge him to move but everything felt so heavy.

She was relieved when he groaned and started to push himself up. As soon as he had moved a little and had finally released her arms Sekhmet struggled to wipe the tears from her eyes but her arms still didn’t want to work right, they felt oddly numb. Her body almost felt like she had way too much to drink, it just wouldn’t respond correctly.

Anders’ warm whiskey colored eyes stared dumbly down at her, “Hawke?”

She took a slow breath, her chest aching. “Are you…awake now?” Her voice was very quiet; she wasn’t sure he could even hear her. Oh, she wished her head wasn’t feeling so fuzzy.

Those soft feminine lips of his bowed down into a frown, “Yes, I think so.”

********

Anders was more than a little confused. He’d been in the Deep Roads again, trapped and alone. He remembered running down corridor after corridor trying to find a way out and each corridor had been narrower than the one before. When he was running down a long narrow alley the ceiling had started falling in chunks. 

He had been dodging them, desperately looking for someplace safe when he had suddenly tripped on something soft and sickly yielding and fallen face first onto the taint slicked floor. As he’d started to get back to his feet he found what he had tripped over. His heart had caught in his throat and he had wanted to scream and run away.

Instead, his body turned into the room from which the twisted lump had protruded from. He’d screamed when he saw it, screamed like a hysterical woman. The oversized, tentacled, bloated, and many breasted body was bad enough, but it hadn’t been what had made him scream. 

It had Bethany’s face, bloated and distorted, but there was no mistaking her sweet face. She’d glared at him for long minutes while he had screamed himself hoarse in the dream. And when he had finally fallen silent the broodmother, even now he couldn’t think of her as Bethany, had spoken.

“Look what they did to me! You let them do this. You broke your promise.” Her voice was booming in the small space.

He’d been so confused… shattered, broken and confused. “What promise?”

“You promised ‘Reyna you would never let them take a woman alive.” Her massive body shook as she bent closer to him. “You promised!”

He’d been heartbroken, he’d made many promises and vows in the Wardens and he had turned his back on all of them. “I’m sorry.” It was pathetic and not nearly enough.

“Make it right, Anders. Make it right.” She howled at the ceiling of the room they were in and chunks of the ceiling shook loose and fell at the strength of her cry.

He’d been horrified, he’d failed her, broken his promise and now she was asking him to kill her? He couldn’t do it. “I…I can’t Beth,” he whined.

A tentacle reached out and wrapped around him, cold and soft, and reeking of taint. It lifted him easily into the air, and pulled him close to her face. “You fix this Anders or I will send all of my monstrous children after you. They will hunt you down; kill everyone you care about, starting with my sister.” She spat the word sister like the very sound of it tasted bad on her tongue. 

“You can’t, she loves you.” He’d tried to reason with her.

“Look at me? What use do I have for love, for family. I’m a monster!”

He’d recoiled at the word he used so often to describe himself.

Her voice changed, softened, “Please Anders, put me out of my misery before I lose my mind completely. I can hear their whispers in my mind, they’ll be here soon. Take away their prize; let me die on my terms.”

It was Karl all over again. He couldn’t let her suffer. He stroked her tentacle gently trying to convey affection; he buried his hands into its soft flesh and squeezed, the closest approximation to a hug he could manage. “Set me down, Beth. If I fall before the deed is done I won’t be able to finish.”

A tear ran down her grotesquely distorted face. “Thank you.” She murmured as she gently set him back on the ground.

He held onto her tentacle and let his magic build up. He wanted to try to finish this with one blast of lightning if he could. They watched each other, both with sad eyes as his magic gathered in the air around them. At last he let it go and her bloated body spasmed nearly knocking him across the room. 

When he stood back up she was slumped to the side and her eyes were closed but she was still breathing raggedly. Damn it, how could she possibly be still alive after that jolt? It should have stopped her heart. He pulled hard on his magic trying to end it quickly. He didn’t want her to suffer.

Suddenly, he had felt a sharp pain, then he had been staring at a dark tiled floor. He’d taken a few moments to recognize that he wasn’t dreaming anymore and a few more to realize that there was a body pinned under him. He’d pushed himself upright and had been beyond surprised to see it was Hawke lying prone and trapped beneath him.

Mind still fuzzy, clinging to sleep at the edge Anders looked Hawke over. He couldn’t understand what she was doing here, and how she had gotten in. Her hair was loose and disheveled; her eyes looked puffy and a little red, a single track from what had probably been a tear ran from her left eye into her hairline. Letting his eyes slide further he saw that her tunic was up around her waist and she only wore pale purple smalls underneath. Her legs were bare and for some reason he was sitting astride her waist.

His thoughts were slow, mired in the traces of his nightmare and his lower back throbbed in pain. Why did his back hurt so much? Andraste’s tits this was a mess. He had no idea why Hawke was half dressed underneath him and she seemed in no hurry to speak to him. Her clear crystalline blue eyes watched him curiously, and there was something else in her eyes. He couldn’t quite wrap himself around what it was though.

He slowly realized he should probably move and get off her. An idea that was quickly put into motion when Hawke shifted a little and Anders felt the soft skin of her abdomen rub against the bare skin of his cock. He jerked off her as his prick started to stiffen. 

His heart raced and he even felt himself blush of all things when he realized that standing over her like this he was exposing himself to her. He tugged the tunic down and grabbed a blanket to wrap around himself. Yeah, he was real slick. 

His thoughts ran riot. _“Hey, I missed you Hawke, let’s be friends. Oh, but first I’m going to pin you to the floor while we’re both mostly naked for no apparent reason and then for good measure I’ll make sure you get a good look at my cock. No, really, I just want to be friends.”_ What the fuck was going on here?

He had a brief moment to wonder where the trousers he was wearing went, but vaguely remembered kicking them off when they kept getting twisted uncomfortably. He cursed himself for eschewing his smalls, even in their sodden state. He took a deep breath, calming himself as best he could, “Hawke what the Void are you doing in here?”

Hawke still lay on the floor, pale and beautiful, but something else. For some reason her body was only making small jerky movements. She finally stilled, taking a long breath and wincing before speaking in that oddly soft voice she had used when he’d first awakened. 

“I heard…you…scream,” she took another breath and continued though it seemed like it took an effort to do so. “I thought…something…was wrong,” another slow breath, “so I…came…to check…on you.” Her face contorted briefly and she blinked a couple of times before taking another slow breath. “Anders… it hurts…to breathe.”

He looked her over again, there were scorch marks and holes in the sleeves of the tunic she wore and the skin underneath looked red and angry and realized he must have shocked her. Oh, no, not again and he couldn’t even blame this assault on Justice. Dropping to his knees by her side, still wrapped in the blanket, he held his hands over her as his heart constricted in pain. “Dammit, what were you thinking coming in here half dressed.”

She gave him a weak smile, “I’m more…dressed…than you…are.”

Anders scowled; he was too scared and upset to find this funny at all. His magic coated her skin in sapphire blue light, giving it a deathly pallor as he continued healing her until she was breathing a bit easier, he had damaged a few of her muscles, she was lucky he hadn’t stopped her heart. “Stop joking, this is serious.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t see anything.” Her eyes roved over his face as she spoke.

Anders gritted his teeth, no but they had both felt something, as upset as he was his cock was still hard. And currently it was telling him how easy it would be to rip those pretty purple smalls off her and bury himself inside her. It’d be the work of seconds and he could end a year of frustration and fantasy. He ignored it and concentrated on healing her. 

He turned his attention to her arms and grabbed the edges of the hole on one of her sleeves and yanked it to make a bigger hole so he could examine how much damage he had done. She had severe burns, some of the skin an ugly black. How had she survived that kind of electricity? 

And why was his body being such a traitorous bastard. The sound of the ripping fabric had sent shivers down his spine. He’d nearly killed her, murdered his supposed friend. And his body could only think about all that bare skin and her weirdly gorgeous white hair, both skin and hair in magnificent contrast to the dark tile she lay on.

“Andraste’s tits.” He muttered as he began to carefully mend the flesh. He had almost ended her in her own home. Why had he stayed? Why had he let himself fall asleep here of all places? He could go days and days without sleep. He’d always been proud of his intellect so why was he so stupid around Hawke?

He really was a curse to this woman. At least he could fix the physical effects of what he’d done…this time. He’d make sure not to leave the smallest mark or sore muscle. It would be perfect.

“Anders?” She was frowning when he looked up to see her paler than usual face. 

Some women were sun kissed, but not his Hawke…she was moon kissed. She was…no, no mooning, ha ha, over the woman he nearly murdered. He had no right. 

“What?” He struggled not to growl at her. He was so furious with himself and his stupidity.

A slow flutter of her lashes, they were white now, the kohl that usually darkened them gone, washed away. “What were you dreaming about?” 

He thought, perhaps, he liked those pale blue eyes even more framed by the white lashes. It made them look delicate somehow. Anders shook his head; he had to stop thinking of her as a woman and remember that she was a patient.

He watched the skin re-knit itself as pale and perfect as before. He shifted and ripped open the other sleeve, more shivers shot down his spine. He turned his mind from her and to her question. The memory of Beth in the dream was like a kick to the gut, and finally his wretched erection disappeared. He couldn’t…wouldn’t tell her about his dream of Beth, so he kept it simple. “Darkspawn.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice soft again, with concern this time.

He looked at her face, surprised she would be showing concern for him, especially now of all times. “Maker’s blood, what for?”

She gave a one shouldered shrug with her healed shoulder. It pulled her tunic top to one side exposing her clavicle. “You’re upset; I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just concerned.”

His eyes focused on the newly exposed skin. So tender and pale peeking at him, demanding his attention. It was a damn shoulder, why was he fantasizing about laving his tongue across the bone. The pale skin of her neck begged to be kissed, to be marked. As he continued devouring her with his eyes he saw her pulse speed up in her neck. 

Did she know what his wayward mind was thinking? Were the possibilities of their current situation causing her blood to heat like his? He should remember Beth again; quash this desire before he did something stupid. He didn’t want to though; he wanted to feel that pulse against his tongue. 

He licked at his dry lips and saw her eyes narrow as she watched him. She was definitely thinking about the possibilities. No, this was stupid and dangerous. He wouldn’t tempt Justice to hurt her. He’d done enough of that himself tonight.

“I’m upset because I nearly killed you.” And because he desperately wanted to rip off the rest of her clothes and make love to her right there on the floor. He wanted to see that pale skin flush with desire and hear her panting in his ear as he worked her body. 

She’d scream, he knew she would, she’d be a vocal lover, and appreciative. His eyes skimmed over her again, quickly. He wanted to know the taste of her, of her lips, her skin, her sex. He wanted…oh, how he wanted.

Justice’s sudden anger at Anders’ desires sobered him. He’d have to be satisfied with wanting. Tonight was exactly why there could never be anything between them. He was dangerous, a monster. Nearly killing the only real friend he’d had since Ferelden. And in her own home no less, what a way to thank her and her mother for their kindness and hospitality.

“I’m fine.” She whispered.

This time he did growl at her, anger and frustration making his voice sharp. “And what if I hadn’t woken up? What then?”

Her nostrils flared briefly. “I defended myself! You’re probably going to want to heal yourself after me or you’ll be pissing blood for a while.” And now she was angry.

So, that was the source of the radiating pain in his lower back. She must have hit his kidney, smart girl. It oddly comforted him that she had defended herself from him. He was what…proud? Yes, definitely odd, but he was proud. Sometimes he worried she wouldn’t protect herself from him. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” All that sadness in her voice was for him?

He waived off her concern, preferring her anger. They both needed her anger now, needed to put some distance between each other before they did something even more foolish. He finally finished healing her arm. “No, I’m glad you did.”

She sat up slowly and smirked at him. “You say things like that, but then expect me to believe you aren’t looking to get roughed up as foreplay?”

“Hawke!” He practically yelled at her.

“What Anders? I don’t think a little joke is going to kill you, by any means.” She was trying to look annoyed but mostly she looked amused.

“I’m glad you defended yourself against me. Now you see why it’s too dangerous to be around me.” He settled back on his heels. He was so tired of this argument but the blasted woman never listened to him. And then they ended up in situations like tonight.

She sat up slowly and took a long, slow breath. “I’d argue with you, but I’m just too tired.”

Anders nodded, anger helped keep them apart, but he’d have to settle for resignation tonight. “I’ll get dressed and head back to Darktown. I’ll pick up my clothes in the morning and return these.”

She placed her hand on Anders’ chest; the thin tunic barely shielded them from one another. His skin lit up with the heat of her touch and the warmth spread across his chest. For a very brief moment he thought that maybe he always reacted to her so strongly because he worked so hard to keep them apart. 

Maybe if he just gave in and told Justice to shove it he could enjoy her easy affection and wouldn’t react like he was a sex starved lunatic everytime she touched him. Justice’s growl of disapproval in his head obliterated the thought. Once they were both dressed he’d get his equilibrium back.

Hawke’s voice prodded him. “You need to stay. That is unless, of course, you want to explain to my mother why you insulted her hospitality by sneaking out like a thief in the middle of the night.”

“This isn’t a game.” Anders said hotly as he stood up, still holding the blanket around him. The woman was insane. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t be anywhere near Hawke right now. He wasn’t in his right damn mind.

Hawke stood and took a step closer to him; there was fire in her eyes as she glared at him, she shook with the ferocity of her sudden anger. All the weariness was gone now replaced by a white hot rage that screamed at him from every line of her body. “No, it’s not a game Anders, it _our life_. It’s a shame you’re too damn scared to live it.” She turned and bent to pick up her daggers, affording him a great view of her purple clad ass, before stomping from the room and slamming the door behind her.

Anders sank onto the bed and closed his eyes; he could deal with being a coward if it kept her safe. 

Justice finally spoke up, _“You were wrong, she hurt you first.”_

Anders shook his head, the spirit couldn’t have been more wrong. “No, I hurt us both.”

He waited for Justice to respond, but he didn’t. The spirit had fallen blessedly silent. Anders felt weary and worn, hollowed out. With all the months he had barely seen her, he’d forgotten how exhausting his encounters with her could be. Such an emotional gamut they always seemed to run though when they were together. 

How two people who agreed on so many things always ended up in such a fury with each other was almost a mystery. It probably was a mystery to anyone who knew the two of them. He knew Hawke’s anger was born of her frustration. She knew what she wanted and it seemed simple enough to her.

Anders wasn’t so lucky though. Yes, he knew what he wanted but his two biggest desires were in direct conflict with each other. He wanted Hawke, in every way imaginable. He might have thought it was just about sex at first but he knew better now. And he might have even had that, but for Justice.

He wanted her safe as much as he wanted her. And because he wanted her safe he had to fight. He had to fight his own desires and needs. He had to fight Justice to keep her safe. And worst of all he had to fight Hawke to keep her safe. It was beyond torture.

And like a masochist, everytime there was any space between them he felt the need to fix it, to pull them back together. He was an idiot and a fool. Love struck for the first time in his life and now he wondered why he had wanted to fall in love so badly. It was such an awful torment. 

Every so often the two of them found a balance though, a few hours of smiles and teasing and Hawke’s laughter. For a few hours Anders could forget about Justice and his checkered past. For a few hours they could be close and share secrets. 

It might be only a few hours, but for those few hours Anders could find some semblance of peace. And it was those hours that he lived for, those hours that made him seek her out again and again. He was a fool.

Sighing heavily, feeling the full weight of the night pressing on him Anders turned and found the pants he had been wearing hanging loosely around the post of the bed. If he wasn’t so wiped out he might have found it funny that such an innocent looking garment could have caused so much trouble. He slipped them back on, depositing the blanket back onto the bed. 

He sat on the edge, deciding Hawke was right, he didn’t want to upset Leandra. So, he would really stay awake this time. No snuggling in the soft bed for any reason. Quietly, he waited for morning. 

********

Sekhmet tossed her daggers into the chair in the corner of her room. She felt a momentary pang of guilt at treating them so badly but brushed it aside. She was angry, furious. And as usual Anders was the cause. She hadn’t felt this kind of fury at all in the months they had pretended to be strangers and had stayed far from each other. 

She’d forgotten how hot and visceral it could be. She sat at her desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and her inkwell. She scratched the note out quickly.

__**Anders,  
I find it difficult to understand now how I could have ever enjoyed these back and forth games. This ridiculous dance we’ve been playing at for a year and a half. The novelty of chasing you has worn off, I am happy to say and I’m sure the idea pleases you to no end.  
So please, do me a big favor. Tell Justice to go fuck himself, then kindly drop dead.  
Hugs and Kisses,   
“Hawke”**

She dusted it and once she deemed it suitably dry folded it. She took special care to write his name with uncharacteristic, overly frilly loops on the front of it, then sealed it with wax. While she waited for the wax to harden she tugged on a pair of trousers and socks. She scooped up the letter and headed down the steps.

She set it on the desk knowing Bodahn would make sure Anders got it before he left. Tyr jumped up from beside the fire and followed her to the foyer where she pulled on her boots. She grabbed a couple of knives and strapped them to her forearms before leaving the estate.

She went round the corner and slipped into the Blooming Rose, grateful that they never closed. Smiling insincerely at Madam Lusine’s not so subtle glare, she ordered herself a bottle of expensive wine and sat to people watch, Tyr lying at her feet. She knew she wouldn’t be getting back to sleep and had no desire to see Anders before he left in the morning, if he even bothered to stay. 

Of course her mother would be upset, but she should be used to Sekhmet disappointing her by now.


	26. Skipping Stones

Sekhmet wiped tears away from her eyes. Her chest hurt from laughing so hard. Izzy had challenged her to a race, and yes, alright in retrospect it had been a stupid idea inside this damn cave with all its blind corners and turns. Not to mention traps that had been meant to keep people like her and Isabela out, but she had been desperate for a bit of fun. 

Izzy had, as usual, cheated, tripping Sekhmet before taking off at a run. Seeing the pirate queen now though made her own rather ungraceful fall worth it. Not even a quick scan of the room, which showed absolutely nothing to loot left, dampened her mood. She leaned against the wall to watch Isabela’s struggles. 

Izzy snarled as she climbed out of the mud, “Glad you’re enjoying yourself, Hawke.”

“Most fun I’ve had in ages.” And what wasn’t to enjoy, Isabela flailing in the mud was fun to watch and perfect retribution for her earlier treachery.

Isabela stood up and started cleaning off as much mud as she could. “That’s terribly sad. You should really let me help with that.”

It was an offer the woman had made dozens of times before over the months since Sekhmet had cut all ties with Anders. And though Izzy was an attractive enough woman, Sekhmet just wasn’t ready. Her heart hadn’t gotten the message that Anders was persona non grata. It still longed for him, for his voice and his smile, for his wit, his long elegant fingers, his graceful way of moving, and his…Stupid heart always dragging her thoughts back to him. 

She decided to rib Isabela a little; she was always ready enough to tease Sekhmet. She smirked, “I’m trying to avoid Anders, remember?”

Isabela narrowed her eyes in mock anger and scowled, “Bitch.”

Sekhmet laughed, she did that a lot with Isabela. “But at least I’m a clean bitch.”

Isabela sighed, “Did you at least find anything while I was trying to get out? Thanks for the help by the way.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s already been picked clean.”

“Andraste’s tits, here I am covered from head to toe in mud and there’s no treasure and,” she looked to Sekhmet with a smirk, “no consolation prize.”

Sekhmet gave a little shrug. “Well if it makes you feel better I hear mud is really great for your skin.”

“And I did win the race.” Izzy added with a grin.

Sekhmet chuckled, “That you did. Come on, let’s get out of here. You can jump into the sea near camp and get cleaned up.”

Izzy sighed and looked at herself in disgust, “Alright, let’s go.”

As soon as they reached the water Sekhmet started pulling her own clothes off. She was looking forward to a swim herself. She was hot and sticky and dirty, though nothing compared to the mud laden pirate. A swim sounded like a brilliant idea.

She ignored Isabela’s wolf whistle before she dove into the water nude. All of Isabela’s attention had bothered her at first. But she had eventually realized Isabela was a lot like her, or at least a lot like she used to be. And she had found a freedom in spending time with her.

Isabela always had a line on something. They were forever chasing after some supposed treasure or “redistributing wealth” as Izzy called it. Sekhmet did her best to keep Bethany in her thoughts, to stay true to what Beth would have wanted. Isabela made it hard though. She made everything seem so effortless and fun that sometimes it was easy to forget people could get hurt.

The two of them squabbled a lot, mostly about where to draw the line in their little adventures and Isabela often left in a huff. She always came back though. Sekhmet thought perhaps the pirate queen needed a distraction as much as she did.

******** 

Anders lay on his cot, his arm folded under his head as he stared at the ceiling. Trying not to think about Hawke was becoming increasingly difficult. And Justice was just making it worse. The spirit had taken umbrage at her crass, if brief, missive.

At first Justice had wanted to strike back at her for her words. It had lasted for almost five months. Apparently, it had taken the spirit some time to notice Hawke was no longer in their life. When he did realize it though, he had reacted rather strangely.

He had pushed Anders to find her quit insistently. When Anders had steadfastly refused he’d taken matters into his own hands. He’d gone looking for her, first at her estate then at the Hanged Man. Poor Varric had only just managed to get him out of the tavern unscathed by the terrified and drunken patrons.

The dwarf had finally convinced Justice to return control to Anders by promising he would try to convince Hawke to go to him. Varric likely had no intention of convincing Hawke of anything but it worked to soothe Justice. As the weeks stretched out and Hawke never returned to the clinic Justice became restless again.

He began plaguing Anders with questions. And didn’t it figure? After the woman was gone from his life Justice became curious about her. Wanted to know why Anders had such strong feelings about her. Wanted to know why she had suddenly cut off all contact with them when she never had before. Justice dug around in Anders’ head, poking at all the bruises Hawke had left behind. 

At night, when Anders was at his lowest, missing his friend, missing Hawke, Justice would pick at his thoughts like a child with a scab giving Anders a headache. He wanted Anders to name everything he was feeling. He demanded to know why he could feel it too, as if Anders had an answer. 

He even demanded that Anders stop missing Hawke immediately as if it was something he could turn on and off. Eventually, he’d snap that he never liked her anyways before falling silent. Leaving Anders wondering exactly when it was that Justice had become such a petulant child. 

During the day Justice was impatient, trying to rush Anders through his patients so he would close the clinic and head off to help the underground. The spirit had even lost interest in the manifesto Anders had been trying to write. In truth, Anders hadn’t touched it since he had last seen Hawke. It somehow seemed unimportant and pointless now.

He turned to his side, Maker he missed her. Eight bloody months and he hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of her. Not that he was trying exactly, but he knew she was still in Kirkwall, and they had mutual acquaintances. How did she manage to steer clear of him so well? 

He knew though, he rarely strayed from Darktown. And on those occasions he did, her friends would be sure to let her know to steer clear. In order for it to have been so long without even a glimpse she had to not only be staying away from him, but actively avoiding him. 

He couldn’t bring himself to head back to her estate. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they thought of him after Justice had made his appearances and had belligerently demanded to see her. They were likely afraid of him. Now that he thought about it, he was damned lucky they hadn’t called the Templars down on him and Justice.

Was it wrong that he hoped Hawke was behind that? That she had still cared about him enough to not want to see him taken by those metal clad morons? He snorted, grasping at straws, was that what it had come to? 

How could he not miss her though? She’d brought his most favorite thoughts from the past and hopes for the future to the fore. The way he felt when he was with her, the jokes and the smiles reminded him of days at the Keep in Amaranthine. Of those few bright shining moments he had where he had felt safe and happy and not alone. 

And with her at his side he felt he could do anything. There was nothing beyond their scope, nothing beyond their grasp. She really made him believe they could change the world.

She made him feel like he was still a man, like he still had a chance for some sort of happiness. But she made him forget. A few minutes with her and it was easy to forget that he was a monster, that he could turn on her at any moment and put her and anyone else in the vicinity in danger. And it was that forgetting that had nearly killed her in her own home.

He closed his eyes and begged sleep to claim him.

********

Her blade whirled around her in a high arc, her body following it through adding her weight to the blow. Sunlight glinted off her blade as she spun, a decapitating blow against an invisible foe. 

“Gorgeous.” Fenris’ eyes shot wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth in obvious surprise.

Sekhmet chuckled, “It’s alright Fenris. I appreciate it.” 

“Forgive me, sometimes the way you move is,” he cocked his head to the side as if searching for the right word, “beautiful. I know that perhaps sounds odd when we are speaking of fighting but I don’t know another word for it.”

Sekhmet pushed a few stray hairs off her face and smiled. “My father used to say that fighting was a lot like dancing.”

Fenris nodded, “I wouldn’t know. But you are graceful.”

Her eyes lit up, “You must let me teach you. Please, Fenris. You let me come here day after day and let me sharpen my skills against you. Let me do something for you.”

Fenris shook his head, “You come here because you need a challenge and Isabela spends more time trying to get you into bed then actually training with you.”

Sekhmet smirked, “Are you sure I don’t just come here to see that great ass of yours in those leggings?”

Fenris snorted, “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want a blush out of me, Hawke. Being around you nearly every day is making me immune to your so called charms.”

She took a step closer, “I could always lick your ear again.” She grinned in triumph when Fenris visibly shivered at the memory. It had been quite funny for her at the time, but Fenris had been beyond embarrassed, at least at first.

They’d been grappling, him teaching her how to defeat a bigger enemy if she was unarmed. And honestly, weren’t all of her enemies bigger than her? At any rate, he’d pinned her arms to her sides and was explaining ways she could get out of it when she’d had the mad impulse to lick his ear. And of course, being who she was, she couldn’t help herself.

She stood up on her toes, leaned forward and licked his ear all the way to the tip. Fenris had gasped, his arms tightening almost painfully around her and had gotten an instant erection. He’d been frozen for a moment, stopped midsentence, eyes wide and for the briefest moment she’d wondered if she’d given the poor man a stroke. But as quickly as he had locked up he had shoved her away cursing in Arcanum.

“Oooh, Fen that was too delicious.” She’d cooed in delight.

Fenris had been less than pleased. “Is it impossible for you to behave yourself? Do you have no self control?”

“Hey, you were the one poking me in the stomach with your…sword.” She pointed out. She’d known it was her fault, and when she thought about it she had a vague recollection of someone telling her an elf’s ears were very sensitive and tended to arouse them when they were stroked or licked. Which had given her a minute’s pause, had she done it on purpose?

Fenris backed away from her again and she hadn’t been able to help herself. After all the leggings he wore were practically painted onto him. So, she snuck a peek. Damn the elf was packing! Or perhaps it had just been too long since she’d seen one and they all looked big now. She’d quickly quashed the depressing thought and enjoyed the view.

He’d caught her of course and, surprisingly, made no effort to hide himself. His lip twitched into an amused smirk. “I apologize, Hawke. I keep forgetting you’re going through a bit of a drought.”

She’d crinkled her nose up, flashing a look between a scowl and a pout. “It’s your damn fault!”

His lips had curled more; the man certainly had a fantastic smile. “It’s my fault you sent your pet mage packing?”

“No, it’s your fault other men won’t come within a hundred feet of me.”

Fenris’ smile had fallen into a distasteful grimace. “They’re unworthy of you, drunken fools and cowards.” His eyes had flicked away for a moment. “Let Isabela find her unsavory fun with them.” He turned back to face her, “If something as simple as a scowl is going to keep them away, they don’t deserve you.”

She’d been surprised, “Deserve me? It’s just a little sex, Fenris.”

A muscle had twitched along his jaw. “Then go to the Rose, you can afford it.”

There had been a pause, a space of silence. She hadn’t known what to say, hadn’t exactly understood what bothered him about the tavern’s patrons so much. She and Fenris weren’t exactly friends. They trained together and occasionally ran into each other at the Hanged Man, nothing more.

At length, Fenris had given a heavy sigh before flashing her a half assed smile, “Now that the sword, as you called it, is re-sheathed can we continue training?”

She had appreciated his attempt at humor. The two of them had been getting along much better since she’d ejected Anders from her life. So, she had tried to reciprocate the humor a bit. “Only if it means you’ll restrain me again, I liked that.”

He’d bowed, mock nobility, before giving her a cheeky smile. “We aim to please.” And that had been that, episode over.

Even now though, the memory was apparently enough to make him blush, and he did it so prettily too. He sighed as if he was exasperated but the tiniest hint of a smile played about his lips. She wished the others had a chance to see him like this: calm, smiling and teasing. Nothing like the broody elf they were used to.

“Try it and I’ll make you train with Isabela for a week.”

Sekhmet pouted, “Hmmm, you’re no fun.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps not, but I put up with you.”

Which made Sekhmet giggle, “And I do so appreciate it. So, about the dancing?”

The humor dissipated from his eyes, “I’ve no need of dancing lessons. Stop trying to make this more that it is, Hawke.”

Oh, he thought she was making a real pass at him. That could be awkward for both of them. “No, I wasn’t…I mean; I just thought you might like to learn to dance, an even trade, nothing more. I love to dance.”

He watched her carefully, measuring her honestly. And he was one of the few that actually could. When he had discerned she was telling the truth he gave a faint nod, “Perhaps. Who knows, after raiding the wine cellar again, I might even enjoy it. For now, put away the blades, I would talk with you.”

An uneasy feeling settled into her stomach as she slipped her daggers back into her sheath. “I thought we were talking.”

Fenris gestured to a chair and she sat, waiting patiently as he sat across from her. Those too beautiful eyes of his studied her again. “Hawke, why do you really come here so often?”

“I come to train with you.” What ulterior motive did he think she had?

He shook his head. “You’re faster than I am, you don’t need to train with me.”

“If I only trained with people faster than me, I would never have anyone to train with.” She shifted in the chair, reminding herself not to get angry, he was just curious.

“You know I don’t like games.” His voice turned frosty.

“I know.” She pushed her fingers back through her hair as she spoke. Her voice was soft, because she was unsure herself why she had sought him out to train with. Aveline would have likely let her train with the guard. Isabela might have enjoyed sharpening her skills against someone who would actually be a challenge to her. 

The idea of training with Aveline was distasteful, and it would likely cause trouble for the guard Captain. She opened her mouth to tell him as much. “Aveline…”

He waived her off, “No, I don’t care about her. Why me and not Isabela? Would she not be a more logical choice? And why so often? Clearly, you have no need to train everyday.”

She shrugged, “I get enough of Isabela when I help her out. I had no desire to see her more.”

There was a pause. He was waiting for her to go on, but she didn’t know what to tell him. There were plenty of reasons. But what kind of reasons do you share with a man who was as closed as Fenris. Yes, he had relaxed enough to enjoy some banter with her, but his life was a mystery to her. Did she feel comfortable sharing her life with him?

Perhaps one of them had to make the first move. At least she knew whatever she shared would remain between the two of them. It was absurd that sharing things about her life were easier with Varric, who had no qualms about telling others about her affairs, or even putting them into print to entertain the masses.

She took a deep breath, “Promise you won’t laugh?”

He nodded solemnly, like she knew he would. He took promises and vows very seriously. 

“You, because your fighting style and abilities are different from anything I’ve ever seen.” And in a way it made her miss Carver less, not that he needed to know that. “I’m here almost everyday, because for the last year my mother has been trying desperately to turn me into a lady and I need to get the Void out of the house. I went to the Rose at first but realized after a few months that I would end up going broke trying to drink myself to oblivion in there. So you’re saving my health and my wealth.” It was the truth, to a point. And he didn’t need to know anymore than that. She’d answered his question.

“So this has nothing to do with you needing someone to replace Anders?”

The name was like taking a match to oil. She stood up anger singing through her veins. “What? It’s been a year and a half since I’ve even seen him and you think this is about him? What the fuck Fenris.” She shoved her chair backwards, fury sweeping over her. “Not everything in the damned world is about mages.” She spun ready to leave. She didn’t need to deal with this shit today. Fenris could fight his demons without her.

She felt Fenris’ hand wrap around her upper arm. “Alright, calm down. I apologize. I just didn’t want you looking for something I couldn’t give you.”

She paused long enough to look at him. “I’ve always been open and honest about what I wanted with you. Always.” She jerked her arm out of his grip and stormed off. 

********

Anders glanced up at the sound of footsteps towards him, he waited in the dark until the person moved closer and he could feel the mage’s magic. “Hello?” he ventured cautiously.

A tripped step and a barely restrained curse was enough for Anders to feel comfortable enough to call forth a small wisp. This elicited a gasp followed by a high pitched giggle. “Anders?”

Anders furrowed his brow, the voice was vaguely familiar but as the little elven woman came into his view he couldn’t place her. She must have seen his confusion because she laughed again, a bit quieter this time.

“So the infamous escape artist of Kinloch Hold finally managed to stay free and is now freeing other mages.”

Anders was quiet, being recognized was never a good thing for him.

“It’s alright Anders, I’m grateful that you’re helping me. Besides, it would be a shame to deprive the world at large of a man with _talents_ like yours.”

Anders cringed, of course it wasn’t just someone who knew him from the Ferelden Circle but someone he had been intimate with. “We should go; it’s not safe to stay here.”

The woman nodded, “Lead the way.”

Anders turned to lead the woman from the tunnels; he wanted to get her to the ship and out of Kirkwall as soon as possible. “The ship is in the port only for about another hour, we need to hurry.”

“Ship? No one said anything about a ship. Where are you sending me? I want to get back to Ferelden.”

Anders paused and turned back to her,”You can’t go back to Ferelden, you’re a known mage there.”

“I appreciate you helping me out of this prison Anders, but I’m not like you. I liked the Circle in Ferelden.”

“So you want to go from one prison to another? And you think Gregoir would just let you back?”

“Irving will convince him to let me come back.”

“Why, why go back when you can be free?” Anders felt his agitation rising.

The elven woman stopped dead in her tracks, when she spoke again her voice was clipped in clear anger. “Not everyone’s life before the Circle was a bundle of sunshine like yours. Do you know what they did to me when they realized I had magic Anders? They tied me to a post in the stable with my hands wrenched up behind my back and a gag so I couldn’t speak. 

The neighborhood children came in and threw rocks and dung at me. I cried for days just hoping someone would help me. Every time an adult came in I hoped they would set me free but they never did. Even the woman that gave me food and water was horrible, she told me they should just let me die and to be honest I really wanted to die by that point. When the Templars arrived I was so relieved that they were taking me away from there that I hugged the Templar who untied me and I wouldn’t let go. He sat down in the stable and talked to me for almost an hour to get me calm enough to let him go.”

“And your life in the Circle, trapped in that building your whole life it was worth it?”

“I never said it was perfect Anders, but I never feared for my life there and I never had to worry about the type of cruelty I faced in my hometown. The worst thing I’ve ever had to fear in the Circle in Ferelden was a broken heart.”

Anders groaned, “I remember you now.” Anders had to hold in his derision, he should have remembered her sooner. Alti had been Gregoir’s little pet, the little elf girl Gregoir had fawned all over as long as anyone in the Circle could remember. Gregoir had hovered over her like an over protective hawk, which had been the reason Anders had seduced the young girl. She had barely been a challenge.

Keeping Gregoir from finding out until after he had finished with the girl had been the difficult part. She’d been giddy to have Anders attention focused on her though, and the illicitness of sneaking off to see him had only made her more excited. She had been a clever girl, easily slipping her guards and coming up with excuses to deflect Gregoir’s attention. At least until it was too late.

Anders had claimed her maidenhood, had spent hours bringing her pleasure. He had even let her fall asleep on his chest practically purring in contentment. By the time the sun had peeked into the window Anders was long gone. And he’d been so dreadfully cruel to her. Something he’d never done to any of the others he’d bedded.

He’d avoided her, hadn’t exchanged even another word with her. She cried for weeks, and the other mages laughed at her. Hadn’t they all warned her about Anders after all? She’d written him letter after letter, none of which he read. And as much as he wanted to tell the other mages to leave her alone he’d kept his mouth shut.

Predictably, when she couldn’t reach him, couldn’t turn his heart to her she’d gone running to Gregoir. The Knight Commander had gone ballistic, screaming at her loud enough for it to reverberate down the halls of the Tower. Calling her stupid and doe eyed, as well as a dozen other choice phrases before telling her she deserved it for letting Anders talk himself under her robes.

Not that it saved Anders. Gregoir had pulled Anders from his bed in the middle of the night and locked him in the dungeon. Gregoir stood outside the cell’s open door, helmet tucked under his arm, a muscle ticking along his jaw. He’d glared down at Anders, lying bruised on the floor. The Templars had been less than gentle dragging him down into the tower’s depths.

His eyes were flinty, “Did you hurt that girl just to get at me?”

Anders had remained silent.

Gregoir kicked at Anders bare feet, “I asked you a question mage.”

Torn between shame, amusement and anger Anders had pushed to his feet, towering over Gregoir. Glaring down at the Knight Commander despite his slender size, but kept his silence. The knight Captain stared back into his eyes for a long time, neither flinching. Anders saw another spark of anger light itself in Gregoir’s eyes before he backhanded Anders, hitting him hard enough to knock him down.

“Don’t play games with me, boy.” He spat.

Anders, lip bleeding and cheek already swelling had looked up at him with a defiant grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it Commander.”

Gregoir snarled at him, lip curling up in his rage and his hands clenching into fists. For a moment Anders had thought the Templar would hit him again. Instead, he slammed the cell door shut and left the dungeon quickly. Anders had languished away in the dark for nearly a week before the First Enchanter had swept down into the dungeon, Gregoir on his heels.

“You can’t lock up the mages just because they hurt someone’s feeling Gregoir. What’s the matter with you? And you should have told me where he was. I thought he had run off again. This is simply unacceptable.” His robes dragged on the floor collecting filth from the unkempt floor.

Gregoir walked with heavy steps behind him. Face like granite and eyes like ice. He didn’t respond to anything Irving said. When they stopped in front of his cell Gregoir unlocked his door and turned away, leaving without a word or waiting for them to follow him out.

Irving had helped Anders to his feet and led him out of the cell, “I’m sorry it took me so long to find where you were. You do like riling the Knight Commander don’t you. A terrible habit, you’ll just make things more difficult on the rest of us with your little stunts.”

Anders didn’t respond. A white hot anger had been burning in his gut for days. The Templars didn’t touch him, but they hadn’t been particularly hospitable. Dumping his food onto the dirty floor and throwing his water in his face more often than not. 

In the light of the upper floors the Templars hid in their armor, face shielded by their helmets. But in the dark of the lower floors they didn’t need to hide their cruelty. It was a lesson Anders would never forget. And that trip was to be just the first of many trips into the dark of the dungeon, each trip less pleasant than the one before. The Templars didn’t keep their hands to themselves for long.

Alti’s voice prompted him out of his disquieting reverie, “Ah, so now that you remember who I am you aren’t going to talk to me anymore?”

His voice was sharp, and cold, “There’s nothing to say. I’m here to make sure you make it to the ship and I will.”

“And if I don’t want to go?” She asked, her voice taking on its own edge.

“I’ll lead you back to the Gallows now. You’ll die in Kirkwall, as simple as that. Take the ship; you can make your way back to Ferelden once you’re free from Kirkwall, if that’s what you wish.” He sped up his steps.

“It seems I don’t have much choice.” Her misery was in each word.

Anders didn’t much care. The world had heaped too much shit on him for him to be a bleeding heart to every mistake from his past. Perhaps Justice was making him cold and bitter, he didn’t much care honestly. He’d get this job done and move on with his life, one foot in front of the other, no end in sight.

He led her out of the dark and to the docks, barely noticing the difference. He’d just crested the stairs when he saw the flash of white hair whipping in the wind in his peripheral vision. His heart jumped and stuttered to a stop in his chest. Could it be? He turned, wanting a better look. And there she was, as small and as beautiful as he remembered. His heart took off racing.

“Who is she?” Alti asked at his elbow.

Desperately, he tried to peel his eyes away from her and couldn’t. It was like every cell in his body was screaming for her. Had it really been two and a half years since he’d seen her? It felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like a heartbeat ago. Even Justice was standing to attention just below the surface, curious and waiting. “It doesn’t matter.” He said as calmly as he could manage while his whole being was ripping itself apart at the sight of her.

“A woman that can stop you dead in your tracks and you say she doesn’t matter? My ass, Anders. Who is she?” She was standing to close to him, her voice sharp in his ear as she spoke.

He finally tore his gaze away from Hawke, who hadn’t seen him blessedly, and turned his gait towards the ship. Thankfully, in the opposite direction from where Hawke stood, Isabela at her side with the sea as an unworthy background. He just wanted to get Alti to the ship and get back into Darktown, quickly. He’d never been so grateful for his long legs and his quick strides. It was bad enough seeing her; he didn’t want to actually run into Hawke.

Alti’s steps clicked loudly behind him. “Sweet Andraste, she broke your heart didn’t she? Oh, I want to meet her.”

Anders kept walking ignoring the annoying little mage. He would keep his mouth shut; take the girl’s venom with as good grace as he could muster. After all, he deserved it, didn’t he, for what he had put her though all those years ago?

“At least tell me her name.” She was breathless trying to keep up with him.

“Hawke.” He snapped, grateful they were nearly to the ship.

Alti’s steps stopped behind him. “As in _the_ Hawke?”

He paused and turned to look at her finally. “You know who she is?”

Alti nodded, “Everyone knows who she is. Hawke braved the Deep Roads seeking her fortune. She returned with her friend the dwarf, her apostate lover and her fortune but lost her sister along the way.” As she finished speaking her eyes went wide, with sudden realization. “You’re the apostate lover?”

He scowled; he hadn’t been her lover, no matter how much he wished he could have been. “No. We need to get you on the ship now. Come on, let’s go.” He headed back towards where the ship was docked. Hoping that was the end of the conversation.

“That look you gave her was pure heartache. Trust me; I know what it looks like.” Her voice was softer now, kinder.

Anders kept his own council until they reached the ship. He spoke briefly with the captain before heading back to the docks. He paused when he heard his name called, not sure he wanted to hear what else she said. He looked up and saw Alti leaning over the rail giving him a cheeky smile.

“Go find her, tell her.”

He nodded, having absolutely no intentions of doing so. He’d disappear back into Darktown and try to forget he had seen her at all. 

“I can wait to tell everyone at Kinloch Hold that amorous Anders had his heart stolen for once. And by a famous Ferelden refuge no less!” She giggled, the sound of it trailing behind her as she left the railing and disappeared from sight.

Anders scurried back into the safety of Darktown, leaving the light and Hawke behind in a world he clearly no longer belonged to.


	27. Found Betwixt

“Hurry up, hurry up. Don’t keep the Viscount waiting.” Her mother was practically pushing her out of the house.

The summons had come while she was still asleep, a luxury she rarely got to enjoy. Her mother’s piercing calls had shattered her slumber pulling her wretchedly into the now. She pulled on her clothing quickly to see what her mother was harping about and had to fight the urge to roll her eyes when she learned it was a summons from the Viscount.

And how her mother had fussed when Sekhmet stopped to pull on her armor. Maybe her mother didn’t see the necessity, but Sekhmet would rather be overdressed than caught unaware. She knew she had a reputation for being a bit of a nuisance and wasn’t going to just parade herself into the Viscount’s Keep and into a jail cell.

Inside the Keep it was loud, voices echoing all seeming to say the same things. She made her way up the stairs to the Viscount’s door and was surprised to find it open. The Seneschal was speaking as she approached and though he didn’t stop speaking as she strolled in he did give her a distasteful look. Apparently, his opinion of her hadn’t improved over the years. It was no matter, she didn’t need him to think well of her. She had her ace in the pocket where he was concerned.

The Viscount was looking particularly haggard, deep dark circle under his eyes and he’d lost a few pounds since she’d last caught sight of him. He ran his fingers over his bald head, pacing as he pontificated over the latest crisis to touch Kirkwall.

“These Qunari, they sit like gargoyles, waiting for Maker knows what, and everyone goes mad around them. Nearly four years I’ve stood between fanatics,” He stopped pacing his eyes falling onto a couple pieces of parchment resting on his desk, “And now, this.”

Slowly, the Viscount’s gaze rose from the parchment until he was looking at her. He showed no surprise, so clearly he had noticed her entrance. He didn’t immediately speak however, and Bran was just glaring at her, resenting her presence. 

She waited another beat before speaking, “Well, don’t keep us in suspense.”

Bran narrowed his gaze for a moment before turning his attention back to the Viscount. The Viscount squared his jaw as if tensing for an argument before very deliberately crossing his arms over his chest. Bran shifted, obviously uncomfortable with whatever was coming.

“Leave us,” a brief, almost curt order from the Viscount.

Bran turned on his heel, careful not to look at Sekhmet before he strode from the room. But Sekhmet’s attention was on the Viscount who had closed his eyes and sighed heavily. The weight of all the tensions within the city was obviously putting a great deal of strain on him. She spent a moment feeling bad for the poor man.

The man began speaking, head bowed and eyes still closed. “Meredith at my throat, Orsino at my heels and a city scared of heretical giants.” At last his head rose again and he opened his eyes.

She wondered if many people had seen him like this, so clearly drained and exhausted. So on the verge of snapping or collapsing. She hoped not. Even though he was often weak and pliant when it came to the Templars he still did a fairly decent job ruling the rest of the city.

He didn’t turn to face her yet, still talking but not acknowledging her directly as if it was his way to hold control of the conversation. “Balance is held because the Qunari ask for nothing. Even the space in Lowtown was a gift, to contain them.” He unfolded his arms slowly, at long last turning to face her.

“But now,” he began to walk towards her, his face resolved. “The Arishok has requested you.”

She’d been so wrapped up in his odd power play that the statement totally surprised her. She held her face still, resisting the urge to scowl. What could they possibly want with her?

“By name,” he continued. “What did you do?” And the tone of his voice, as well as the words, was an all too familiar accusation. 

She bristled at it. Everyone she knew, with the exception of Isabela perhaps, had used that statement when talking to her at one point or another. She flashed him a little smirk, working to take some of the control of the conversation back into her hands. The man was going to make a demand of her. 

She didn’t take well to demands though. No, she’d make it a favor, one he’d end up repaying sooner or later. Feeling better about her position in the conversation she flashed him a smirk. “I can’t help it, if I make an impression.”

He was having none of her humor. “Apparently, not,” he snapped. He turned away from her again, his voice calmer, more even tempered now. “I remember how you helped my son.” Was this his way of buttering her up? “It seems you are meant to have influence above your station.” If so he was going about it completely the wrong way.

Above her bloody station? What did he know about it? He knew nothing about her, where she came from, what she’d been through. He’d been given his position by others. He hadn’t had to fight for it tooth and nail, to sacrifice family and love, blood and sweat, to get there. Pompous arrogant bastard.

And still he spoke, making his demands now. “Speak to the Arishok, give him what he needs to keep the peace.” He strolled towards her again, more relaxed, more sure of his position. “Can you do that for Kirkwall, serrah Hawke.” As if insinuating she was incompetent or maybe challenging her to say no?

She made sure to point out to him that he owed her, and she was more than capable of handling his problems when he couldn’t. “And your son, Seamus, how has he made do over the years?”

His eyes got a far off look, “He is his own man, but your actions tempered him somewhat. He’s not so angry at the world.” And wasn’t that funny, because Sekhmet was more angry at the world now, not less. He bowed his head, his voice becoming more quiet as if he were ashamed or embarrassed of what he was about to say. “I thank you for that.” Another brief pause, every word out of the man’s mouth was calculated precisely. It would be a mistake to underestimate this man and assume he was just Meredith’s puppet.

“I may not agree with him on many things.” The viscount smiled a little, “But, I am proud of what he is becoming.”

On that she agreed. She’d not run personally into Seamus since her supposed rescue of him but she heard the nobles grumbling about or praising him often enough. The boy stood his ground, and was articulate about his desires and the changes he felt the city needed. 

Still, she wasn’t ready to agree just yet. The Viscount had stirred her anger and it wasn’t as easy to soothe her as it had once been. She steered the conversation back to the Qunari. “Why is this of such importance now? Obviously, there is a lot of bias and hatred towards them, but there hasn’t been any major incidents or even protests in years.”

And the Viscount was off again, pontificating. “Zealots are bravest where their lies can’t be argued.” His voice became bitter. “Behind closed doors. Chantry leaders see the Qunari presence as a challenge, not an attack, but the message gets muddled amongst casual adherents.” The bitterness had trickled away as he spoke of the Chantry. “I’m certainly not equipped to argue the fine points of faith.” Which still didn’t explain why he was so worried now.

“The Qunari usually arrive as conquerors, odd that this has gone on so long.”

“Very,” he agreed readily enough, “and I have no interest in antagonizing them. That is partially why I suffer being a messenger today.” 

A little snort of amusement escaped her. 

He ignored her outburst and carried on, “A treaty exists and it has been honored. Although,” he let the word trail off.

She cocked her head, intrigued now, “You have doubts?”

Another long pause from him, his face was very grave when he finally did speak again. “They claim they’re waiting for a second ship. But it has been three years, they want something else.”

Was he considering trying to find a way to force them out? “Sounds like you’d be better off without this headache.”

He gave a quick shake of his hands, even raising his hands as if to ward off an attack. “They will not leave and we don’t,” he turned bracing his arms on his desk, the weight of it seeming to overwhelm him again. “Have the resources to force the issue.” He raised his head a bit, voice filled with regret, “At least not in a way that would leave the city intact.” He backed away from the desk, his little drama over. “If they had come to conquer, I suspect they would have done so.”

The man should really take to the stage, he’d be a smash. She had no idea how much of his mood swings were real and which were fabricated to bear weight to his words.

Kirkwall was her home now, as much as anyplace and she had no particular desire to see it torn apart. “Any idea what they might want?”

“None.” He sighed, crossing his arms defensively again. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve heard two direct words from the Arishok other than his rather deliberate phrasing of ‘Be gone’.” He tried a different tack with her, “If you think his asking me to notify you of this is strange,” he dropped his arms and gave a small shrug, “well, you would be right.”

“I suppose if you can be a messenger to a refugee than the least I can do is go talk to the Arishok. So, sure, I’m always willing to help.” She gave him a bit of a smile, as fabricated as half of his moods.

He relaxed marginally, “That is an attitude this city has lacked for a long time.” If he noticed her insincerity he ignored it and moved back into orders. “Appease the Arishok, take his demand and let him return to dormancy.” His eyes flitted away, “As awkward as this has been it is better than the alternative.”

She gave a brief nod and left, more than happy to be done with the Viscount. She ran briefly into Seamus on her way down the steps. She flashed him a smile and even enjoyed a brief conversation with him. Feeling a little lighter after her encounter she stopped into say hello to Aveline.

The conversation was brief, the Guard Captain distracted with taking care of her guards as well as smoothing the feathers Sekhmet’s good fortune had apparently ruffled. They could all go take a long walk off a short pier if they didn’t like her getting ahead. Aveline had sighed and shook her head, telling Sekhmet she was joking, but Sekhmet wasn’t so sure.

She left before they quarreled again. Seemed they mostly argued, Aveline too wrapped up in what was law, and Sekhmet more interested in fun. Not to mention whenever a Templar disappeared Aveline would come knocking on her door making indiscreet inquiries. And the Templar’s weren’t even any of Aveline’s business.

She’d barely cleared the Keep’s door when Bodahn came running up to her out of breath. He gave her the last of the proceeds from their trip into the Deep Roads and delivered a message from her mother. Seemed that after practically pushing her out the door this morning, now her mother wanted to see her.

Dutiful daughter she tried to pretend to be she went directly home to see what her mother needed. She couldn’t find her right away so she headed to her room to take off her armor. Once she was more comfortable she went back to looking for her mother. 

As for her mother, she was just lonely and wanted to thank her again for buying back the estate. She spoke with her mother for a few minutes, reminiscing and keeping her mother happy. But beat a hasty retreat at the mention of her mother finding a husband for her. 

She headed to Fenris’ mansion. The two of them had never completely recovered from her blow up at him, he was much more cautious around her and she was always waiting for him to start accusing her of using him as a replacement for Anders again. They had stopped training together, but still ran into each other at the Hanged Man and on occasion she popped in to see how he was.

She walked in and hustled up the steps into the room where he spent most of his time, still. He eyed her warily as she walked into the room, setting down his wine bottle and standing up. She scanned the room taking in the wine bottles and trying to determine how drunk he might be.

It looked like it was early enough in the day where the bottle he had been drinking from was still his first. Sober as a church mouse then. It took quite a lot of wine to get Fenris tipsy. She gave him a brief nod and stopped a few feet in front of him.

“Are you busy today?” Right to the point was probably best.

His eyes narrowed, “What do you want, Hawke? I’m not interested in another of your lectures.”

“I need a favor.” What she really needed was a real friend or two, not just acquaintances she sometimes worked with. 

“What?” Curt, distrusting, as usual.

She missed Bethany terribly, at that moment. Beth had always stopped her from acting rashly. Maybe, if she’d still had Beth with her she wouldn’t have stormed out on her budding friendship with Fenris over a misunderstanding. Maybe they could have been friends instead of people that just occasionally needed each other’s help.

“The Arishok asked to see me. I don’t think…”

Fenris was already across the room pulling on the rest of his armor. He strapped his enormous sword to his back and crossed to her, “Well, let’s go.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

He nodded, “Varric?”

“Yes, headed there next.” 

As soon as they both walked into Varric’s suite he’d flashed a huge grin and picked up Bianca. “Looks like we might see a little excitement today, girl.” He turned his attention to Sekhmet, “So, where too?”

“To see the Arishok.” At least someone was enjoying themselves.

“Let’s go get Daisy.” He added easily, falling in next to her.

“No,” both she and Fenris responded, Fenris’ was more of a growl than a word.

“I told her the next time we went out on a job, she could come.” His jaw was set hard.

“Not, my problem Varric.” She snapped, she didn’t need him making demands on her too.

“Fine, you and Broody take care of this on your own then.” He headed back into the room.

She looked to Fenris, she didn’t want to bring Merrill, but she also didn’t want to head into the Arishok’s compound with just Fenris. He was a talented fighter, yes, but against an entire compound of Qunari the two of them didn’t stand a chance. From the look of resignation in his eyes, he apparently agreed.

Isabela wouldn’t come, she steered clear of the Qunari for some reason. Aveline was too wrapped up in her guard, not to mention it was in the opposite direction which meant it was Varric and Merrill or no one. She sighed heavily, and turned back to Varric but it was Fenris who called out to him.

“Well, then let’s go get her. She’s still in the alienage I suppose?” 

Varric ignored the disgust in Fenris’ voice and hustled to rejoin them. Ten minutes later they were standing inside of Merril’s hovel in the alienage watching her nervously scramble around stuffing things into her belt pouches before strapping her staff to her back. Miraculously, she stayed quiet even though she was clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of her feet as they exited her place.

And before they knew it they were all standing in front of the Arishok. He looked down on them all imperiously from his odd throne at the top of the steps. Sekhmet tried to gauge the faces of the Qunari guarding him, but she might as well have been looking at stone statues for all the emotion they conveyed.

Fenris stood beside her, but Varric and Merrill had stopped a couple feet back. That was fine, probably better that way. Hopefully, Merrill would keep her mouth shut and if they were suddenly attacked it gave the Qunari more than one target to focus on.

“Serrah Hawke,” he managed to make her name sound like an insult.

She sighed, “Yes?” She tried to sound as irreverent as her reputation.

“Last we met, I did not know your name, did not care to. You have changed your fortune over the years, Qunari have not.” His enormous horns made even the smallest movement of his head look exaggerated.

She was a little taken aback; he had kept tabs on her over the years? Or, had Varric’s tall tales reached even his ears? No, she thought the Qunari would have little use of stories like Varric’s.

His tone changed, a bit calmer, less on edge. “I offer a courtesy Hawke. Someone has stolen the formula for what he thinks is gaatlok.” The tone changed again, a lethal and dangerous voice this time. “You will want to hunt him.”

Whoa, someone had managed to steal from the Qunari? “Excuse me but this sounds like quite the feat.” She’d never heard of anyone managing to steal from the Qunari. They were so bloody serious all the time they took even the littlest of tasks as a matter of life and death.

“It was allowed,” And his voice held the truth of his words. “The stolen formula was a decoy.” Well that explained why he was so calm about it. “Saar Qamek, a poison gas, not explosives. A small amount is dangerous enough to your kind but if made in quantity, perhaps by someone intending to sell it.”

She saw exactly where he was headed with this. “Like that merchant, Jevaris.” The skeevie little bastard she’d barely been able to look at the last time. He’d dragged her into one of his messes once already and walked away unscathed; he’d pay from dragging her into another one.

The Arishok gave a faint nod, “Would he be cautious, or would he assume success and make enough to threaten a district?”

She wasn’t sure Jevaris was even smart enough to pull this off though. “It took Jevaris long enough to come up with this. Are you sure it was him?”

“Others have asked about the gaatlok but only he chose to delude himself beyond ‘no’. Is three years so long to a hateful fool?” He shook his head in obvious frustration, “I have no way of understanding such weakness. His crime seems obvious, further evidence could be the deaths of many. I wouldn’t wait.”

Just how dangerous was this shit? And if it was so dangerous why had the Arishok allowed it to be stolen? “This decoy, how dangerous can it be?”

She thought perhaps he wouldn’t tell her, more Qunari secrets, but he seemed to have no qualms talking about the effects of the gas. “It is not a threat to Qunari. For your kind it is as dangerous as those who breathe it.”

She scowled, now was not the time for riddles. “And just what the Void does that mean?”

If he was annoyed at her outburst he didn’t bother to react to it, choosing instead to simply answer her question. “The gas kills, but first it turns allies against their own in blind rage. So the greater the skill of those sent against us, the more dangerous they become to their own people.”

“And you thought this was a good idea?” Just what were the Qunari doing that they travelled with such weapons? And if they really had such weapons why hadn’t they used them to take over Kirkwall? She decided when this was all said and done she was going to have to learn as much as she could about the Qunari. At least she had Fenris as a guide as to where to start, hopefully.

The Arishok was unconcerned, “It is no longer our problem.”

Decoy or not this was dangerous shit, “So, you just leave this decoy lying around?”

At last, a reaction from the Arishok, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “We did not make it easy. Three Qunari died defending it, enough to impart a sense of worth.” He gave another small shrug, “If the real formula were at risk, the Qun would demand that we protect it to the last of us.”

Three lives gone to make a fake recipe look real enough to seem important; why was she surprised after what had happened with Ketojan? The Qun was an odd religion with seemingly little regard for life. Though didn’t all religions have their oddities and seeming cruelties?

And why, if they had so little regard for their own lives would the Arishok try to protect human lives? “You made your hate for this city clear three years ago. Why give me this warning?”

His lip twitched, but it was so fast and so small it was impossible to attach any emotion to the tiny gesture. “I don’t call anyone in Kirkwall an ally or even a good rival, but you have shown competence. The day comes when the Qun will demand an accounting, until then I will show respect to the most promising among you.”

Right, okay, that wasn’t cryptic or anything. She pushed the thought aside for now, something else to tackle when she researched the Qun and the Qunari. She turned to Varric, who always seemed to know everything about everyone in Kirkwall. “Any idea where we can find Jevaris?”

Varric stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I heard about a selloff, merchant territories and such. They don’t do that unless someone left in a hurry. I’d a figured he rooked some noble, he’s sure not a burglar.”

She didn’t give a crap what he was, right now he was her best lead and she was going to take it. “Just tell me where he is.” 

He scowled at her brusque reply, “I haven’t kept up on the squirt, ask the Coterie.”

The Arishok dismissed them, having said all he intended to apparently, “Panahedan Hawke, I do not hope you die.”

She took his dismissal in stride and turned to leave, her heart already hammering in her chest. She’d avoided Darktown for the last couple years. She had no desire to run into him, even accidentally. Still, there were more important things than her still bruised heart at just this moment.

So, she slipped into Darktown with the others on her heels. It was easy enough to find a Coterie barker hawking Javaris’ assets. And popular man that Javaris was she was more than happy to point them in his direction. From there tracking the little bastard down was a snap.

His ridiculous lackeys attacked them on sight and she was in no mood for playing games so when her companions looked to her she gave a brief nod. “We only need Jevaris.”

A quick fight, barely enough to elevate her heart rate and Jevaris’ mercenaries were dead at their feet. As for Jevaris himself, he cowered, shaking so hard his knees were quite literally knocking together. Good, he should fear her. 

He dragged her into yet another mess with the Qunari while simultaneously bringing her to the notice of the Viscount. And with her recreational activities the last thing she wanted was to have the Viscount’s attention. She strolled over to him and waited for him to look up at her.

Becoming impatient for him to grow a pair of balls and look at her she spoke. ““Is that anyway to treat an old friend?”

All at once his shaking stopped and he looked up, eyes narrowing. His fear evidently replaced with anger. “You? Grannies garters, she would hire you. I can’t buy a break on discount.” He crossed his arms as if in challenge, “You know what, take my head and pike it back to that sodding elf. I need the rest.”

She scowled and shifted closer to him, elf? “What in blazes are you talking about?”

The anger melted away somewhat replaced with incredulity. “Wha…you don’t know? Then what…you’re tracking for the Qunari?” He shook his head. “Then she did it, that elf got them after me for nothing. Bitch born.”

Varric, let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, I knew he was no burglar, we’re not climbers.”

Without any further prompting Jevaris started spilling his cowardly guts. “Look, I’m minding business, same old, then out of the blue some elf tries to kill me. Says she’s got the Qunari powder and I’m her cover. I slipped her, hired some body guards and ran for it.” He sneered at Hawke, “And now you’re here, great.”

“So far I haven’t heard anything useful out of you.” She snapped, while he was running off at the mouth Kirkwall could be succumbing to Qunari gas. 

“Then you haven’t been listening. I had nothing to do with this.” He growled.

“Except that getting the gaatlok was your original plan, one you apparently told enough people about that this elf decided you would be perfect cover. Even the Arishok believed it was you. And here you are slinking out of the city, making yourself look guilty, just like this elf likely knew you would. So Jevaris, who is this elf? Seems she knows you pretty damn well.” Not that she trusted him to tell her the truth, but it was worth a shot.

He shrugged, a little too nonchalantly. “I have no idea. But here,” he handed her a piece of parchment. “You want to drag dark into light; I had a man follow her. The elf’s in Lowtown. I just want to get out with my…dead guards, thanks for that. He gave her a dirty look.

“That everything?” She glanced at the parchment; it was a crudely drawn map.

He nodded.

She was ready to have done with the greasy little twerp once and for all. “You and I are done.”

“Good and good, thanks to you I have a lot of dead gear to haul.” He turned away from her, starting to walk away and began to mutter to himself. “Sodding dog lord in roader.” 

Stupid shit didn’t know enough to shut up when he was ahead. She’d had enough of his mouth, enough of his problems and condescension. He had nothing to offer the world other than greed and malice. She’d be doing the world a service. She pulled a throwing knife from her belt and threw it, arcing it low enough to embed in the bastard’s skull.

His body jerked when it hit him, his body doing a half turn before crumpling into the dirt. She glanced to Varric and Fenris before walking to retrieve her knife. Varric was standing there mouth agape, while Fenris shook his head in disbelief. 

Varric finally found his voice, and was royally pissed, “What the fuck, Hawke. He didn’t even do anything.”

Sekhmet shrugged, “He bothered me.”

“Oh, well that’s bloody brilliant. So now we kill people who inconvenience us?” He snapped.

“No, now let’s get back to the city. We need to find this elf.” She started walking not waiting for the others. They would follow or not. She didn’t really care at this point. She had a job to do, preferably before half the city was losing its mind and turning on the other half of the city.

At the edge of the city Varric fell into step beside her. “Broody and I need to speak with you.”

“I’m in no mood to be lectured, Varric.” She didn’t slow.

“Not a lecture. But we can’t just go charging after this elf. If she’s made the Saar Qamek we’re going to need some kind of plan. None of us are going to be immune to its effects.” There was something he wasn’t sharing with her, something he was carefully not saying.

She slowed a little. “What kind of plan?”

Varric looked to Fenris who nodded briefly. Varric stopped and Sekhmet followed suit, something big was going on here now, if neither of them wanted to say anything. Were they afraid of her getting poisoned after what she had done to Jevaris?

Varric smiled at Merrill, “Daisy, go on home. The fewer of us exposed to the gas the better.”

Merrill looked hurt, “But, Varric…”

“He said go.” Fenris growled at her.

She scurried away, at almost a run. Sekhmet was relieved; apparently it wasn’t her they were concerned with, but Merrill. The idea of a blood mage losing her mind didn’t sit particularly well with her either, who knew what kind of havoc a blood mage could wreak when deranged on this Qunari poison. Even though she wasn’t overly fond of Merrill she had no desire to kill her.

“So, are we ready to go now?” She asked, wanting to get the whole mess over with.

“Not yet. There’s one more person we need to get before we go.” Varric responded, not quite meeting her eyes.

Dammit, what was his problem? “We can grab Izzy on the way.”

“Not, Izzy.” Varric muttered.

“Then who?” She snapped, losing her temper again. The longer they waited the more people were in danger.

Varric remained silent even when she glared at him. 

It was Fenris who finally spoke. “The abomination.”

“No,” no thought required. She didn’t want to see him; he didn’t want to see her, as simple as that.

“Yes,” Fenris responded just as quickly, just as smoothly. 

What insane planet did she live on that Fenris was advocating to bring Anders along with them. Especially, when there was a chance he could lose himself and turn on them all. Fenris hadn’t been in the Deep Roads with them, but Varric had. He’d seen exactly the kind of destruction Justice was capable of.

“Varric, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea, not after what happened with the hunger demon in the Deep Roads.” 

“I do. Blondie’s healing gives us the best chance of keeping our minds intact. And we both know that boy has some serious range, he can stay back and possibly avoid being exposed altogether while we deal with the situation.” Silver tongued devil was going to try to talk her into agreeing.

It was madness though, “Varric, this is stupid and you know it.”

Varric shrugged, “Think of it this way, Anders has two wills to fight the effects of the gas. He has a better chance of withstanding it than any of us.”

“No, he’s more likely to hurt himself. Justice could just destroy us all in a blink and you know it Varric.” She whirled on Fenris, “And how could you possibly let him talk you into this. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Fenris’ lips curled the slightest, an almost smile. “It was my suggestion.”

“Your what?” They were all mad.

Varric gripped her wrist and stepped close. “He wrested control from Justice once to save you, what makes you think he can’t do it again?”

“Can’t isn’t the issue, things have changed.” She said softly, she’d already lost and knew it. If Varric and Fenris were in agreement, over Anders of all things, there was no changing their minds.

Varric let her go. “One of these days you’re going to tell me exactly what happened between the two of you. For now though, we’re going to Darktown to get him.”

She nodded and followed behind them. All too soon the door of his clinic loomed in front of them. Her stomach knotted. She hadn’t seen him since that night he’d stayed at her estate. She’d been very careful to steer clear of any place she could have even accidentally run into him. How long had it been? Years, and still she was nervous.

Varric paused beside her. “So, how are you going to get him to come with us?”

She snorted, “I’m not. You want him, you convince him.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Will you come in at least?” He asked gently.

“Fine, but don’t ask me to speak to him.” She followed them in the door, and paused just inside.

She didn’t have to look up to see him; she could feel exactly where he was in the room. She carefully looked around the room to see if there were any patients in the clinic, making sure to avoid where she knew he stood. The clinic was empty besides them, which was a little odd, she thought.

She suppressed a mad urge to run to Anders, to throw her arms around him and beg him to forgive her for throwing him out of her life. She’d done what she had to, and being here now didn’t change that. She still needed Anders out of her life, for good. She’d work with him because she had to, no other reason.

She studied the wall, desperate for anything to pull her attention away from the man she still wanted. It made her sick, she hadn’t even looked at him yet she couldn’t help but react to his mere proximity. She felt his magic tickle at her senses, he was as anxious as she was apparently. He was holding a lightning spell tight, she wondered briefly if the other’s could sense it, or if he was letting them see it coiled at his fingers, ready to fly.

Served them right if he zapped them, they deserved no less for dragging her down here, for trying to drag the two of them back into each other’s life. Was he as uncomfortable with all of this as she was? She felt his gaze on her a couple of times, but forced herself not to look at him. Let him think she hated him, that she didn’t want anything to do with him. 

Eventually, the magic dissipated and she found herself a bit disappointed. Not just that he hadn’t zapped Varric and Fenris but she had apparently missed the feel of his magic lapping at her senses like the waves of the cool mountain lake it smelled of. It was so much easier not to miss him when she didn’t have to see him, to smell him, to feel him.

How long would it take her to pick up the pieces this time? Perhaps tonight when all this madness was said and done she’d drown herself in Antivan brandy, try to erase him from her memory. How much alcohol would it take to forget your first love?

She heard the three of them coming towards her and quickly darted out of the door. She stopped at the bottom of the steps, waiting to see where Varric wanted to head next. At this point she was no longer leading this little adventure. She wasn’t sure she could.

“You’re sure she’s alright with this?” Anders’ voice wafted down to her.

Alright? Fuck no she wasn’t alright with this, not even close. Maybe Varric and Fenris had a point but she couldn’t see it. All she knew was that she wanted to run. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle because she wasn’t sure what direction she wanted to run, towards that sweet voice or as far from it as she could.

“She’s here isn’t she?” Varric responded. “Don’t worry about it, the longer we dick around here the more lives are in danger.”

“Then let’s go, do you know where we need to go?” Anders voice was soft, but determined.

“She does,” Varric swept down the steps towards her. 

She held out the parchment map, waiting for him to take it. He took it, looking her in the eye before dropping his gaze. At least he felt a little bad about putting her into this situation. The same couldn’t be said for Fenris, who seemed to be enjoying her discomfort.

“Aren’t you going to say hello Hawke? I understand it’s been a while since you two have seen each other.” Smug bastard was practically grinning.

She took a slow breath and let a smirk settle on her lips. Yes, that was better, time to regain a better footing. “I figured I would leave the niceties to you Fen, after all you were the one chomping at the bit to see him.”

She caught sight of Anders’ jaw dropping in her peripheral vision, just moments before Fenris flashed her a glare that could melt steel. She resisted the urge to look more fully at Anders, to see how he was, how he looked after the years they had been apart. Instead, she turned and followed after Varric who was already walking ahead of them. 

“What is she talking about?” Anders’ voice was tight behind them and she had the distinct impression he was irritated.

“Nothing,” Fenris snapped.

“Is this some kind of trap? I’m not going to go quietly if you three are planning on collecting the bounty on my head.” Anders was backing up, his magic once again coiling at his fingers.

Varric turned quickly, “Blondie, no one’s taking you anywhere. It was just Fenris who thought having a healer with us was a good idea. That’s it.”

“Bullshit, I believe that about as much as I believe the moon is made of fucking cheese.” Anders’ voice was an angry growl.

“It’s the truth, though I’m definitely regretting it now.” Fenris responded.

Sekhmet stayed where she was, quiet, waiting for the whole thing to play out. Let the men sort this out themselves. It was hard to believe Anders was even less trusting now than he had been a few years ago. The years had done the same to her, taken away what little trust, what little faith she’d had. She often felt cold and empty and knew that others could sense it in her.

“Just calm down.” This from Varric who was walking closer to Anders.

Lightning hit the floor inches from Varric’s feet. “Back off.”

“Little help here, Hawke?” Varric was slowly backing away from Anders.

“What do I look like the fucking mage whisperer?” She leaned against the wall, suddenly very tired. She should just leave. Fuck the Qunari, fuck Kirkwall, and all the damn men she’d ever known. She hadn’t realized the Templar were actively hunting Anders, she never would have made the joke if she had. She hadn’t meant to spook him.

“Just tell him the truth.” Varric paused, his eyes moving to her again.

“Quickly,” Fenris’ grit out.

She sighed, “We really need your help, Anders. We’re not taking you in, I swear. Do you really think I’d turn you over to Templars?”

“And how am I supposed to believe you when you won’t look at me? You haven’t looked at me once.” There was such fury in his voice.

“Alright, you two go take a hike. Anders and I will be there in a moment.” She waited for both of them to disappear out of sight. She knew they’d both be listening but there was nothing she could do about that. She pushed away from the wall and started slowly walking towards Anders.

“Going to light me up if I get too close?” She asked half joking, still not able to look up at him.

The lightning fizzled and died, she could still feel it buzzing barely below the surface of his skin though. He was as anxious as she felt. Still she walked closer and closer. He didn’t bolt, stood stiff and rigid.

She let her fingers barely skim his own and finally looked up into his face. His whole body relaxed, and she forced herself not to become stiff. She took a deep breath meant to calm herself and only added to her anxiety as his scent filled her nostrils.

A soft sigh left Anders’ lips, “Hawke,” it was barely a whisper.

“No, just listen.” She locked her eyes with his, resisting the urge to clamp her fingers over his own when it felt like the floor was being pulled out from beneath her feet. Just get through this, she could do it. “We need your help. Fenris suggested it, Varric agreed, so here we are. I didn’t know the Templars were after you.”

“Not me specifically, any member of the underground.” He took a slow breath, “I take it from your demeanor you didn’t want me along?”

“Does it matter? We need help.” She stepped away from him; it hurt to be this close to him. “Are you coming?”

A heartbeat, an eternity stretched out between them as they stared at each other. For a moment she thought it was longing she saw in his eyes, could he see it in hers? It was gone in a blink, whatever it was. He nodded and she turned away, quickly heading to rejoin the others.

They found the alley not just from the map but from the raised and panicked voice of a city guard warning people away. The poor man was horrified when he realized Sekhmet was going to be strolling right into the gas. She warned the gathered crowd away, and ignored the guard’s pleas for her to steer clear.

“Don’t worry. Aveline will know you couldn’t have stopped me no matter what you did. You won’t get in trouble, I promise.” She pushed in past the gate, the others coming in after her. On the ground below them a sickly green mist blanketed the alley too thick to see the ground through. 

“Shit, now what?” Varric asked.

Anders started casting, a pale yellow spell that fell over each of them except for himself. “This should help boost your tolerance. If you feel ill or just not quite right at all, call out to me and I’ll do what I can. I’ll stay here. I’m not sure what kind of effect the gas would have on Justice and I, but I’d rather not find out if I don’t have to.”

“We’ll find out where it’s coming from and find a way to stop it.” She pulled her blades, not thrilled by the idea she might need to use them on citizens. She turned to Anders, “If you see any infected citizens do what you can for them. I don’t want to have to kill them.”

He nodded, “I can put them to sleep if nothing else.”

“And if any of us seem to be losing the battle, do the same.” This from Fenris.

Sekhmet descended the steps. The gas smelled rotten, fetid, the smell alone was enough to choke them. She moved slowly forward trying to figure out where the gas was coming from.

“Hawke, over here, I think I found something.” It was almost impossible to see Varric; he was so short he was engulfed by the mist completely.

He waded towards her and she saw something flash in his hand. When he got closer she saw it was a latch for a barrel. So the mist must be seeping from a barrel. And maybe they could use this to close it up. 

Anders directed them from his vantage point, towards a heavier concentration and they found a barrel and sealed it. A small gust of wind, courtesy of Anders, verified what Sekhmet had been afraid of. There must be more barrels, which meant they had to find more latches.

They were spreading out looking for other barrels when they were attacked, not by citizens but by mercenaries. Anders shouted a warning just moments before the mercenaries found them in the thick green cloud. Her limbs felt heavy as she fought and she and Fenris both called out to Anders before the fight was over.

It turned into an awful slog, fighting, finding a latch closing a barrel, repeat. After they found the third latch Varric started jogging towards Anders, he was three quarters of the way to the staircase when he yelled out to Anders.

“Put me to sleep Blondie, fast.” A moment later he was crumpled on the ground asleep.

Anders jogged down the steps and dragged Varric out of the gas. “I’ve got him. You two finish this.”

As they approached what appeared to be the last barrel a woman came charging at them. She was out of Anders’ sight so he wouldn’t be able to stop her. Sekhmet had a brief second to wonder if she could somehow save the poor woman or if she was too far gone.

In the end it didn’t matter. Fenris stepped forward and plunged his sword through her chest snuffing out her life. He pulled his sword free, and let it hang by his side. “You heard the Arishok, the gas kills. It was better to end her life quickly.”

Sekhmet nodded feeling almost numb. She focused on closing the last barrel; she wanted to get out of this alley filled with death. And only once all of this mess was dealt with would they be able to determine if Varric was going to be alright.

As they came around the corner they saw an elven woman and more mercenaries descended on the alley. Was this the elven woman Jevaris had been speaking of? She looked sickly, her skin cracked and dry. Had she managed to poison herself?

“So, this damned mess is your fault I presume.” Why she was wasting her time talking she had no idea.

The elven girl’s eyes went wide, “Is that….serrah Hawke?” She almost sounded awed. It quickly morphed into anger, “you have enemies. I’m glad it’s you really. These poor people, you are a much better target.”

She felt bad for the people she had killed? Had she just been planning on selling it after all? But then, what of her target comment? “So, care to explain your particular brand of crazy?”

The elf paced a little, winding herself up as she spoke with hurried and angry tones. “Qunari take my people, my siblings forget their culture then go to the Qun for purpose. We’re losing them twice.” She paused and looked at Hawke, “So I get some help from your people. We’ll take the Qunari thunder, make some accidents and make them hated. But this….” She looked around the alley, sadness etched deep into her face, “this is all wrong.”

“So you were planning on killing people either way? Only now you’re sorry, because what? You got yourself sick? Or maybe you didn’t like watching them go mad before they died. You did this, and for what? A little revenge against the Qunari? None of the people you killed are Qunari, you didn’t punish them, only innocent victims.” Her anger was rising, cutting off her reason. She wanted this bitch dead, now.

More madness fell from the elf’s lips. “It can still work; they’re hidden in your city. They’ll enrage the faithful and make sure the Qunari are blamed. Me? I’m finished, I just need a few more bodies…a few more.”

“Good, come on down here and let’s dance.” She snarled at the mad elf.

The fight barely lasted a half dozen breaths. Being in clear view of Anders he managed to take out most of them. He was nice enough to leave the demented elf for her. Once the fighting was done she rushed back to the gate to check on Varric.

“He’s fine; I got most of the poison out of his system I think. He’s just sleeping. If we can manage to keep it that way it would be better for him. It took quite the toll on him and he really needs the rest. Not to mention he’ll have an enormous headache and blurred vision if you wake him now.” Anders stepped out of the way as she came up the steps.

Fenris moved around her and picked Varric up. “I’ll take him to the Hanged Man.”

She sighed, “I’ll let the Arishok know what happened.”

“I’ll come with you.” Anders stepped behind her.

She shook her head. “No, head on back to the clinic, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” This from Fenris.

She wasn’t sure, not exactly. What she was sure of was that she could, under no circumstances, be left alone with Anders. Better to send him back now, end things here without complications. It was bad enough that two years of careful avoidance had been dashed apart; there was no need to tempt fate, or herself, further.

“Yeah, he’s not going to be pleased about what happened but I can’t imagine he’s going to hurt me.” She strode out of the alley, pausing just long enough to let the guardsman know that the gas should be dissipating.

She walked to the docks as quickly as her tired legs would carry her. She just wanted to get home, scrub up and pass out. The Arishok didn’t seem surprised to see her, didn’t even wait for her to tell him what had happened. Somehow he already knew.

“So, I was wrong about our thief.” His voice was like gravel.

She gave a little shrug. The man acted like he had never been wrong before. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

He gave a grunt of irritation. “They say we were careless with our trap, that this is our fault. But even without the Saar Qamek there would have been death. This elf was determined to lay blame at our feet. I admire conviction with a focus but your kind are truly committed to weakness.”

What was with everyone referring to “her kind” today? And since when was an elf “her kind”? Or did the Qunari just see everyone not of the Qun as being all lumped together? She turned her mind to other, more pressing concerns. “Why aren’t you more concerned about her supporters?”

“Our enemies strike from shadow because they cannot stand before us. This is not a revelation and it doesn’t matter. I am not here to fight.” His voice lowered a little, becoming more serious. “I am here to satisfy a demand you cannot understand.”

“It’s taking long enough.” Perhaps she shouldn’t be so flippant.

He growled at her, agitated. “It will take as long as needed. No ship is coming. There is no rescue from duty to the Qun. I am stuck here.”

What was he on about now? “You could have built a ship by now, you know.”

“It is not about a ship. Filth stole from us, not now, not the Saar Qamek, years ago. A simple act of greed has bound me. We are all denied Par Vollen until I alone recover what was lost under my command.” With each sentence his ire grew and his voice became louder. “That is why this elf and her shadows are unimportant. That is why I do not simply walk from this pustule of a city.”

He turned away from her, “Fixing this mess is not the demand of the Qun.” Suddenly, he turned back towards her, aggressively and angrily striding forward, “And you should all be grateful” 

She waited to see what he would do now that he was so riled; maybe coming here alone had been a bad idea. After a few beats of silence the Arishok lowered his head as if suddenly remembering himself and turned away yet again. He walked slowly towards his odd carved throne and sat down heavily as if he were suddenly very tired. His words were softer, but still clipped. “Thank you, human, for your service. Leave.”

She did, happily. She’d have to talk to the Viscount soon, tell him that the Arishok was on edge and wouldn’t be leaving in the foreseeable future. She’d recommend he try to figure out what the Arishok was looking for and maybe mount an expedition of his own to find it, if for no other reason than to send the Qunari on their way. But for now, she was heading home, to her tub and her bed.


	28. Solace

Sekhmet had slept long and hard, but found herself still struggling with fatigue when she arose the next day. Chalking it up to the aftereffects of the gas she dressed quickly. She had no plans for the day, maybe a visit the Viscount to give him a heads up about the Arishok, but as tired as she felt perhaps it would be best to wait.

She hungrily gobbled her breakfast, surprising herself with the breadth of her appetite. Her mother watched, quietly disapproving as Sekhmet slathered her toast with butter and jam. Sekhmet paid her no mind. Her mother rarely smiled anymore.

Not that she could blame her. Her mother had lost so much, most of her family and what was left of it wasn’t what she had hoped for. Bethany would spend her life hunting Darkspawn and if her letters were any indication, hating Sekhmet for sentencing her to such a fate. As for Sekhmet herself, instead of letting her mother dress her in pretty dresses and find her a husband she ran wild and picked fights.

With the estate finally completely repaired and redecorated her mother had far too much time on her hands. Sekhmet hoped she could find something to occupy herself that would make her happy. No matter how happy it would make her mother, she would never be the pretty woman with a proper husband. The very idea turned her blood to ice.

Still, she could slow herself down; try to at least eat more like a lady for her mother’s sake. It was a small victory for her mother, and Sekhmet considered it well worth it when her mother gave her a small smile. Moments later, her mother excused herself, dropping her napkin daintily to the table. Being an Amell again suited her mother, you never would have guessed she’d spent decades as a peasant in Ferelden.

Sekhmet wasn’t sure whether to be thankful for her mother’s easy conversion or if she should be angry that her mother so easily shook off her past. Part of her burned that her mother had been able to shed all vestiges of her life with papa so easily. How could she just forget him and their life like it was nothing when it tortured Sekhmet everyday?

She’d finished eating and was clearing the table when Bodahn called for her. She had a visitor, which was odd; she didn’t receive many visitors here. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and tied it back quickly, trying to make herself somewhat presentable for whoever was waiting for her.

She needn’t have bothered. It was only Aveline. She was all business today, looking for a favor. Weren’t they all?

Sekhmet pushed the uncharitable thought away, Aveline rarely asked her for anything. And when she heard it was the Templar Emeric that had sent Aveline to her doorstep she paid attention. Aveline might not think much of the older man, but Sekhmet had found him fairly intelligent and well aware of his own limitations, a rare trait in a man.

If he was concerned about the disappearances of women being related she would happily look into it for him. The man might wear the armor of the Templars but she quite rather thought he had missed his real calling. A lifetime of service to the city would have likely suited him better.

“I’ll take a look into it, Aveline. Let you know what I find.” She flashed the Guard Captain a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, one less thing for me to have to deal with.” Aveline sounded as if the whole idea of looking into murders was a hassle.

Sekhmet didn’t comment on Aveline’s attitude, she knew how overwhelmed Aveline was and all the aggravation she had to deal with on a daily basis. Especially, when it came to dealing with Templars and Seneschal Bran. Aveline was a good Guard Captain, she cared about the city as well as the guards and did the best she could with the limited resources she was allotted.

“You headed back to the Keep?” Perhaps, Aveline could help her out as well.

Aveline nodded, “Paperwork to catch up on.”

“Good, do me a favor will you? Let the Viscount know I took care of the little problem he asked me to deal with. I’ll stop by when I can with details. And, between you and I Aveline, you might want to increase patrols on the docks and have your guards keep a close eye on the Qunari. The Arishok is getting a bit touchy.” 

“Care to fill me in on this problem the Viscount had you take care of?” Aveline cocked her head curiously.

Sekhmet nodded, “You can get most of the information from your guardsman, the one that was keeping people out of the alley with the poison gas. Nothing to worry about now, it’s all taken care of.”

“Alright, I need to get back. Let me know if you need anything, Hawke.” 

She smiled, “Of course.”

As soon as Aveline walked out Bodahn swept into the room with a letter in hand. “The messenger asked that I deliver this to you immediately.” 

She took the letter, scowled at the chantry seal and popped it open. The letter was from Sebastian Vael. It took her a moment to remember he was the Starkhaven Prince whose family had been slaughtered a few years ago. He didn’t reveal much in the letter, only that he urgently needed to speak with her.

She felt a flutter of something in her stomach; odd considering she barely knew the man. Nonetheless, she quickly threw on her armor, grabbed her favorite daggers and left the house immediately. She hurried to the Chantry and found Sebastian standing on the dias with the Grand Cleric.

Sebastian’s eyes widened a little in surprise when he saw her, “Hawke, we were just talking about you.”

She chuckled; glad to see he was alright. Seeing him now she realized the odd sensation in her gut had been concern. He was the last of his line, his family all slaughtered. Part of her felt deep compassion for him; she knew all too well how losing family could rip your life apart. “Please continue, I love to eavesdrop.” A little inappropriate humor always helped push aside unwelcome thoughts of her family.

He smiled, warm and welcoming, a completely open smile, not something she’d ever seen on any of her companions. Not even something she’d seen in her own family in years. Her stomach clenched, _“You should run boy, as fast and as far away from me as you can.”_ It was a quick thought, a bit of protective concern for a man who’d already suffered much. She’d help him; no matter what it was he needed, because the world needed people like him. People like Bethany had once been. 

The warm smile stayed in place as he spoke, “I’d rather talk directly if you don’t mind.” He paused and the smile slowly faded, like a sunset disappearing behind the mountains. “I’ve learned who hired Flint Company.” He took a breath, maybe to steel himself. “The Harrimans: a noble family of Kirkwall.” A sadness settled over him, one she recognized clearly, one that tugged at her own past. “They were my family’s allies; it’s hard to believe they betrayed us like this.”

Stick to the issue at hand, stop ruminating in the past. “Tell me about this family.”

His soft accented voice continued, the sadness a constant undercurrent. “Lord Harriman used to be a good man, but he became rather strange in his dotage. He died some years back. His daughter took over the family, Lady Johain Harriman. They say she’s become quite reclusive of late.”

Seemed like an ordinary enough family, but what would push them to murder people who had once been their allies? “Any idea why they turned on you?”

A soft sigh, “Money… power… it’s hard to say. Lady Harriman was always jealous of our family for being royalty when hers were mere nobility, but I can’t imagine that pushing her into outright murder.”

Was the man really that naïve? “Jealousy can be a cruel mistress, pushing you to do all sorts of things you never thought you would.” 

The Grand Cleric decided to chime in, her eyes locked onto Sebastian, pleading with him. “Give this up Sebastian. Dedicate yourself to the Chantry as you swore.”

His eyelids fluttered as his eyes closed, hiding their startling teal color. “I must speak with Lady Harriman and find out what drove her to this madness.” He opened them again, looking to Sekhmet, begging her to understand his need. “But I am the last of my line; I should not go alone and make myself a target.”

She’d get him his answers; she knew she wouldn’t be able to let it go if it were her. Could she do it without him losing himself though? His sweetness, his openness was a rarity, a treasure. Could she steer him away from becoming bitter? She’d failed so spectacularly with Bethany. 

Apparently, her silence stretched out too long because the Grand Cleric added her voice to Sebastian’s cause. “If this allows Sebastian to make peace it is worth doing. You’ve taken on lesser causes.”

Sebastian had become anxious, nervous. “Please, I have no one else to turn to.” And finally he resorted to bargaining, “If you like I can travel with you until you confront Lady Harriman. Otherwise you can always find me here in the Chantry.”

“Of course I’ll help you. Before we make any other plans though, I need to see what you’re capable of, see if you can hold your own.” She wasn’t going to take him somewhere and get him killed.

The Grand cleric nodded faintly, “There’s a training area set up in the basement for the Templars to use while they’re stationed here. You can use that.”

Sebastian held out his arm for her to take making Sekhmet laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

He gave a little shrug, “No reason I can’t be a gentleman.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Lead the way.” She gestured ahead of her and fell behind as he started away.

They headed down a staircase; he left her at the landing while he jogged to his room to get his bow before leading the way down the rest of the stairs. It was a nice bow, nothing like Varric’s beautiful crossbow, but a good solid bow. At least as far as she could tell, she didn’t know all that much about bows, just enough to use them if absolutely necessary.

“So, are you any good with that bow?” 

He flashed her roguish smile that hinted at secrets. Perhaps this paragon of innocence wasn’t as innocent as he seemed which just made him all the more interesting. He tipped his head towards her, “Aye, fair to middling.”

She chuckled, “Are you now? Show me what you’ve got.”

And so they spent the next two hours, with him shooting his bow, man was a right dead shot. Fantastic really, and all wasted on the Chantry. Varric might have the sexier bow, but Sebastian was a real marksman. He even did a fairly good job repelling her with a dagger when she got close trying to throw off his shots with surprise attacks.

She teased him a little and found him easy going, even teasing her back playfully. The man might have had secrets and perhaps a past darker than first appeared, but mostly he was sweet, almost childlike at times. And she quickly found out he was rather affectionate, giving a congratulatory pat on the shoulder or a one armed hug here and there. 

Nothing forward or using it as an excuse to get close as other men would. He was just an affectionate person. She liked him right away, his exuberance when shooting his bow, his playful teasing responses to her own teases. Sebastian was like a breath of fresh air.

When she was satisfied he could handle himself they sat for a while on a bale of hay just to talk and relax after their exertions. He shared with her a little about his family and she surprised herself by talking with him a bit about her own. 

She smiled, he probably made a great Chantry brother, he was just so easy to talk to. How many of Kirkwall’s confessions had he heard and it hadn’t changed him, made him cynical? Maybe he could teach her a trick or two about not becoming hateful and bitter.

“How are you feeling? Are you too tired to go see Lady Harriman today?” Might as well get it out of the way sooner rather than later.

He stood, “Today? Yes, let’s go.”

“Alright, I’m going to get a couple of friends to give us a hand, just in case they’re of a mind to hurt you. I’ll meet you back here in an hour or so.”

********

Isabela had actually squealed in delight when Sekhmet introduced her to Sebastian. Probably had fantasies of debauching the poor man. He gave her a friendly smile, took her hand and kissed it, ever the consummate gentleman. Sekhmet had a sneaking suspicion he was playing it up a bit just to tickle Isabela.

Varric had been polite enough, but gave Sekhmet a pointed look and rolled his eyes when Sebastian wasn’t looking. Maybe he was just jealous that they finally had another archer. Then again, maybe it was Sebastian’s clean cut good looks that ruffled Varric’s feathers. He made several comments about not wanting Sebastian to overtax himself or to get his hands dirty.

Sebastian took it all in stride, strolling easily along with them until they reached the Harriman’s door. The would-be prince stepped up to the door, looked around a little nervously before knocking. He stepped back quickly when the door swung open.

“Oh, uh…hmm. The door was open,” he took a small step inside and glanced around, “And not a single guard posted anywhere. This is not the Lady Harriman I remember.”

They all followed in after him, looking around the downstairs quickly. The house seemed too quiet and still. “Maybe no one’s here?” She asked gently.

He shook his head, “Something is very wrong in here.”

He was right, she could feel it too. She just had no idea what it could possibly be. They ventured up the stairs slowly, listening for any sounds of movement in the house but everything was silent.

As they neared a doorway she heard murmurings from inside. She waived Sebastian over to listen.

“Aye, I think that’s Flora. She’s Lady Johain’s daughter. Maybe she can shed some light on this mess.” He slipped the bow he had been carrying onto his shoulder. “No need to startle the girl.”

He slowly opened the door and they followed him inside. The floor plan was similar to the wine cellar in her own home, which meant the center of the room was a deep depression, down a small flight of stairs where the giant casks were stored. Sekhmet peered over the railing and frowned, the girl was yelling at someone but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room with her. “Should we go down and say hello?”

Sebastian nodded and lead them down the stairs, worry lines crinkling the skin beside his teal colored eyes. And as they neared the bottom, and could clearly hear Flora threatening to drown someone in the cask dregs his worry only seemed to grow. “Flora?” He called out gently.

She continued ranting as if Sebastian hadn’t spoken. In fact, she didn’t seem to have even noticed they were standing just a few feet from her. She was lost to some kind of madness or delirium as she reeled back and forth drunkenly cursing that no one cared what she wanted.

Varric let out a heavy sigh, “That sounds familiar; I don’t envy anyone in this household tomorrow morning.” He flashed a wry smile at Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded his head a bit in recognition, “She doesn’t even see us. This is no normal wine.”

“Come on; let’s see if we can find someone a little more…cognizant.” Sekhmet coaxed.

Back up the stairs and down the hall they found another strange sight. A fire was burning, not in the fireplace but right on the stone floor. A pot sat over it and piles of golden coins were scattered haphazardly around. Once again they could hear someone ranting inside.

Sebastian moved to charge into the room, Sekhmet gripped his arm. “Hey, last of your line, get behind me, let me check it out first.”

He glowered a little, but did as she bid. She slipped into the room and found a human man pacing and ranting about needing more logs and more gold. Closer to the door stood two elves. One was a pretty elven girl, clearly a servant. The other, likely another servant, was a male holding a knife to her throat. None of them seemed to notice her enter the room.

She waived the others to come in and join her. If for no other reason than to witness the insanity, and reassure her she was really seeing what she was seeing. Sebastian gasped in shock when he entered, and she watched as a flicker of anger darkened his pretty teal eyes when he heard the young elven girl was begging for her life.

Sebastian spoke through gritted teeth, “That’s Brett Harriman. One of Lady Johain’s sons.”

Brett paused in his pacing, turning to look at the servant, his voice was lilting, as if convincing a child to eat her vegetables. “There is nothing to fear. You’ll be beautiful.” He turned his attention to the male servant. “Pour it over her.”

Sekhmet’s stomach churned when she realized he meant to turn the pretty elven girl into a golden statue. What an awful way to die. What could have possibly prompted such madness in now two members of the household.

Sebastian stepped forward, his voice pained. “Don’t, you’ll kill her.” When there was no response from Brett, Sebastian growled in frustration. “He can’t hear me.”

But the male servant did. He turned towards Sebastian, advancing on him with the dagger he had been holding to the elven girl’s throat held threateningly out in front of him. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, he took a step forward and decked the male servant, laying him out cold with a single punch.

_“Not bad for a prince”_ , Sekhmet thought and stifled a giggle. 

Isabela didn’t do quite so well at hiding her amusement, whistling low and laughing at Sebastian’s manly display. Varric still didn’t seem impressed. He could be such a sourpuss sometimes. 

They all stepped out of the way as the elven girl ran from the room, and likely right out of the house. 

Brett Harriman barely noticed. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, “Perhaps I should be the one?”

Sebastian looked at her, shaking his head, “We must end this madness.”

She couldn’t agree more. Harriman continued pacing and talking to himself, but didn’t seem interested in interacting with them at all, or in actually doing any physical labor. She decided it was probably safest just to steer clear of him for now.

They all searched around the room to see if they could find anything that might help them figure out what was going on. Unfortunately, all they found was a page from Flora’s diary in which she was whining about the noise from the construction of the house. The timing between the construction and what happened to Sebastian’s family seemed a little too coincidental, but it was far from an explanation.

Sebastian was obviously still in shock, he murmured quietly beside her. “I visited this house often as a child, they couldn’t have concealed such goings on.”

She gave him a small smile, hoping it looked reassuring. “It’s alright, Sebastian. We’ll find out what’s going on.”

He nodded and gestured up another set of stairs. “There are a couple rooms upstairs; they belong to the two boys. Perhaps someone will be there that can help shed some light.”

She wasn’t so sure about that, but followed him up the stairs anyways. In the hallway, very prominently displayed on the table was a book about the history of the Vael family. She pointed it out to Sebastian but he just shook his head, not interested at all.

Sekhmet swiped it and slipped it into her pack. She might like learning about the family she’d helped to avenge. And maybe his family’s history would give her a little insight into Sebastian as well. At the very least it might be good reading.

The room on the far end of the hall was locked, but even when she picked the lock there was something heavy barricading the door. They tried a few times to force it open to no avail. She gave up, not seeing any reason to break her back for whatever may or may not be in the room. They’d check the rest of the house out and if they couldn’t find anything to explain all that had happened they could always come back and try again.

They turned their attention to other door and found it standing open. Inside was…well it was certainly entertaining. A young man who was shirtless and a female elf in just a corset, were entertaining each other as it were. He was moaning in pleasure, encouraging her to move lower, an obvious bid for fellatio.

She looked to Sebastian, expecting him to be blushing. He just looked annoyed though, someone he knew engaged in sexual acts right in front of him and he doesn’t bat an eye? _“My, my Sebastian, just what kind of prince were you?”_ And how did he manage to seem so sweet? She turned her attention to Varric, he just looked surprised. But when she turned to Isabela she nearly laughed when she saw the gob smacked look on the pirate queen’s face.

Sebastian’s nostrils flared in annoyance, “I beg your pardon Hawke. I did not mean to expose you to…” his voice became quiet, trailing off a little, “such things.”

Isabela upon recovering herself responded giddily, “No apologies necessary.”

Sekhmet was barely listening to them; she was so amused by the half naked duo across the room. She couldn’t help a little giggle when the man, sounding half delirious cried out, “No the feather, use the feather!”

The elven lass stepped back, letting the man stand up. He held his arms wide, exclaiming, “Where have you been all my life?” Dramatically, he turned towards the window, like he was a king presenting himself to his subjects. “Today, I am more than a man.” He tossed a sly look back over his shoulder to the elven girl, “Come, Felicitate me.”

Sekhmet lost it and started giggling madly, “Felicitate me? Oh, Maker.”

Isabela agreed, “That’s a great line, I should use that.” She giggled, “Oh, I could get it embroidered on my blouse.”

Sebastian looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream. “He has no idea we’re here.” He turned to Sekhmet in complete disbelief, “I’ve known Ruxton Harriman my whole life. He’s a complete prude!”

Isabela was still chuckling, “That’s my kind of prude.”

“Tell me about it.” Sekhmet couldn’t help adding. Yes, okay, something was obviously wrong. But this was so deliciously comical how could she not laugh?

Ruxton, looking drugged or maybe just pleasure dazed spoke to his companion again. “Where’s your brother? Let’s ask him to join us.”

Varric coughed, “Alright, this is where I draw the line.” He turned and walked out of the room.

Sekhmet shrugged at Izzy, “He has a point, that’s kind of gross.”

Sebastian shook his head, “Let’s take a quick look around see what we find then get out of here before he really does look for her brother.”

They found another page from Flora’s diary, what it was doing scattered about the house Sekhmet had no idea. It still didn’t give them any idea of what had started the whole mess, but it did talk a little about some of the early changes that happened in the house.

Apparently, their father had been the first to succumb to whatever insanity had crept over the house. And then her brother Brett, yet her mother seemed indifferent to it all. Sekhmet put the page back down.

“I think we need to find Lady Johain. It seems she wasn’t really concerned about the changes in the house.” Sekhmet sighed tiredly.

“So you think she had something to do with it?” Sebastian asked.

“Either that, or the change in her was less pronounced so Flora didn’t really notice it while she wrote these other pages.” 

Sebastian nodded, “I hope we can straighten this out. We can’t leave these people like this.”

They searched the rest of the house as quickly and quietly as they could. They found another disturbing page from Flora’s diary about her father’s odd and seemingly incestuous behavior as well as his crass tongue. Flora had been convinced it had something to do with the wine, which reinforced Sebastian’s earlier belief but locking it up hadn’t improved the circumstances any.

Sebastian set the page down, “She came to the Chantry. I wish she would have said something. Maybe I could have helped if I had known sooner.”

“We’re helping now.” Sekhmet soothed.

“Too late to save her father, perhaps too late to save her and her siblings as well.” He mumbled.

“Giving up already?” She prodded.

His head snapped up, “No, let’s go. We need to help them, somehow.”

Good, she’d rather see the fire. The idea of Sebastian giving up was…oddly appalling to her.

They eventually found themselves in the basement and found that somehow all three of the Harriman siblings had beaten them there. They walked with an odd rolling gait; almost something you would see a prostitute use when cruising for johns. Each of their steps were synchronized, like interlinked marionettes. It was beyond creepy to watch.

Sekhmet felt tension coil inside her. Oh, she knew what the problem was now. She’d had an inkling but had really hoped she was wrong. The Harrimans were possessed. They didn’t seem to be mages, but they were possessed nonetheless.

It was Flora who spoke, “Turn back; there is nothing here for you.”

Sekhmet saw no need to play nice with demons. “Odd, when we watched you being a drunken ass, you ignored us completely.”

She felt Sebastian’s disapproving gaze on her but just shrugged. He could be annoyed if he wanted to. If he didn’t know what was going on yet she had a feeling he would in a minute or two.

Weaving, looking twice as drunk as before Flora spoke again, “You shall not enter.” 

As soon as the last word left her lips her eyes rolled back, as did those of her brothers. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, their marionette strings cut. Sebastian gasped beside her as a bright blue light flashed and standing in place of the Harrimans were a desire demon and several shades.

A short fight ensued and when it was over Sebastian looked haggard. “Demons…temptresses, we must see what greater evil they were protecting.”

He walked through the doorway they had been blocking and jogged down the steps only to slow down halfway down the stairway. “Ruins, this close to Hightown? I remember no such thing.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “So what you’re saying is that you’re remarkably well preserved for your age?”

He laughed, “Aye, maybe I am.”

“Hmm, I guess I’ll have to find your weakness and get your secret out of you.”

Isabela chimed in, “I keep telling her that pickling in alcohol is the way to go.”

“Maybe it’s my faith in the Maker that’s kept me young.” Sebastian retorted.

There was a collective groan from the other three but Sebastian just smiled and jogged down the rest of the steps. He’d barely stepped three feet off them when he was attacked by rage demons and shades. The others joined him and quickly dispatched their assailants.

“Looks like we headed the right way at least,” Varric grumbled. “Next time you invite me along let’s try to avoid the demons for once instead of chasing after them? The last time we were attacked by a bunch of demons it took me hours to get the scorch marks off poor Bianca.”

Sebastian glanced at her, “You tangle with demons a lot, do you?”

She gave a little shrug, “Some.”

“Something tells me you lead a fascinating life, Hawke.”

Sekhmet gave him a weak smile, “Or something like that.”

The ruins ran under far more than just the Harriman’s estate. They curved and turned like a labyrinth, every corner hiding more shades, demons or corpses. The group even came across a Revenant and an Arcane Horror. Sebastian was a little shocked at how little Sekhmet and her friends reacted to being attacked by such awful creatures. 

It had been a little while, but a couple of years ago days like this had been commonplace for her. She’d thought she’d left it all behind after the Deep Roads, but since the Viscount’s summons it seemed this life had come to drag her back. First the viscount, then Aveline and now Sebastian, and she knew better than to hope it stopped there.

Did she even want it to stop? Her little jobs with Isabela were all fine and good, but she could be out there helping people again. Had she completely forgotten her promise to her father? Just because Bethany was a Warden now didn’t release her from her obligation.

If anything she should be more committed. What had happened to Bethany never would have happened if her sister hadn’t been so afraid of the Templars coming for her while Sekhmet was away. It was past time to get off her ass, quit moping, and do something meaningful again.

As they strolled through yet another doorway they saw two figures standing at the far end of the room. At first glance it looked like two women, but on closer inspection it was easy to see one of them was in fact a desire demon. Her purple skin scantily clad and mottled in several places, the violet flames instead of hair casting odd shadows around her.

The woman, an older woman, likely Lady Johain Harriman, was pleading with the desire demon as they got closer. “Starkhaven will not submit. I put that idiot Goran Vael into the prince’s seat but the other families won’t heed him. I must marry him to Flora and solidify our hold, but I need more power.”

The desire demon’s voice rang out in the room, low and seductive making the hairs on the back of Sekhmet’s neck stand up. “I have given you much. Your desires run deep. You’ve already traded your husband and your children.”

Sekhmet and the others continued moving closer. The closer they got the more the desire demon’s odd tone seemed to affect Sekhmet. It was almost like a touch, a caress across her skin, sensual at first but leaving an almost greasy feeling in its path. She looked to Sebastian who stretched his neck like it needed to crack. Was he feeling the same thing? He certainly looked uncomfortable.

The desire demon must have seen them, but didn’t react. “What more can you offer?”

Sekhmet smirked, “At the Blooming Rose fifty silver is standard for a whore.” She was just another woman pedaling herself to highest bidder.

The desire demon finally turned her attention to them, eyes narrowing a little at Sekhmet, “You’ll hardly find my services standard.”

With the desire demon’s attention on her the feeling of being touched as well as the greasy after feeling intensified. No, maybe not standard, but not unique by any stretch. Demons all wanted the same things.

Lady Johain stood, looking a little panicked, “Who is this?” She cried out in her shrill voice. “Who are you? How did you get here?” And then she noticed Sebastian, her eyes went wide in shock, “Sebastian…” Fear made her voice tremble.

And Sebastian was angry, he practically growled at her. “You were my mother’s friend. How could you murder her?”

The desire demon rolled her hips seductively, “Such an ugly word. I prefer removed the only obstacle between her and her dreams.”

Sebastian, trying to hold on to the idea that a person couldn’t be so awful, seized onto the desire demon. “This was you’re idea.” He gesticulated angrily as he spoke.

The desire demon didn’t exactly smile, but it was the impression Sekhmet got when she spoke. “I could create such desires if I wished, but it’s far easier to nurture those that already exist.” Her voice dipped more, more lilting, more seductive. “The desire for power is easy to find. You and your friend both possess it do you not?” She left a weighty pause before continuing. “You both wish to rise.”

Sekhmet had heard enough. She’d not have this demoness cast aspersions about her. “Not if it meant selling out my family.” There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her family. Lady Harriman was a monster and didn’t deserve her family.

The demoness smirked, “How loyal are your friends to you?”

Sure her companions had their faults, but they’d all been pretty loyal so far. They’d kept Anders’ and Merrill’s existence a secret merely because she wished it. Aveline helped Fenris not lose his home and so did Isabela. And Varric kept an eye out for all of them; even if he didn’t quite know when to shut his mouth. He always did his best to make sure they were safe.

The desire demon continued, “Everyone has a price. Everyone wants something.”

She was right about that though. What would she give to have her family back safe and whole? What would Isabela do for a ship? And Fenris to be rid of Danarius? She didn’t know what is was that Varric wanted, but she was sure there was something he’d be willing to sell his soul for. Not that Hawke would deal with a demon. Demons lied and cheated, not to mention her father would have killed her himself.

Sebastian must have taken her silence to mean she was contemplating agreeing with the demon. He gripped her arm tightly, looking deep into her eyes. “Do not listen to her.”

She gave him a smile and nodded to reassure him.

The demon took a step closer; did she think she was going to win this argument? “Oh, such a pious soul, masking so much ambition.”

Sebastian let go of her arm and took a small step backwards looking faintly ill. Was it the demoness’ voice? Or were there darker thoughts hidden in his mind?

“Are you so different from my lady? You yearn for the same lands, the same power.”

Sebastian seemed to regain himself a bit as he glared at the demoness, “I am the rightful heir.” He gestured to Lady Harriman, “she is a usurper and murderer.”

The demoness tilted her head, like she was contemplating Sebastian. “You swore to put aside worldly goods and ambitions, but they couldn’t stop you from wanting them.”

Was Sebastian losing his nerve? He didn’t look so sure of himself now. Surely, he wasn’t really listening to the demon, was he? 

Sekhmet cocked a brow and looked at Sebastian; she was going to make a gamble. She just hoped it worked and didn’t make things worse. Perhaps, hearing it from her mouth instead of the desire demon would strike the right cord and snap him out of it. “You and Lady Harriman _are_ fighting for the same thing, aren’t you?”

Sebastian’s eyes cleared a little and he scowled at her, “Regaining my birthright is hardly the same as stealing it from another.”

Sekhmet took a deep breath calming herself down. Thank the Maker it had worked, she didn’t want to have to fight Sebastian too. She just hoped that when this was all said and done that her understood what she had been trying to do and forgave her.

The demoness, not yet realizing she had already lost pressed him again. “But you want it. You had resigned yourself to letting your brother rule. Yet now, that seat glitters before you.” She smiled at Sebastian, “You’ve always wanted it. You needn’t deny it any longer. All you have to do is kill anyone in your way.”

And for the first time it seemed like Lady Harriman woke up. She flashed a shocked look at the demoness then pulled the staff from her back, bearing her teeth at Sebastian like a feral animal. Sebastian pulled off his bow, but instead of aiming it at Lady Harriman he went straight for the desire demon.

The fight was much longer and tougher than the others in the ruins. Lady Harriman fought viciously not just for her life, but to the hope she could still have Starkhaven. When it was over Sebastian scrubbed his hand down over his face and let out a long tired sigh.

Sekhmet gestured for the others to leave the room and walked over to where he stood looking uneasily at the remains of Lady Harriman. “Sebastian, I just wanted to…”

He nodded before she finished, “I know.” He straightened up and faced her. “I know what you were doing; you’re too smart to fall for a demon’s tricks. As for me? I don’t know. Maybe I let my need for revenge blind me a little bit. I’d like to think I wasn’t losing my senses. But come, let’s get out of here. I want to get back to the Chantry and pray for Lady Harriman’s soul. Perhaps the Maker can forgive her, while I try to.”

They headed out of the ruins only to be stopped by Flora Harriman in the basement. Sebastian watched her warily as they got closer. Sekhmet waited to see if the madness had lifted. 

As she recognized Sebastian Flora’s face crumpled and a deep sadness overtook her, “Sebastian,” his name was a plea on her lips. “I am so, so…” she looked around, clearly realizing nothing she said would be enough to convey what she meant. “Sorry is such an inadequate word.”

She still couldn’t look Sebastian in the eye as she continued, “When I think what mother made us do. What those creatures mad us do.”

It wasn’t enough for Sebastian, who let his anger seep into his voice, “We were friends, Flora.”

And then came the excuses, “It was like a cloud came down on me. All I could feel or think was what the demon allowed.”

While she was disgusted with the woman’s pathetic excuses she still wanted to know what exactly had happened. “Did your mother order the attack on Sebastian’s family?” Or maybe the demon had made her do that as well?

Flora gave her an almost disdainful look but answered her question, “She did,” she immediately turned her attention back to Sebastian. “You know mother, Sebastian. She was always jealous of your parents. The demon twisted that until it was all she could think of. She was determined to seize Starkhaven for herself.”

Sebastian just watched her stoically.

Sekhmet wondered if he had any idea how much Flora cared for him. Maybe the young Harriman woman had designs on Sebastian at one time. Whether she did or not didn’t matter now. Even if Sebastian didn’t stay in the Chantry Flora would always be the daughter of the woman who’d had his whole family slaughtered. Maybe it was even Flora’s influence that had saved Sebastian’s life.

One other thing was bothering Sekhmet though, “Was your mother a mage? I mean, how did she find the demon?”

“We’ve never had magic in our line.” Flora seemed calmer as she spoke, the shock starting to wear off a little. “Perhaps that made her too confident. She thought she could deal with the demon and not fall prey to it. Those ruins there were unearthed when we expanded the house.” She took a deep breath, “Mother found the demon inside. I think she had signed her bargain before we even knew.”

Sekhmet snorted, “Convenient excuse. You get all the debauchery and none of the blame?”

Isabela piped up behind her, “Wish I was so lucky.”

Flora didn’t take too kindly to the insinuation, “Do not suggest that I did this by choice.”

Sebastian had been scowling at Sekhmet but turned his attention back to Flora, “It’s a demon of desire, Flora, not coercion. It can’t tempt you with anything you truly don’t want.”

Flora raised her chin a little, defiantly. “If it takes every last coin my family owns I will make reparations to everyone we’ve wronged.” Her voice gentled again, as did her eyes, “Starting with you Sebastian. We weren’t the only ones vying for Starkhaven. If you face more opposition you have my support.”

His gaze on her finally softened, “It will not make up for what happened.”

Flora gave a faint nod, “No, that’s true.”

Sebastian accepted anyways, “I’ll tell you when I need you.” With that he walked past her, clearly wanting out of the house as soon as possible.

Outside, in Hightown he stopped and took a deep breath. She paused beside him and let Varric and Isabela pass them. It was several seconds before he spoke and she did her best to wait patiently.

“I’m not sure if I’m relieved or even more upset.” He finally revealed.

“Knowing isn’t always better. On the bright side we saved the three of them from possession for the rest of their lives.” It was weak but it was all she had.

“There’s that.”

“So, how long has Flora been sweet on you?” She flashed him a cheeky smile.

He chuckled a little, “Since she was in pinafores.”

“At least some things never change.”

His smile was a little shaky, “Maker bless you, Hawke.” He took a deep breath, “I mean it. Thank you, for everything. I need to get back to the Chantry, try to sort some this out in my head. Let me know if you need anything. I think I’d like to travel with you, if you’d let me.”

“I’ll see you, Sebastian. Take care of yourself.” On the spur of the moment she gave him a hug. Maybe it was his own affection nature that prompted her, or just the heartbroken look on his face. He hugged her back fiercely though and it was nice. 

When he let her go she wandered off, leaving him to the quiet he obviously needed.

********

The next day she’d planned on heading to the Gallows to talk with Emeric, find out exactly what was going on. First she wanted to check in on Sebastian. He’d seemed pretty wrecked when she left him yesterday. So as soon as she was dressed she headed to the Chantry.

Sekhmet found Sebastian sitting in a pew his arms slung over the pew in front of him, his head hanging down between his arms. She slid into the pew to sit next to him. Sebastian sighed and sat up. “I had hoped that prayer would cleanse me of the desire demon’s touch.”

“Don’t let her make you doubt yourself.”

“You don’t know what she stirred in me.”

Sekhmet smirked at him. “You would be surprised, Sebastian. I am no bastion of selflessness.”

Sebastian scowled “But you are good, you help people everyday.”

“So do you.”

Sebastian sat back against the pew and gave her a small smile. “You would stay here and argue with me until I agreed with you, wouldn’t you.”

“I would, and will. You had a chance to take her offer and you refused her. No one feels clean after dealing with a demon.”

“Must make life difficult for Anders.”

Sekhmet winced, “Who told you about him?”

His voice became a bit quieter. “Varric might have said something to me.” 

She nodded, but didn’t respond.

Sebastian let out a long sigh, “Ah. Must be hard to hear people talk about the man you love like that.”

She turned to him, surprised. Had Varric told Sebastian that?

He patted her arm affectionately. “It was the look on your face. So does this…intriguing man have any idea of how lucky he is?”

“We don’t…I,” She chuckled nervously. “It doesn’t matter.”

He looked at her sympathetically but didn’t say anything. It was probably better that way. She looked away, lost to the odd grief over losing something she’d never really had in the first place. The strange silence stretched out between them. Eventually, they both relaxed and Sebastian turned to her with a smile.

He gave her a playful nudge. “So what power do you desire?”

“The power to see through clothing.” She giggled.

“Hawke!” Sebastian said, clearly trying to sound scandalized but he had a mischievous gleam in his eye. He might play Choir Boy but deep down she’d already figured out Sebastian was almost as irreverent as she was.

Sekhmet gave a dramatic sigh, “The power to affect real change. The power to make Thedas a better place for my sister. The power to stop bad things before they happen.” She sighed and her voice became very quiet. “The power to bring Carver back. The power to save papa.” She felt tears in her eyes and blinked them back.

Sebastian took her hand in his, “Hawke, if you ever need a friend I’m always here for you.”

She gave him a weak smile as a tear escaped. “It’s just hard to keep it all inside sometimes.” She shrugged and wiped away another tear, “And then I leak.”

“Perhaps you need to get it out.”

“You’re not getting a confession from me, Sebastian.”

He gave her a small smile, “Would you like to have some tea and perhaps a walk in the garden? I feel like some air.”

She stood and followed him, silent as they poured themselves some tea and strolled in the garden. At the end of the garden was a small bench. The two of them sat, drinking their tea, and enjoying the silence. The breeze wafted through soothingly, the smell of jasmine lightly lingering in the air.

Sebastian finished his tea and set his cup on the ground next to him. “So, where did you learn to fight?”

“I taught myself. I was, I don’t know, ten maybe? I decided I wanted to be able to protect myself and my family if I needed to.”

“Because you were always on the run from the Templars?”

Sekhmet nodded but did not elaborate. The silence began to feel uncomfortable and Sekhmet spoke up, “What about you? Where did you learn to use the bow?”

“I taught myself. My grandfather suggested it, I was terrible at swordplay.” He shook his head smiling. “I used to practice obsessively for hours and hours, everyday.”

“Me too. I felt compelled, like if I didn’t learn it something terrible would happen. Weird, right?”

“Perhaps it was a suggestion from the Maker.”

Sekhmet snorted.

“I’m not preaching, I’m making a statement.”

“So tell me about your grandfather.”

Sebastian smiled fondly when he started speaking.

*******

“Look how dark it is. Have we been talking all day?” Sebastian looked surprised.

“Explains why my throat is so sore. Would now be a good time to tell you I talk a lot?”

Sebastian chuckled, “It was nice, I don’t really get to have conversations with people that aren’t about religion or politics.”

“Let’s make a pact.”

Sebastian mulled it over for a minute. “Alright, what pact would you like to make?”

“When we get together like this, as friends, no religion or politics.”

“I like that idea.” He held out his hand and Sekhmet took it. 

They shook hands briefly before Sekhmet stood up and stretched. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon Sebastian.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” He walked with her through the Chantry. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Sekhmet scowled, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“As you wish, Hawke.” He watched her walk down the steps anyways. As she reached the bottom he called out to her. “You’re going to have to go to him and make it right, you know.”

Her steps paused briefly, but she didn’t respond. Then, as if nothing happened, she started walking away again. As she disappeared from his sight he turned around and moved back into the Chantry. His heart felt a lot lighter than it had earlier that afternoon when Hawke had found him. Her easy smiles and light humor had worked to scrub the filth of the desire demon’s words from him.

He descended the steps to his room quickly. There was a book waiting for him there and he was looking forward to reading it before retiring for the evening. It had been so long since Sebastian had made a real friend, not just a brother or sister in the Chantry he had forgotten how pleasant it was to just sit and visit sometimes.

*********

Sekhmet was humming as she made her way back to the estate. Her afternoon with Sebastian had been quite a pleasant surprise. Although she had wanted to check on him she had not been looking forward to a sermon from him.

Dealing with Sebastian in neutral territory had been nice. He had no expectations, no demands; there was no sexual tension, unrequited love and no ulterior motive, at least not now that his family situation had been dealt with. It had pained and saddened her when she had realized that he was the only one she knew that she could truly say that didn’t want or need something from her.

And though she wasn’t ready to share everything with him, she had felt more relaxed with him than she had felt in months, maybe years. Much as she hated to admit it, the Chantry was a good fit for Sebastian; he had a calming air about him. He was relaxed in his body and his surroundings. 

She envied his ability to surrender to the Maker; surely life would be easier if you could just put your fate in the Maker’s hands with complete faith that all would work out as it should. Sekhmet had a feeling she had been fighting too long to ever relinquish control like that, she truly hoped Sebastian didn’t lose his faith because of their friendship.

She smiled as she reached the door, _“He’s a truly good man, not too many of those left in the world.”_ Slipping inside she was accosted almost immediately by her mother.

“Where have you been all day? You said you were only going out for an hour or two.” Her mother’s face was etched with worry lines.

“Sorry mother. I was with Sebastian; we were talking in the garden at the Chantry. I just lost track of time.”

Her mother stopped and turned to her, “Sebastian, as in the Prince of Starkhaven?”

Sekhmet almost laughed at her mother’s hopeful look. “Yes, he will be prince if he chooses to take back his lands. He hasn’t decided yet. Don’t get any ideas though, we’re just friends.”

Mother gave a little shrug, “Marriages have been based on less. You should at least consider it darling. We could have him over for dinner later this week if you like.”

Sekhmet sighed, “No. I have no plans to marry, mother. And I’ll not have you involving Sebastian in any of your schemes.”

Her mother sighed, “One day, you’ll realize how empty the world is without someone at your side.”

She didn’t bother responding. She didn’t even really have a response to that. Her mother was likely right. Wasn’t that the annoying thing about mothers? No matter how much you wanted to prove them wrong, they were usually right.


	29. Sour Notes

She stood outside his door, her heart aching; missing him, wanting him, as it always did. Her head was angry, snarling at her, demanding to know why they were standing here ready to put themselves back into harm’s way. Ready to put herself back into the same situation where she wanted, yearned and desired only to have her heart broken again and again. And her body…it was just plain weary, tired of the whole war.

The lamps were doused and the doors were shut, a very odd occurrence in the middle of the day. Or perhaps it wasn’t so odd anymore, a lot could have happened in the years she had stayed away. She raised her hand as if to knock but instead her fingers just barely brushed the door. She trailed her fingertips over the rough grain of the wood, almost like a caress. Why, oh why was she here?

Yes, okay Sebastian had said something to her, but it had been made mostly in passing. Was that enough to send her running back to his door? Besides, Sebastian didn’t know the whole story. Would he still have suggested reconciliation if he knew how she ended up broken hearted again and again each time Anders rebuffed her? Would he still think it wise if he knew how deeply her feelings for Anders truly ran? She had the sneaking suspicion it wasn’t exactly love, not in the way most people understood it.

She gently touched her forehead to the door and traced her fingers over it again. “Anders,” his name was a soft whisper on her lips. This stupid aching in her chest redoubled at the sound, how could she still miss him this much after so long? She sighed heavily, “You don’t even want me, so why won’t you give my heart back?”

She stayed like that for another minute, torn between knocking and leaving. Eventually, she decided she wasn’t ready yet. His door was closed for a reason and she took it as a sign that it wasn’t time to reconcile with him. Maybe it never would be. The most she could hope for were his skills at her side and constant heartache. 

Slowly, she turned away from the door. There were more important things she should be doing today anyways. Emeric still waited to hear from her in the Gallows. She’d swing by the Hanged Man and see if either Varric or Izzy were interested in a little adventure.

********

She’d nearly spotted him when she turned around. He’d quickly withdrawn into the shadows, thankful he’d managed to pick up a couple things from ‘Reyna and Zev, even at his height. The sight of her standing at his door had frozen him in his tracks.

He’d stood staring at her, watching her odd behavior. She’d never even knocked for him. So why bother to come at all if she hadn’t wanted to see him? Perhaps she’d needed something from him, something she’d been embarrassed to ask for.

_“Serves her right.”_ He thought bitterly. He worried that his eyes might have been glowing, that Justice might have given them away, but apparently the pain of seeing her had been enough to blunt the sharpest of his dual layers of anger. He stared into her retreating form, holding himself very still when she paused and canted her head as if she were listening for something. Had she felt his stare? 

Soon enough she was on her way again, and when he was sure she couldn’t see him he stepped into the light and quickly jogged to his clinic, shutting and locking the door behind him. He needed to find a safe way to vent his anger. His head felt like it was splitting open from the cacophony within. 

He stomped to his desk, puffs of dust billowing from each footfall, before yanking open the top drawer. He’d burn the sketches; it was symbolic and would be satisfying. He picked up the stack and stalked to the fire. He paused, looking at the first one. The ache in his chest grew, chipping away at his anger. 

He closed his eyes, replaying his day in his head to bolster his resolve. Varric had sent a messenger saying there was a problem with Hawke. Anders had practically shoved his patients out the door and run to the Hanged Man. Only to find Hawke hadn’t even been there. 

Just Varric who had nodded at him gravely, “You need to take a seat, Blondie.” 

Anders had lowered himself into the nearest chair. “Mind telling me why you dragged me out of my clinic when there wasn’t even an emergency?” 

“I had good reason,” Varric settled himself across from Anders. “I have no idea what happened between you and Hawke. She won’t tell me, just gives me cold stares. Whatever it was, you both need to get over it. We need our healer again.” He took a deep breath his eyes suddenly very intense. “And Hawke needs you.” 

“Did you really drag me up here just to tell me to play nice with Hawke?” Anders was annoyed but Justice was angry. He was still furious with Hawke for her crass letter and for kicking them out of her life. Justice had just begun trying to understand Hawke instead of resenting her when they’d been summarily cut from her life like so much chaff. 

“The girl’s got a new beau…and let’s just say,” Varric grimaced in distaste, “I don’t exactly think they belong together. He’s all wrong for her.”

Anders felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. She was seeing another man? He’d just gotten over being angry and jealous over her little romp with Fenris a few months ago. While he was suffering and alone she was out taking lovers. He knew he should be happy for her, that she was getting the normal life he had wished for her. 

The problem was all he could feel right now was a monstrous wave of jealousy. It was completely foreign and made him feel a bit sick. Another man was holding her, running his fingers through that white hair, touching that alabaster skin. Another man was enjoying her touches and her taste. While he pined and craved, another man was enjoying her laughter and smiles. 

Which all just wound Justice up more, he didn’t understand exactly what Anders was feeling but he understood Anders was in pain. And whenever Anders was in pain Justice wanted to destroy whatever had caused the pain. He roared in Anders’ mind wanting…wanting…Vengeance. 

Anders closed his eyes, hand moving to his stomach as a wave of nausea overtook him. 

“Uh, Blondie, you’re glowing.” Varric sounded nervous. 

Anders just nodded his head, free hand clutching the table as he fought against Justice. Andraste’s tits he’d never felt such raw fury. His heart galloped in his chest, his head throbbed in pain. He took slow breaths through his nose, exhaling slowly through his mouth and begged Justice to calm down. 

He could feel Justice’s spirit fire licking along his skin, pulsing. He was thankful he’d closed Varric’s door behind him when he entered. Otherwise the entire tavern would be seeing the light show, not just his skin cracking open with light seeping through, but his entire body ablaze in blue flames. 

Varric had backed his chair up; Anders could feel him sitting against the wall. He could even feel the speeding beat of his dwarven heart. Poor man probably regretted sending for him now. Anders almost laughed, but he needed to focus, to get Justice back under control, put the monster back in its box.

He had no idea how long he sat there fighting Justice. Eventually, the spirit subsided and Anders’ body returned to normal. Slowly, he opened his eyes peering at Varric who seemed both repulsed and fascinated. 

>Varric swallowed thickly, “Does that hurt?” 

Anders shook his head, “The physical things don’t hurt. It’s trying to control him that’s painful.” 

“I didn’t mean to upset you so much.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Sure you did. You just didn’t know it would happen here.” 

Varric was very still for a long time before he let out a sigh, “Fair enough.” 

Fatigue swept over Anders, as it always did after a fight with Justice for control. “So, this man that’s all wrong for her, what’s he like?” 

“He’s a brother in the Chantry.” 

Anders frowned, cutting Varric off before he could go any further. “You’re worried about a Chantry brother? With her mouth I’m sure it’ll be over in short order, she’ll offend his delicate sensibilities.” 

Varric shook his head, “No, it’s not like that. He might be leaving the Chantry. It’s that Starkhaven prince, the Vael boy. He renounced his vows to avenge his family.” 

This just kept getting better and better. He needed to get his shit together and be happy for her that she’d found someone worthy of her. Someone who could love her openly, could take care of her and treat her like she deserved to be treated. Even without Justice, Anders had nothing to offer the girl but misery and heartache. “So, she found herself a prince, I’m failing to see the problem.” _“Other than my broken heart, of course.”_

Varric shook his head a little, “I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him.” 

Anders snorted, “You don’t trust anyone.” 

Varric scowled, “That’s not true, I trust Hawke.” 

“Apparently not, you’ve called me here because you don’t trust her taste in men.” 

Varric smiled a little. “Let’s be honest, she doesn’t have the best track record.”

Anders didn’t bother to reply, mainly because he agreed with Varric. The woman had the worst taste in men; he was living proof as was the heart-ripping ex-slave she’d dallied with. He briefly thought of tracking this Vael down and trying to discern for himself how bad he would be for Hawke, but quickly put the thought aside. It was none of his business. 

“I’d rather see her with you.” Varric added, quietly. 

Anders chuckled darkly, “He must be some piece of work if you’d rather see her with a possessed mage who occasionally tries to kill her.” 

>Varric looked away, “I didn’t forget about what you did to her. I’ll never forget that. Hawke just…she seems to so desperately need someone, to not be alone… and that I understand. Her prince would kill who she is, would strip away the most vital parts of her. He’d turn her into one of those creepy mages, what are they called? The tranquil? 

“He’d make her tranquil, stripped of all her colors, all her dreams. He’d destroy everything we adore about her. I’d rather see her dead than see that happen to her. I thought if anyone could understand that, Blondie, you would.” The dwarf had leveled his gaze on Anders, pinning him with his stare. 

This was Varric wheeling and dealing, underhanded or not. Oh, the man was genial, a fantastic storyteller, always with a smile and a tale. This though…this was the real Varric, the one he hid from the masses. Varric the master manipulator, the puppetmaster, so skilled at his craft his puppets had no idea they had strings attached. 

Anders realized he was only getting half the story. Something else was going on but Varric wasn’t about to share it with him. And the story didn’t matter anyway. Hawke wanted Anders out of her life. She’d only let him back in for the brief stint with the poison gas because the others refused to help her otherwise. And she’d gotten rid of him, sending him back to Darktown, as soon as she could when it was all over. 

He shook his head, “You’re on your own Varric. I’m not interfering in the woman’s life.” 

Varric’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared briefly, “Is the idea of being with her really that terrible? I’ve done some digging, Anders. And based on what I’ve learned it seems Hawke’s the only woman you’ve ever turned away from your bed. Or maybe you’re running scared because you actually feel something for her?” 

Anders’ anger flared to life anew, “My life if none of your damn business, Varric.” He’d pushed out of the chair and left the tavern, heading back to his clinic, where he’d nearly run into Hawke. And now here he stood in front of the fire, the sketches still clutched in his hand. He sighed, suddenly exhausted. 

Sometimes he had no idea how he kept going day after day. Giving up on the idea he might be able to part with his sketches he returned them to their drawer in his desk. He lowered himself into his chair and looked around the clinic. He didn’t feel like trying to help the underground today or even reopening his clinic. 

He still hadn’t touched his manifesto in two years, the pages stuffed into another drawer of his desk. Today would be no different. It would sit there, untouched and unfinished. Justice could complain all he wanted, but Anders was feeling aimless and frustrated. He’d fritter away the rest of the day on small menial tasks like making new batches of health poultices, grinding elfroot and various other odd jobs. 

******** 

Emeric was pleased to see her; the look of relief on his face was immediate. He even flashed a triumphant look at another Templar; a middle aged woman who seemed to be watching him like a hawk. The older Templar had apparently somehow won himself a babysitter since she last saw him. 

It didn’t take long to find out exactly how that happened. He told her the tale of how he had found a suspect and had coaxed the guards into checking out his residence all to no avail. And the first flickers of anger marred his aged features as he told her about being reprimanded by Knight Commander Meredith who had then forbid him from further investigation. 

>Hawke had teased him a little about being a thorn in Aveline’s side and he had taken the ribbing good naturedly enough. And when she gave an overdramatic sigh of resignation complaining that everyone always wanted her to fix everything he’d made a smart remark of his own, claiming she only had herself to blame, being the city’s most famous troublemaker. Perhaps he had a point.

She promised him to look into it right away, at nightfall as he suggested. He gave her a warm smile as he thanked her. Unable to resist, she dropped an exaggerated bow to Ser Emeric’s Templar babysitter, which earned a warm chuckle from Emeric even as his babysitter glared at her. 

She left the Gallows and headed back to the Hanged Man. Both Isabela and Varric were more than happy to help her, neither one of them had wanted to make the trip out to the Gallows though. Not that she could blame them, she would have skipped the trip herself if she could have. With both of them in tow she headed to the Chantry. 

Varric groaned from behind her, “Haven’t we seen enough of your latest charity case this week?”

"Ignore him sweetie, I can’t wait to see your delicious little prince again.” Izzy purred.

“You’re going to have to get used to Sebastian, Varric. If I’m going to be doing work like this again, and you plan on coming along you’ll be seeing a lot of him.” She didn’t like arguing with Varric, he was one of the few people in Kirkwall who didn’t drive her up a wall.

Varric snorted, “At least until he says or does something to upset you and then he’ll be exiled like Fenris and Anders.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe his nerve.

He gave a heavy sigh, “Nothing, forget I said anything and go get your little Chantry prince.”

She watched him for a moment, debating on pushing the issue to see exactly what he meant but dusk was upon them and she wanted to get on with this job as quickly as she could. Varric and Isabela waited outside while she went in for Sebastian. He was standing on the dias being lectured by the Grand Cleric when she walked up the steps.

A look of sheer relief washed over his face when he saw her. She smiled back and walked to stand next to him. “Grand Cleric, how nice to see you this evening. Do you think I could possibly borrow Sebastian? I’m in need of his talents.”

The Grand Cleric sighed dramatically, “More violence I suppose?”

“I hope not, I’m assisting the city guard with an investigation. I thought maybe a face from the Chantry could smooth the process. Although, I admit if things do go sour it would be nice to know Sebastian can handle himself.” She tried hard to look earnest, to not grin or giggle and surprisingly managed to succeed.

The Grand Cleric gave a faint nod. Sebastian took Sekhmet’s elbow and quickly led her off the dias. He kept a straight face until the Chantry doors had thudded loudly shut behind them. His laugh started quiet and slowly bubbled up into outright guffaws.

“Oh Hawke, you shouldn’t lie to her like that. It’s just so…so wrong!” His laughter trailed off into a few chuckles.

She smiled back and shrugged, “It wasn’t _exactly_ a lie. We _are_ helping the guard with an investigation. It _will_ be nice to know you can handle yourself. And who knows, maybe a face from the Chantry _could_ help.”

“Well whatever we’re doing it has to be better than the last hour and half I just spent with Elthina. She’s very disappointed with me. She just found out that Lady Johain Harriman is dead.” He was quiet now, a haunted look passing over his features briefly before he noticed Isabela and Varric walking towards them. 

His lips curved up into a soft smile as he nodded to Varric, “Hello Varric,” before dipping a somewhat shallow bow to Izzy, “Isabela.”

Isabela smiled wide, “Hello, prince.”

While Varric muttered, “prat,” mostly under his breath.

If Sebastian heard him he ignored it and turned his attention back to Sekhmet as they walked down the stairs, “So tell me about this job?”

She filled him in, finishing just a few minutes before they reached Gascard Dupuis’ mansion. She didn’t bother to knock; afterall they were hoping to catch the man doing something shady. The four of them had barely made in a dozen steps into the place when they were attacked for the first time, shades appearing from every corner and shadow. 

And while Sebastian still seemed surprised by the shades it didn’t stop him from attacking and killing them quickly. Sekhmet found herself enjoying the fight. She wasn’t worried about Sebastian, now that she knew he could handle himself. And after the last few days she felt back in the swing of things. Sure she’d gotten into small fights while working with Isabela, but they were rarely more dangerous than your average bar fight.

She was looking forward to dealing with Dupuis as well. Kirkwall might not consider her one of its own, but it was her home now. She wouldn’t just sit back while some man kidnapped and killed women. She was just glad Ser Emeric had cared enough to investigate when no one else had.

As the fight wound down to a close Varric walked over to her, it was hard to read what he was thinking when he spoke. “Emeric’s right, Gascard’s trying to hide something.” 

“No shit,” this from Isabela, “Come take a look at this.” She held up a letter.

Sekhmet quickly skimmed it, unease growing in the pit of her stomach. The letter thanked Gascard for a shipment, but didn’t specify what the shipment was. Even more disturbing it spoke of an artifact that had been sent for payment. It cautioned Gascard to use care, stating the creatures could be difficult for control even for an experienced mage. Did Gascard have some kind of artifact that gave him control over the shades or were there worse things hiding in the depths of the mansion?

“Your friend? That’s not ominous or anything.” Isabela quipped, alluding to the lack of a signature on the mysterious letter.

“Not that we’re not always careful, but I think we need to be especially on alert here, guys. And I think it’s a pretty safe bet to assume that dear Gascard is a mage.” Sekhmet added.

They ran into small pockets of shades as they moved throughout the house. Sebastian found a sternly worded letter from the First Enchanter of the Starkhaven circle admonishing Gascard for inquiring about a mage. It seemed he thought that perhaps the mage was missing from the circle. She had no idea why Gascard would have contacted the circle looking for a missing mage.

Varric at least had a supposition. “Perhaps Gascard was looking for help from another mage.”

“Yeah, but help with what?” Sebastian countered.

No one seemed to have an answer and the longer they were in the mansion the more uneasy Sekhmet began to feel. Through another doorway and down a short hallways she stopped short. Magic hung in the air, thick, too sweet, and almost familiar. She slowly pushed open the door but found no one inside.

On a table, on the far side of the room, she saw several bottles of dark red liquid that glittered strangely. The odd magic clung to them heavily. She reached out and touched one of the bottles and found it warm, it pulsed at her touch. Immediately, she drew her hand away and struggled not to retch.

“What is it?” Varric asked as he stepped closer.

“Blood magic.”

“Phylacteries,” Sebastian replied at the same time.

Sekhmet’s stomach knotted, “Who do you suppose they’re for?”

He shook his head, “I have no idea. I’ve just seen a few at the Chantry.”

“Someone want to fill me in?” Varric was starting to sound irritated.

“Phylacteries are what Templars use to track mages.” Isabela answered, surprising everyone. When everyone turned to look at her she gave a small shrug, “Most mages would pay a small fortune to get their hands on their phylacteries.”

Sebastian was appalled, “You’ve stolen phylacteries?”

Izzy shrugged, “Let’s just say I know what I’m looking at. Look at the bottom, usually there’s some sort of label or inscription to say who it belongs to.”

Sekhmet stepped away from the table. “I can’t touch it again, you take a look.”

Isabela nodded, “I understand. They kind of feel alive when you touch them.” She stepped forward and flipped the bottles over. Unfortunately, none of them had any indication of who they belonged to. “I suppose that was too much to hope for.”

“Alright, let’s see what else we can find. I need to get out of this room.” Sekhmet strode from the room quickly not caring if the others thought she was weak. The magic hanging in the air was bad enough, but the feeling of the phylacteries was still crawling across her skin. 

She jogged up the steps and to the end of the hall where the door was standing open a crack. She waited for the others to join her before she pushed the door open. It was empty but for several beds, a chest and a couple dressers. Sekhmet had been about to leave the room when Varric stopped her.

“What’s with this room? Doesn’t it seem a little strange for a man living alone to have a room set up like this?” He gestured around the room.

She shrugged, “Maybe it’s a guest room.”

He grunted and turned to a chest standing in the corner. A small piece of fabric was sticking out of it, powder blue with pale pink flowers on it. “This seem like Gascard’s style to you?”

Isabela crouched in front of the chest and started picking the lock, “You never know. I once knew a man who wore his wife’s clothing.” She sighed fondly as the lock clicked open, “He had so much fun with it.” She pulled the top of the chest open as she stood up.

Immediately visible inside were at least three different distinctly feminine fabrics. Varric pulled a couple pieces out and held them up. “So what is a bachelor doing with women’s clothing in several different sizes?”

“You think they’re like mementos or trophies? Like something to remember his victims by?” They’d come back for the clothing once they had found Gascard and gotten rid of him. Perhaps Aveline would be able to track down who the clothing belonged to and maybe manage to give the families some kind of closure.

“This is one sick fuck, Hawke.” Varric snarled as he shoved the clothes back into the trunk.

“I say we cut the bastard’s balls off.” Isabela piped in.

Right now, Sekhmet kind of agreed. They just had to find him first. “Well, then let’s go find him and put an end to this.”

At the opposite end of the hall they encountered a locked door. It only took Sekhmet a few moments to unlock it. She strode into the room with her companions on her heels and saw two people. A terrified looking woman, kneeling at the feet of a man, dressed in noble clothing with a staff strapped to his back. Had they caught Gascard in the act? 

The woman called out to them pitifully, “Help me, please. He’s gone mad.”

Gascard turned towards them, a triumphant smile on his lips for a moment. A smile that quickly melted into anxiety when he caught sight of Hawke and the others. He stammered a little as he spoke, “You’re not…” He stopped and started again, more calmly, less incredulously. “You’re not him.” His anxiety became almost palpable as he spoke. “Shit, I know what this looks like, but I…I didn’t hurt her.”

Sekhmet was feeling angry and mean, “Bullshit, look at her, she’s terrified.”

“You don’t understand, someone is after her. I had to keep her safe. I don’t know why you’re here but there’s a killer out there and I think he’s playing us both. Just…just let me explain.” He spoke very calmly up until the last sentence.

“You’ve got sixty seconds to see if you can talk yourself out of this.” She snapped.

Varric chuckled, “Twenty silver if he says ‘it wasn’t me, it was the one armed man’.”

Isabela snickered behind her but quickly fell quiet when Gascard started to talk.

He paced back and forth not looking at Sekhmet or the others at all. “Several years ago my sister was murdered. The bastard’s now in Kirkwall killing again, the same way he killed my sister.” He finally turned back to her but his face was very placid and calm. “It starts with a bouquet of white lilies. He sends them to each new victim.”

His gaze wandered to the woman still kneeling on the floor looking terrified. “Alessa was going to be next. I took her so he’d have to come to me.” Sighing a little he continued, “I was finally going to face my sister’s killer, but then you showed up.” He rubbed his forehead as if trying to ward off a headache.

Alessa screeched at them, “He’s lying, he hurt me.”

Gascard turned to her, annoyance marring his features briefly before he squatted in front of her and spoke curtly. “I’ve explained this. I need your blood to track you down if he took you. It’s for your protection.”

Alessa suddenly jerked away from him and surged to her feet, she dashed across the room nearly falling as she cried out, “Let go of me.”

Gascard stood and faced Sekhmet again, anger simmering. “She’ll go straight to the city guard, they’ll ruin everything.”

Varric scowled, “Can’t you just tell the city guard what you just told us?”

Gascard sneered, “Why? I don’t want him arrested. This isn’t about justice. I need to be the one to bleed him dry. Besides, they probably won’t even hear me out, not after that damned raid.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with the man’s story. “So, tell me, who killed your sister?” Sekhmet prompted.

Gascard didn’t hesitate. “A powerful and experienced blood mage. I believe he uses the women for some ritual. His victims are attractive, healthy women with few social ties” 

That was an awful lot of specific information. How did Gascard know it was a blood mage that killed his sister? Even if she was killed during a blood magic ritual how would Gascard know that the blood mage was powerful and experienced?

She pushed him a little to see how he would react, “Emeric was certain you were the killer.”

Gascard was disgusted, “Of course he was, but I was trying to find the killer just like him. Our paths crossed and he just assumed I was the murderer.”

The man was lying through his teeth. “You really did make yourself a target though, kidnapping people and all.”

Another quick sneer from Gacard before he replied, “I suppose that’s fair.”

Sebastian took a small step forward, “I could report you to the Templars for blood magic.”

Another flicker of fear before a not very convincing shame faced confession. “Yes, I’ve used blood magic and lyrium to augment my powers. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I had to. He took my sister from me.”

Sebastian shook his head. “He’s lying.” 

She nodded, “I know.”

Gascard snarled at them like a cornered animal. “No, I’ve worked too hard. It can’t end like this.”

Gascard quickly summoned several shades before quickly retreating from the room and using magic to seal the door. He really couldn’t have been a very strong mage because as soon as Sekhmet and her companions had killed all the shades the magic barrier dissipated. Gascard led them through the house in the same manner, summoning shades, abominations and demons and throwing up magical seals over the doors.

Eventually, they caught up with him before he could slip from the room. Hawke streaked across the room and killed him quickly before dealing with the creatures he had summoned. Once everything had been dispatched she looked through Gascard’s clothes to see if he had anything on him that could have been the artifact referred to in the letter. Unfortunately, she didn’t find anything.

Varric had walked over to her while she was rifling through the dead man’s clothes. “What if he was really just looking for revenge for his dead sister?” 

“He wasn’t.” Sebastian didn’t hesitate to respond.

Varric furrowed his brow in mild confusion. “How can you both be so sure?”

Sekhmet looked to Sebastian to see if he would answer but he turned away and walked to the doorway to wait for them. “We can both be so sure because we’ve both lost siblings, we’ve both wanted revenge for it.”

“So, he was better at hiding his emotions. Big deal.”

“But he wasn’t, Varric. He was worried when we showed up. He was irritated when the girl, Alessa escaped. He was angry when we didn’t believe him.” She wondered if Varric was really upset that she had killed Gascard or if he was just irritated that she agreed with Sebastian.

Varric smiled a little, “I suppose you’re right. The only time I’ve ever wanted revenge was against my own brother. Very different circumstances.”

Before they left Gascard’s mansion Sekhmet went back to the room with the phylacteries and broke every one of them by smashing them to bits inside the fire place, letting the fire destroy the rest. With that done they quickly left and headed to the Gallows to give Emeric the news. 

Isabela and Varric even decided to tag along. Sekhmet smiled to herself. Funny how they were willing to go once the job was done and there were accolades and coin to be had.

She was surprised not to see Ser Emeric anywhere about when she arrived at the Gallows. His Templar babysitter was still there. As a matter of fact she was approaching Sekhmet quickly with a scowl. 

She suddenly stopped short, “Aren’t you Hawke? Emeric left not long ago, he said you’d arranged to meet tonight.”

Sekhmet glanced at Varric confused, “Did I tell you anything about this?”

Varric shook his head no.

The templar’s frown deepened, “Don’t you remember sending this message?” She handed the parchment to Sekhmet.

Sekhmet skimmed over it, the handwriting was clearly not hers and its request to meet after dark in some alley unknown to her made her feel anxious. “I didn’t send this.”

The Templar stepped back a little, her face softening a little. “You didn’t? Strange.”

Varric shook his head, “That’s not a good sign.”

“Well I don’t know.” The Templar gave a bit of a shrug, writing the whole incident off, “Emeric’s been acting strangely for months. It’s probably just a misunderstanding.”

“Are you serious? You’re not even going to look into this and make sure he’s alright?” Sekhmet was appalled, the poor man. No one seemed interested in his thoughts or his welfare.

“As I said he’s been acting strangely for months. It’s probably nothing.” 

Sekhmet grit her teeth and turned to leave. “Varric, I want you to put out feelers, see if you can track him down. Izzy, check out the alley, see if he’s there already for some reason. Check the place out, let me know what the best way to approach it is and if there are any hidden surprises. I’m going to talk to Aveline. If someone is after Emeric then women might still be in danger. I’m going to have her get someone to keep an eye on Alessa.”

Sebastian suddenly jogged away from them without a word. Hawke stopped just short of the ferry dock to see what he was up to. He seemed to be talking to Knight Captain Cullen. Whatever it was Sebastian was telling him wasn’t sitting well with the Knight Captain. He looked mildly annoyed at first but slowly his expression darkened to anger. He nodded at Sebastian, who clapped the metal clad Templar on the shoulder before jogging back to Sekhmet.

“Sorry about that. I was a bit annoyed that a Templar was missing and no one was going to do anything. He says he’ll make sure it’s looked into.” He held out his hand and helped Isabela onto the Ferry before doing the same for Sekhmet.

She smiled at him, “Did you just tattle on a Templar?”

He smiled a little, “Maybe.”

She giggled and rested against the rail. “Hopefully he means it. I’d hate for something to happen to Emeric.”

Varric snorted beside her, “Are you kidding? You’re worried about a Templar? Ancestors, is the world ending?”

Sebastian frowned, “What’s he talking about?”

She shook her head, not wanting to upset Sebastian. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“You mean you haven’t told your little choir boy about your favorite hobby?” Varric sneered.

Why was he being so obnoxious today? Was it just because she’d brought Sebastian along? “It’s not a hobby and you know it. Now drop it.”

Sebastian sighed beside her, “You might as well tell me now.”

She tossed one last glare at Varric before pulling Sebastian a little away from the others. “It’s not a big deal, Sebastian. I’ve been attacked by Templars and had to defend myself. My sister, before she became a Warden was attacked on occasion and I defended her. And no, I don’t feel guilty about it.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’ve killed Templars.” 

“What I’m saying is that I’ve killed a lot of people in my life, including Templars.” She kept her voice soft and tried her best not to sound defensive. She wasn’t ashamed of the Templars she had killed, so why did it feel like she should be?

Sebastian was quiet for a couple minutes, searching her face, looking at his hands, his boots, and out over the water before finally turning back to her. “I have a feeling you’re not telling me everything, but that’s alright. I don’t need to know everything about you and your life. The Maker knows I am not a perfect man and I will do my best to reserve judgment.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Sooner or later you’re not going to be able to avoid the things about me you don’t like.”

His lips turned up in a small smile of his own and he reached out and took one of her hands giving it a gentle squeeze and murmuring “Later then, always later,” before letting it go.

She glanced up and caught Varric scowling at the two of them before turning away. They reached the Lowtown docks and all parted ways to take care of their respective tasks. Sebastian had decided to head to the Chantry to see if there was anything he could do there while the others were busy.

********

None of them had managed to find Emeric. So when nightfall came they all headed for the alley in the message. As soon as they turned down the steps into the alley they had seen Emeric’s lifeless body on the ground with a large shade hovering over it.

“He wasn’t here earlier Hawke.” Isabela quickly insisted.

“Looks like the beast just finished Emeric off. Let’s give it a little pay back.” And in a blink Sekhmet was in thick of it. She’d hurried off the steps and towards the shade hovering above Emeric. As soon as her feet left the steps other shades began cropping up around them, reminiscent of Dupuis’ mansion.

They came in waves, and as she spun from one to the next she wondered how they were being controlled. It seemed that each time she and her companions slew a few, more were summoned in their place. And then the attack abruptly ended. Either whoever was summoning them had no more to summon. Or they realized that sending them after Sekhmet and her companions was a waste.

When the Templar they had spoken with at the Gallows suddenly showed up as soon as the fight was over it left Sekhmet feeling anxious. The timing was odd, had she been sitting back waiting to see what happened? Was she somehow involved? Or had she really just arrived?

Unlike when they saw her at the Gallows she was suddenly full of concern. “Some mage sent that thing here to kill him.” So, she must have seen at least as much as Sekhmet had. Why hadn’t she helped when they were being attacked? “Why would anyone…” 

The Templar jerked her head up as if she had a sudden realization. “Oh Maker, the murders, Emeric was right. He was getting too close.” She shook her head as if stunned and Sekhmet fought the urge to slap her. “He suspected a man named Gascard Dupuis. Did he do this?”

Sekhmet shook her head, “Not likely, I killed him right before I arrived at the Gallows this morning.”

The Templar scowled, “Then who sent the creature? Whoever did this is a dangerous apostate that Meredith will want found. I will see to it personally. Thank you for your help in this matter. If you learn anything more please come to me.” She handed Sekhmet a sovereign, supposedly for her help before leaving the alley.

“I don’t like her and I definitely don’t trust her.” She mused. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret letting her leave here alive.”

Varric chuckled, “There’s the Hawke we all know and love.”


	30. Mansion of Blood

Sekhmet crossed the tavern floor quickly, nodding to the regulars who smiled or said hello. Usually she would take the time to say hello back or even stop and ask them how they were. Today she was preoccupied; worried about the odd summons she had received from Varric. When she reached his room he was standing staring into the fire. 

“Hey, everything alright? I heard you needed to see me.” She tried hard to sound casual.

“Hawke, I’ve got some news. You might not want to be near anything breakable when I tell you though.” Strain deepened the creases around his eyes.

She didn’t like see Varric suffering. “Why don’t I buy you a pint and we’ll talk.”

A long sigh from Varric, “You just keep making this harder.” His lips twitched into a small smile, “Although, I won’t say no to a pint if you’re buying.” He paused for another moment, either to figure out how to begin or just gathering his thoughts in general. “I’ve had an ear out for Bartrand. After the Deep Roads he ran to Rivain. Probably because he knew I couldn’t track him. But I hear he might be back in Kirkwall. He called in loans from a few of his contacts in Hightown.”

A shiver ran down her spine. If that bastard was stupid enough to come back to Kirkwall after what he had done to them, after what he had done to Bethany, he’d soon be a very dead dwarf. “Would Bartrand really risk coming back here?”

Varric just looked weary, and older, as if they very idea of seeing Bartand again had aged him. “I think we both by now that Bartrand would risk anything for money. There’s a much better market here for that trinket he stole. And all his contacts are in Kirkwall.”

“Was he staying in Hightown or just passing through?”

He gave her a tired smile. “If my information is good, and it’s always good, he has a house there. Which gives us a good chance at having a word with my dear, sweet brother.”

He was trying to act tough but she could see how hard this was for him. “How are you holding up Varric?”

Only Varric could manage to make looking amused and bitter at the same time natural. “Me? My no account back stabbing brother is practically within arm’s reach. I couldn’t be better,”

She curled her hand into a fist and spoke in a saccharine voice. “I really missed Bartrand. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Varric followed suit, “I agree Bianca’s been missing him something awful. Let’s stop by the new house. Welcome him back to the neighborhood and all that.”

She chuckled, “So where is this little welcome home party taking place?”

********

She strolled to the address Varric had given her, Sebastian at her side. Varric probably wouldn’t be pleased, but he’d have to deal with it if he wanted her help with Bartrand. Maker only knew why she felt the need to drag Sebastian everywhere with her lately. He didn’t seem to mind and it made her feel better for some reason, it almost felt familiar.

Varric shook his head a little when he saw them, he didn’t look annoyed though. He looked more amused than anything and that worried Sekhmet. She met him at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the small landing.

“See anything interesting while you’ve been here?” She queried.

“Just got here myself.” 

She gestured to the steps, “Should we get going then?”

Varric smiled broadly, “In a moment. We’re waiting for one more.”

“Isabela running late as usual?” Her attention was dragged away from Varric by the soft rustle of clothes coming from behind her. Without even turning she knew who it was, only one person they knew walked with that particular rhythm or had the unique clothing that made those distinctive soft rustling noises. Anger and anxiety warred inside her and she glared at Varric.

“I’m here, let’s make this quick if we can. I’ve been up to my elbows in shit all day.” Anders’ voice was unusually harried and strained.

She turned to look at him, his eyes were ringed with even darker circles than usual and his skin was sallow. And when he got a little closer she could smell lyrium on him. That was worrisome; Anders tried to steer clear of lyrium as much as he could. And if he’d been drinking lyrium, a lot of it from the smell, he definitely wasn’t in the best shape.

“Are you alright?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself, so much for pretending to be disinterested and aloof.

His eyes narrowed at her, “I’ll hold my own don’t worry.”

“You’ve been drinking lyrium.” Surprising even herself when it came out sounding more like an accusation than a statement. Fantastic, they’d only managed one civil sentence before trying to scratch each other’s eyes out.

“I said I’d be fine.” He snapped right back.

Sebastian took a small step forward and held his hand out. “You must be Anders.”

Anders looked to him, almost a little startled as if he had just noticed him. He looked at Sebastian’s hand perhaps a moment or two too long before taking it. “And you’re Sebastian.”

After a brief handshake Sebastian released his grip, with a chuckle, “Hopefully, whatever stories made their way to you aren’t too unflattering.”

A muscle in Anders’ jaw twitched. “Just heard you were travelling with Hawke; have to admit I’m surprised she told you about me.”

“Well, uh, she didn’t, not exactly anyway.” Sebastian looked to Varric as he stumbled over his words.

Anders chuckled but it was a mirthless sound, “Yes, well I suppose I could see why she wouldn’t want to.” He glanced at Sekhmet, “Besides, we haven’t exactly seen a lot of each other as of late.” His tone was bitter and angry.

Sekhmet was surprised, Anders was usually better at hiding his anger, or at least blunting it a bit. “Seems like you’ve been busy, you don’t exactly drink lyrium for fun. So, why are you here?”

“He’s here because he has as much right to confront Bartrand as we do, or have you forgotten?” Varric snarked at her.

She had to get this under control before they headed inside. She didn’t want to go in with them all angry and ready to strangle each other. She looked back to Anders who was glaring holes into her. “Can I talk to you?”

A small shrug of his shoulders, “Go ahead.” His gaze flicked to Sebastian quickly before narrowing on her again.

Did he think she was embarrassed to speak in front of Sebastian? And for that matter why was she trying to get him alone? “Is something going on at the clinic? Is that why you needed lyrium?”

“Are we still harping on this? Hawke, things haven’t changed that much. You know if I say I can handle myself I can.” His voice was low, almost a growl.

He acted as if she were insulting his manhood. She quickly stifled the urge to giggle, that would just make things that much worse. “You’re right; I do know you can handle yourself. That wasn’t the question.”

Anders rubbed his forehead, a clear sign of his frustration. “There’s been an outbreak of the bloody flux in Darktown. I need to get back as soon as I can.”

So when he said he’d been up to his elbows in shit all day he wasn’t exaggerating. She imagined all the people stuffed into Darktown and the way they lived. It was a miracle something like this hadn’t happened sooner. Anders would kill himself trying to help everyone, and chances were people would end up getting re-infected because they didn’t know the source of the illness.

“I can come help, make some blackberry syrup and make sure they stay hydrated.” Those were fellow Fereldens suffering in his clinic.

He shook his head, wisps of his golden hair flying, “You don’t want to come to the clinic.” She just realized his hair was darker than it had been. He must have gone back to staying mostly in Darktown.

“Once we finish here I’ll head back to Hightown, grab what I need and I’ll be down.” Her voice was softer, less confrontational. She was going one way or the other, back into the lion’s den. He wouldn’t admit it, but he needed her.

“Hawke,” Anders’ voice was gentler too, and carried what she thought was longing, or rather wishful thinking on her part in all likelihood.

She couldn’t take the sound and stepped forward to touch his arm, her heart beating a little funny. Look, the same dance on a different day. “I’m not going to let you poison yourself with lyrium and die to save them. Not when I can help you.”

He closed his eyes and lowered his head, a grimace of pain barely touching his face before it was gone. “Alright,” he whispered.

She stepped away from him, noticing for the first time that Varric and Sebastian had moved away from them while they were talking. And was it just her or was Varric looking smug? Yes, she supposed he would look smug. He’d gotten what he wanted hadn’t he? Anders back in the fold.

She had no delusions that after working with him in the clinic that she’d be able to separate herself from him and it again. Working in the clinic had been one of the things she’d missed the most over the last couple years. Too bad it had taken an outbreak for her to go back.

Sebastian walked over to her, looking concerned. His set his arm over her shoulders in a brotherly half hug, “Everything alright, Hawke?”

She felt both Varric’s and Anders’ eyes on them when she replied, “Everything’s fine, Seb.”

Sebastian crinkled his nose in disgust, “Not Seb, please. If you need to shorten it call me Bas.”

She smiled a little, “Bas it is.” She turned to look at Varric and Anders, “Are we ready to go say hello to your darling brother now?”

They walked up the stairs, slowly looking over everything. Something was off, wrong with the place. There were cobwebs everywhere, including over the door that sat on rusty hinges, looking like it hadn’t been opened in ages. A scattering of dust lay at their feet.

She turned to Varric flashing him a cheeky smile. “I must get the name of your brother’s decorator. I really think mother would love this whole ‘not lived in’ look.”

Varric surveyed the entrance, “Hmmm, I don’t get it. My sources saw people making deliveries here just a week ago. This…Looks like it’s been empty for months.”

“Perhaps we should suggest the cobwebs to Fenris, maybe its Bartrand’s way to discourage tax collectors.” She sobered for a moment, “I really don’t like this Varric.”

He scowled, “You’re thinking it’s a trap, great.” He flashed her a strained smile, “It’s been ages since my brother tried to kill me.” He pulled hard on the door, it opened slowly on creaking hinges.

The first thing the struck Sekhmet was the smell. It was death and rot and an overpowering amount of blood. The pungent smell made her reel for a moment and she felt Anders’ long fingers gently touching her back to steady her.

“You alright?” He asked softly.

She flashed him a smile, “Out of practice is all.” She walked forward, following Varric inside.

Varric shuddered as he looked around. “These corpses aren’t even stiff yet, Hawke. Somebody’s been in here today.” At least the trip wouldn’t be a waste of time.

He eased the next door open, immediately pulling back as they were attacked by what looked to be guards. At least they used to be guards; she wasn’t sure what to call them now. Their eyes were glazed, some were even milky. Drool trailed from their slack lips and they yelled wordless garbles in odd tones as they attacked.

They we’re especially vicious though. Injuries didn’t even seem to slow them down. They ended up having to kill all of them. As they crumpled to the ground one after another their facial expressions didn’t even change. It was creepy, but more than a little sad.

Sebastian grabbed her arm stopping her from stepping on a trap. “I do hate traps.”

Sekhmet’s stomach had done a quick flip at the realization she’d almost stepped on a trap, she hadn’t been looking for any considering the state of the guards. She flashed him a smile, “Thanks.”

He nodded and dropped to his knees to disarm it without another word. Other than the odd guards and a few more traps they didn’t find much in the house until they reached a room at the far side of the house. The closer to the room they had gotten the stronger the scent of death and blood had gotten.

She pushed the door open and gasped in shock. Bodies were strewn across the room in different awkward poses, horror and pain forever etched on their faces. The floor was slick in numerous places with thick puddles of drying blood. And at the far end of the room a pile of bodies was stacked like cord wood. Not many things shocked her anymore, but this was enough to make her doubt what she was really seeing.

Varric pushed past where she was still standing in shock in the doorway. “No,” it was a small sound from his lips and Sekhmet seconded the thought. There was no way this could be real. He walked through the room picking his way over corpses and avoiding the puddles. The look of heartache and disbelief on his face as he whispered, “Bartrand, what have you done?” was echoed on both Anders’ and Sebastian’s faces as well.

“Varric, let’s keep going. We haven’t checked the upstairs yet.” She urged gently.

“How could he do this? They look like they’ve been tortured.” He sighed, “This is so unreal.”

Varric was in shock and she couldn’t blame him. She tried to imagine what it would feel like if they were looking for Carver in this house of horrors and just couldn’t do it. As cruel as he could be to her, he was so kind, loving and protective of Bethany. 

She took him by the elbow and walked him out of the room. She led him halfway down the hall without a word before he pulled away from her. He shook his head and took a deep breath, letting the air rush from his lungs in a great rush.

“I’m alright now, Hawke.” He pressed his lips into a tight line and nodded to reinforce his statement.

“Glad someone is.” Anders said quietly.

They headed to the second floor and as they crested the stairs a dwarven man came out of one of rooms headed straight for them. “Varric is that you? Praise the ancestors.”

Sekhmet, still riled from the room full of bodies they found downstairs, pulled a throwing knife from her belt, but Varric held up his arm to stop her. “Hold up, I know this man. He’s Bartrand’s steward.” He turned his attention back to the steward, “Hugin, what happened here?”

Hugin turned away from Varric, unable to meet his eyes as if he was ashamed. “Varric, your brother…that statue he brought out of the Deep Roads. Bartrand said it sang to him, even after he sold it.” He was staring intently at the wall, “I’ve been hiding in here. The guards…” He finally turned towards Varric but was still not looking at him, “They’re like crazed animals. I didn’t dare go past them.” Hugin walked back towards the four of them, “Everyone in this house has gone mad.”

There were a dozen questions in Sekhmet’s head, not the least of which was how had Hugin managed to escape the lunacy the rest of the house had suffered. But if what he said about the statue was true, they needed to find it. Anders had said it was some bad magic when they found it, but she hadn’t imagined it could be this bad. “You said he sold the statue. To who?”

Hugin shrugged a little. “I don’t know. It’s why we came back to Kirkwall.” Sadness settled over him, “He was already starting to rant about the sodding idol and its singing. On his better days he hated the thing, wanted to get rid of it.” Hugin’s voice, which was already gravelly, became even rougher when he lowered his voice. “But the minute it was gone he got worse.”

Varric’s scowl deepened the more Hugin spoke. “What about his other servants, were they hiding with you?”

Sadly, Hugin shook his head. “Bartrand took the servants and locked himself inside the study. No one’s come out for days. By the ancestors, the sounds coming from his study. They’re dead by now, I hope.”

Varric’s scowl turned into a glare. “What do you mean you hope they’re dead?”

Hugin shuddered with the memory of what he’d been forced to hear. “Just whoever, whatever you find in that room….Varric, give them a merciful death.”

Sekhmet, feeling it was a pretty safe bet that Bartrand had more of the odd guards locked up with him pressed the distressed dwarf for more information, “What’s wrong with the guards? Was it something Bartand did to them?”

He nodded, “He’s been forcing them to eat lyrium.” He seemed to get lost in his memories of Bartrand’s horrors. “Some of the servants he…cut pieces off them while they were still alive. He says he’s trying to help them hear the song. Please, stop him.”

Varric looked to Sekhmet, “Bartrand’s not exactly a nice guy, but this doesn’t sound like my brother.”

She tended to agree, Bartrand was a bastard, but he hadn’t struck her as a mad man. “Something’s going on in there, and we need to stop it. And he doesn’t seem to be interested in coming out. He has to have heard us by now.”

“Then we go in after him. Come on Hawke, let’s finish this.” Varric stalked towards the last remaining closed door in the estate.

Hugin had disappeared thankfully; it was one less thing they’d have to worry about. Bartrand wasn’t willing to give up so easily it seemed. Using a smoke flask to conceal his exit he slipped from the room and summoned more of his crazed guards to fight alongside of him.

Sekhmet did her best to keep Varric away from Bartrand. Yes, she wanted him dead, but Varric didn’t need to be the one to deal the killing blow. Unlike all those years ago with Aveline, she knew Varric would eventually understand why she had chosen to take the killing blow herself.

She followed Bartrand as he retreated back towards his room at the top of the stairs again. She was surprised the others joined her so quickly, the guards having been quickly dealt with. Bartrand stumbled backwards into the room and suddenly stopped.

He look around, his eyes seeing little if anything of what was really going on around them. He began ranting, “I can’t…I can’t hear it anymore. I just need to hear the song again. Just for a minute.” He looked up towards the ceiling, searching for someone or something. “Stop saying that. I know I shouldn’t have sold the idol to that woman. It was a mistake…a mistake.”

Varric pushed past her, knocking her into Sebastian, to get into the room. “Bartrand get a hold of yourself. Do you know where you are, do you know what you’ve done?”

Bartrand whipped around at the sound of Varric’s voice. His eyes were still wandering, still not really seeing anything. “Varric, you’ll help me won’t you little brother? Help me find it again; you were always the good one.”

Varric’s disgust was palpable. “Help you? Bartrand, you left me to die.” He stalked closer his finger poked Bartrand in the chest emphasizing his words. “Look at yourself, look at what you’ve done to the men and women that serve you. Where’s your nobility brother? Where’s your dwarven honor?”

She took a step closer, trying to get a better look at Bartrand. “I think we’re wasting our time Varric. He’s out of his damn head.”

“I didn’t come here just to leave without telling my brother he’s a filthy nug licker and demanding some answers. Why’d you do it Bartrand? Were you already crazy before we even went into the Deep Roads? Or was it all the statue?” He hissed.

Without missing a beat Bartrand responded. “Idol, not a statue, it wants to be worshipped, it wants me…it wants me back. She stole it from me.”

“Maybe he can at least tell us who he sold it to.” She prompted.

Bartrand gestured grandly as if addressing the dwarven assembly and spoke with and awed tone. “She glittered like the sun.” His tone changed, became bitter, angry, “but her heart was ice. She will not feed it, not like I did.”

She sighed, “Should have figured it was pointless to ask.”

Varric’s anger was deflating slowly. “For three years all I wanted was to look him in the eyes and get his answers. Why he abandoned us in that Thaig? What any of this was for? I guess there’s nothing he could say that would make it right.”

Sekhmet felt for him, she did. How could Bartrand have done something so awful to family? The truth was they would never know, the man was too far gone and could anything ever explain away the pain of that betrayal? “Even if he was lucid, nothing would make what he did right. And we came here for a reason, didn’t we?”

A slow inhalation, “Right, it’s still going to feel good pulling that trigger.” 

Sebastian stepped forward, moving in front of Varric who was already pointing Bianca at his brother, “Stop, you can’t.”

“If you value your life choir boy, move. It’s no skin off my nose if you don’t, two birds with one stone.” Varric growled.

“Hawke, you can’t let him do this. It’s his brother.” Sebastian pleaded with her.

She shook her head, “Sebastian, I’m sorry, but I can’t agree with you this time. My sister is in the Wardens because of him. She could have died. We all almost died because of him.”

Disappointment shone clear as day on Sebastian’s face. He turned to Varric, “You wanted answers right? What if we could get you at least a few?” He looked up at Anders, “You’re a healer,” he nodded towards Sekhmet, “She says you’re the best she’s ever seen, best she’s ever heard of even. So, there has to be at least something you can do.”

Anders shook his head, “This doesn’t feel natural, if he wasn’t a dwarf I’d think a demon did this.”

“So you’re not even going to try? Or can you just not do anything?” He was goading Anders.

Anders jaw tightened for a moment, “I didn’t say that. It’s just that his mind has been poisoned by something powerful.” He stepped closer to Bartrand, sapphire healing energy pulsed and swirled around his hands before coalescing around Bartrand’s head. When it dissipated he looked at Varric sadly, “That’s all I can do. It won’t last, I’m sorry.”

Varric nodded briefly.

“Varric?”

He whipped around to look at Bartrand who had spoken clearly for the first time since they entered the room. “I’m here.”

Bartrand groaned. “Varric, what have I done?”

Varric put Bianca away before responding. “I don’t know, I honestly don’t know.”

Sebastian moved to stand beside Sekhmet. He looked at her sadly, “Someone had to stop you two. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, “You did what you thought was right.”

“I was lead to believe questioning you was an inexcusable offense.” 

She felt tired and unsure of why Varric seemed so set on trying to shove a wedge between her and Sebastian. “Next time, why don’t you ask me yourself instead of relying on what others say about me?”

Sebastian looked ashamed, but didn’t speak further. It was just as well, she was feeling a little sick of men in general right now. A glance to Anders revealed he had been watching the two of them, turning his head away only when he realized he was about to be discovered. She turned her attention to the drama unfolding between the two estranged brothers. 

“Make it stop little brother. Don’t let me…don’t let House Tethras fall like this. I know I don’t deserve it but please Varric, don’t leave me like this. Make it stop.”

Poor Varric, he wasn’t sure how to deal with this new development. “Enough with the speeches, I’ll get you to a healer and you’ll be fine.”

Sekhmet shrugged a little, “We can probably carry him. You want to take his arms while I take his legs?”

“I think Sebastian and I can handle it if someone needs to carry him. It makes no sense for the two of you to carry him.” Anders scowled.

Varric shook his head, “I’ll send someone to come get him. Sit tight brother, help is on the way. Come on Hawke, the sooner we get out of this house the better.” He turned abruptly on his heel and jogged down the steps.

Sekhmet glanced at Bartrand again, and saw his eyes were already starting to gloss over. The clarity Anders had granted him evaporating already. Varric was going to have a tough time trying to deal with this mess. Had they made the right decision in sparing him?

Varric was waiting for them outside. He looked understandably anxious. She expected him to start walking once they joined him but he stayed rooted to the spot.

Would he resent a little sympathy right now? She hadn’t been able to read him for shit since she’d started bringing Sebastian with her. Varric was still one of the few people she even considered calling friend, so she strolled over to where he stood, “Did you need something, Varric?”

He gave her a half hearted smile, a small gesture of appreciation for at least trying. “A stiff drink maybe, I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse. I almost wish Blondie hadn’t wiggled his fingers and cleared Bartrand’s head. I liked it better when I just wanted to kill the bastard.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, “Perhaps it wasn’t my place. I just couldn’t see him killed in that state.”

Varric waived him off, “No, I appreciate what you tried to do for me.” He cleared his throat, “And I’m sorry about the two birds comment, that was uncalled for.”

Sebastian smiled the slightest bit, “Don’t worry about it. Sekhmet threatens me with worse daily.”

Anders’ head suddenly jerked up and when she looked to see what his problem was she saw his hands were both clenched into fists. What was he so angry about all of a sudden? And since when was he so shitty at hiding his emotions?

Varric smirked. “She lets you get away with using her first name; I’d say you’re pretty damned lucky.” 

Was that Anders’ problem? No, one was stopping him from using her name. He’d done it before.

She decided to rib Varric a little, “Look at the bright side, you can spend the rest of your days as a caretaker for a murderous lunatic.”

Varric snorted good naturedly enough, “Ugh, thanks for reminding me. You’re a real ray of sunshine. I’ll…deal with Bartrand somehow. Maker that’ll be even more of a joy than it used to be. I still can’t believe what he did in that house. It’s one thing to walk away and leave us to die, but that?”

“I’ll see if there’s anything I can find, maybe some way to help him on a more permanent basis.” Anders interjected quietly.

Varric nodded in response. 

She was going to get him out of there before he started dwelling on what they’d found inside too much again. “Come on Varric, let’s go drink until we can’t see straight, that’ll make you feel better.”

He grinned at her, “Aww, that’s sweet, but watching you get sick won’t cheer me up…much. Anyway, thank you, I’ll keep looking into who bought that blighted statue at the very least they need to be warned about what happened.

Once they cleared out of the small plaza Varric waived her off, “You said you were going to help Anders. I expect you to keep your word.”

She smiled, “I will.” She stopped at the Chantry with Sebastian briefly as Varric and Anders kept going. “Tired yet?”

He shook his head, “No, need some help with something else, sis?”

She chuckled, “Sis?”

He flushed, “You don’t like it?”

“Nah, actually I do like it. Beth’s the only who ever called me that and I kind of miss it. Does that mean I get to call you brother?”

Sebastian beamed, “That’d make me very happy.”

“Good, cause I didn’t like Bas.”

Sebastian chuckled a little, “Well, what did you need?”

“First, do you have armor a little less conspicuous than this?” She gestured to his gleaming white armor.

“Aye, I have some training armor, dark colored and scuffed but serviceable.”

“I need you to go to Darktown and take a look around while I help Anders. See if you can find where the contaminated water is coming from and find a way to get rid of it.” If she could get him to take care of it she could stop more people from getting sick or getting re-infected.

Sebastian looked embarrassed for a moment, “You’re going to have to tell me what I’m looking for. I don’t know much about illness I’m afraid.”

“Right, sometimes I forget some people didn’t have a father who knew everything.” She giggled, “Okay, I know this is gross, but bloody flux is supposed to come from water contaminated with feces.”

Sebastian’s face contorted in disgust. “Ugh, are you sure?”

She nodded apologetically, “Yeah, are you going to be alright to do it?”

“I’d be lying if I said it sounded fun, but I’ll take care of it. Darktown is one of the places the Chantry doesn’t get to nearly as often as it should. Maybe Elthina will let me bring some food and coin for those in need.” He turned and ran up the steps calling after himself. “I’ll get on it as soon as I change.”

She was grateful. She could have asked one of the others to do it but likely would have had to deal with a much worse argument. Sebastian’s desire to help those in need outweighed his disgust. 

********

She strode through the door of the clinic, bags in each hand and Anders had to admit he was relieved to see her. She flashed him a tentative smile on her way to the back of the clinic. Her table was just the way she had left it. He hadn’t been able to get rid of everything even after two years.

Without a word she went to work, grinding the ingredients to make the syrup. While she waited for it to cook down over the fire she brought water to the patients and brought what looked like coconuts to those who seemed to be the worst off. She rounded up and emptied bedpans with no complaints.

He felt himself relax, less worried now that he had some help. He found himself watching her every now and then, amazed by all she was handling by herself, even washing linens when the crate to hold the filthy ones became too full. When the syrup was done, she moved it to her table to pour into flasks to cool.

He walked over to check on her. “How’s it coming?”

She nodded faintly as she poured, “First batch done. I’ll start making the second. We can start giving it patients as soon as it’s cool enough that it won’t burn their mouths.” She paused and looked up at him. “I guess I owe you an apology or maybe an explanation about the last couple years.”

He shook his head, “You owe me nothing.”

She set down the pot, turning more fully to face him and bit her bottom lip, an unfamiliar thing for her to be doing. Maybe she was anxious. “So what would it take to get my healer back on a regular basis?”

He stepped closer to her inhaling her wild scent deeply. He’d missed the smell of her. It even managed to drown out the awful smells around them. He’d been fighting the urge to flirt with her all day. He remembered the urge intimately; he’d reacted the same way when she had been with Fenris. And maybe he was despicable for flirting with her when she was taken, maybe he was weak. 

Maybe he didn’t give a shit. He’d missed her and her teasing, had missed the torment of her making him ache with just a look. He licked his bottom lip and ran his eyes deliberately over her body. “I might be able to be persuaded to accompany you.”

Her eyes darkened, her eyelids fluttered just the slightest and she smiled as she teased right back, “What can I do for you, serrah?” It was the first time she’d teased him all day.

Heat suffused his body, Maker yes, he wanted more of that, please. “I’m sure I’ll think of something. In the meantime, we have patients waiting.” He gestured behind them where they were starting to attract attention.

“Anders,” her voice was a breathless whisper.

“Later,” he muttered frustrated. He wasn’t even sure what he was telling her later for. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen. He wasn’t going to suddenly lose his mind completely and drag her into his little room in the back and pin her tiny body against the wall. He absolutely wasn’t going to finally taste those purple lips, tease them apart so he could taste her little mouth, kiss her until she was breathless. 

He wouldn’t hold her captive, pinned between himself and the hard wall, unable to escape the teasing caress of his tongue, the light nips of his teeth while pushing her little chantry prince out of her mind completely, until all she knew was Anders…his taste, his smell, his feel against her. Andraste’s tits, now his heart was racing, his pulse pounding and his cock was hard and aching between his legs. _“Well played Anders, the only person you managed to wind up was yourself.”_

She moved closer to him, her hand resting on his chest. Her gaze flicked from his down to her hand, where she could obviously feel his rapid heartbeat, then back and she smiled. Didn’t she look pleased? 

Her hand started sliding downward from his chest. Down his sternum to his abdomen, fingers trailing over his belt and moving slowly downward. He had to stop her, he knew he had to but he was enjoying her touching him even with Justice’s insistent refrain of _“What is she doing?”_

Scant centimeters from where he wanted her touch the most he remembered Sebastian. He gripped her wrist hard, angry now she had toyed with him like that. “We have patients,” he grit out before releasing her hand and stepping away heading to his next patient. His anger at her would dissipate soon enough. He was really angry with himself, not her. She’d just been playing his own game with him.

At least she didn’t leave. She stayed and helped him all day, even late into the night. And uncanny sense for magic that she had, she’d leave her own patient to literally pull him away from a patient he was giving too much to. At one point, mind fuzzy from lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion from the nonstop healing he had to bite his tongue. He had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate it if he told her that her lecture wasn’t having much effect because he was too distracted by her touching him.

He didn’t realize until all the patients were cleared out of the clinic that she’d made him some dinner. She steered him, unsteady on his feet, to his desk and sat him down. She disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of thick hearty stew and it smelled divine. Next to the bowl she set down a sizable chunk of bread, then filled a mug with wine.

“Eat all of it. I’ll be back to check on you, so no falling asleep in your food.” With that she left him to eat.

His stomach growled as he smelled the stew, rabbit from the looks of it. He unleashed his voracious appetite finishing every bite. Even the bread was good, reminding him of the bread Shannon used to make, not the hard tack he had become accustomed to. The wine was rich and smooth. It was a meal fit for a king.

He’d barely emptied the bowl when Hawke came back glanced at his bowl and then picked it up without a word. Moments later she was back with another full bowl and more bread. Once again she filled his mug and disappeared from his sight.

This time as he ate he could hear her moving around behind him. He started to turn to see what she was up to when she snapped at him to eat. With a chuckle he returned to his food. This time when he finished he slumped in his chair full and content for the first time in…well in a very long time.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed when Hawke woke him up, shaking him gently. He just knew he was so very tired and felt a bit slow. He scowled, “Did you drug me?”

She laughed, “No, that’s your body telling you it’s time for some sleep. Come on, I’ll help you back.”

He was going to argue that he could make it on his own, but it seemed like a waste of energy. She’d just argue back. Maker she could be such a pain in the ass. He glanced up at her, but she was terribly cute. He stood slowly, feeling like he was moving through water. 

She walked with him, a steadying arm around his waist. He had a brief moment of hysteria when he thought that if he fell she’d go down with him, like a logger trapped under a tree. He really was exhausted.

He sat on the edge of his cot and watched dumbly as she unlaced his boots and removed them quickly her nimble fingers making short work of the long laces. She stood and peeled back his covers and waited for him to lie down. Obediently, he did and let her cover him up.

“If this was a real bed I’d drag you in and make you stay with me.” He snuggled down into the blankets.

“What?” She was staring at him, clearly surprised.

He looked at her, shit he’d said that out loud? “Uh, you look tired.”

She didn’t push him but her smile said she didn’t believe him. She shifted and bent down and for an insane and hopeful moment he thought she was going to kiss him, but she was just reaching for the leather thong still holding his hair back. When she stood he let himself breathe again.

“Get some sleep. I have a few things to do, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” With that she blew out the lamp in his room and left, the door shutting quietly behind her.

Left alone in the dark and quiet he realized just how quiet everything was. Justice wasn’t ranting at him about Hawke and how close she’d been, or the ‘liberties’ she’d taken. If his co-inhabitant decided he didn’t hate Hawke Anders was truly screwed, maybe in more ways than one. He snickered, childishly, before drifting off to sleep.


	31. Stuck Between Then and Now

Sekhmet was stumbling blindly through Lowtown, her head pounding and heart aching. Sebastian had been so quiet the last couple weeks she should have seen it coming. She should have, but hadn’t, she’d been completely blindsided. And to make matters worse she’d reacted so poorly.

They’d been sitting in the pews on the mezzanine when he’d broached the subject. What of her history with the Templars? He’d done some digging on his own, heard lots of rumors about her hatred for Templars, rumors of mysterious deaths and disappearances. 

He admitted he had talked to Knight Captain Cullen to see what he thought of the rumors. The man had seemed torn, telling of how she had saved Keran, but in the same breath confirming she was no friend of the Templars. Sebastian couldn’t shake the gnawing worry though, he needed to know. How many Templars had crossed her path and failed to live to tell?

She’d been incensed by him going behind her back, seeking information from the Templars, of all people, about her. Angry and hurt, he called her sister but clearly didn’t trust her. The whole time he had been checking up on her. She snapped at him, angry that this was why he’d called her here. “As many as I needed to kill to protect my family.”

“You mean to protect your sister here in the city, but you don’t need to anymore, right?” It wasn’t said unkindly but it was an awful lot to assume. Did he think he would just dictate that she wouldn’t kill Templars anymore and she would just gracefully accept it?

Her anger made her a bit less than rational; she sneered and shook her head. “No, I’ve been killing Templars far longer than I’ve been in Kirkwall.”

He looked very sad all of a sudden. “And you don’t plan to stop, do you?”

No, she had absolutely no plans of stopping. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

He’d looked away, clearly not able to look at her. Disappointed surely, and there was just the slightest edge to his voice, the beginnings of annoyance. “You would kill men and women of the Chantry to save an abomination?”

That word, that bloody word, she hated that damned word, more than that she hated people who used it when speaking of Anders. Sebastian had only just met Anders, didn’t know him at all and yet here he was using that hateful word. Abominations were twisted and ugly, seeking to cause pain, to maim and kill. Anders was…he was beautiful, for starters. The man was beautiful and tall, graceful. 

He was a healer before anything else, seeking to aid those who were suffering. He was friendly and funny when the mood struck him. And granted Justice had a darker side, but he sought to free mages to give them justice for all the wrongs perpetrated upon them. She herself was more an abomination than Anders.

And was Sebastian really lecturing her about who she would kill to protect another? Him of all people? He, who she had killed more people for than any other singular person? “I would kill whoever I needed to in order to protect my _friend_ , or have you already forgotten what you asked me to do for you, not once, but twice?”

“It’s not the same,” he started.

“To me it is.” She stood, “I will not change Sebastian, I do what I feel I must. You can hate me if you need to. You would not be the first of my brothers to do so even.” She walked away, to give him time to think, or perhaps to give herself time to think.

Her heart was bruised and aching, having fouled up another attempt at friendship. She’d never had the talent for friendship her siblings had. It had come so naturally to them. She’d never bothered with it in Lothering, had been so set on leaving as soon as she could it seemed a pointless endeavor. And now in Kirkwall she had surrounded herself with people who were useful, not the best basis for a friendship. More and more often she kind of wished for something more.

She’d made a stab at it with Anders a few times and they always failed miserably. She’d even tried with Fenris with much the same result. She and Aveline admired each other, sure, but they did not particularly enjoy each other’s company as they had nothing in common. And as much as she had in common with Isabela she didn’t trust the woman at all.

Varric was perhaps the closet thing she had to a friend before Sebastian. They were more business partners who occasionally got drunk together than anything else. She’d been careful with him, wary of repeating her previous mistakes. Varric’s connections were too important to lose. She lost her temper too quickly, forgave too slowly which meant she spent a lot of time alone. And the years she’d spent in Kirkwall had only made it worse, for many reasons.

And now here she was, she glanced up and almost laughed. She was apparently in the mood for more punishment. Why else would she be finding herself standing outside of Anders’ clinic? She didn’t even remember coming down the steps into Darktown.

It didn’t matter; at least she had arrived safely. And with the comfort of Sebastian’s company denied to her, Anders was who she really wanted to be with right now. She walked into the clinic and found that he only had three patients in the entire clinic, seemed the place was thinning out more and more lately.

He glanced up from the man he was working on and a small smile touched his pretty lips. She returned his smile and moved to the back of the clinic, hopping up on her work table to wait for him to finish. She watched him, the sapphire magic twining around his patient as he healed, his long fingers moving slowly and steadily, his face so serious and focused. She could sit and watch him all day. 

He looked well rested finally, and he’d put on a little weight over the last few weeks. Dealing with the bloody flux outbreak had been a nightmare. Anders had worked himself to exhaustion everyday. Every night she had made sure he ate a decent supper and made sure he made it to his bed.

Getting through the breakout had been a group effort. Sebastian had found the source of the outbreak and dealt with it. He never told Sekhmet how just shuddered when she asked. After it was handled he came down to the clinic for a couple hours every day to pray with those who were interested and handed out water.

Varric hadn’t gone to the clinic himself but made sure there were plenty of supplies available for the large influx of patients. Merrill had even come down, wide eyed and a little nervous around Anders who scowled at her. She offered to help with healing minor injuries not related to the flux. Sekhmet had welcomed the help and shushed Anders when he tried to complain.

Merrill helped with other tasks too. Anders insisted everything be washed in boiling water, from the linens to flasks. Sometimes, with everything else going on, it took too long to heat it on the fire and Merrill helped out. 

When Merrill had tried to ask why everything had to be boiled Anders had snapped at her only giving, “Because I said so,” as a reason. He’d confided to Sekhmet later he wasn’t sure why, but thought it might help with the contamination. He wasn’t sure if the idea was his or the spirit of compassion that helped him heal.

Even with everyone helping, Anders was dead on his feet at the end of everyday. The first few days were the absolute worst. He would lock himself in his room in the back for a few minutes every hour and came our reeking of lyrium. She wasn’t sure why he felt he had to hide himself to do it, but she didn’t push him about it. Lyrium was a very touchy subject for him. She’d just looked for signs of overdose and had been thankful not to see any.

In a way, she had been grateful for his exhaustion. He ate without complaint or questioning where the food came from. He’d finish at least two servings every night before she made sure he got to bed. And within a matter of minutes he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

It was only after everything was all said and done with the outbreak that he thought to question everything. He wanted to know where the food came from, where the supplies had come from as well as who had paid to replace the cots and linen that had needed to be replaced. When she refused to tell him anything he had been briefly angry, but had let it go much more quickly than she had anticipated.

And she had continued to bring him food almost every evening, making sure he stayed fed and kept his strength up. After the first night he hadn’t bothered arguing. He’d apparently realized the futility of it. She had always thought he was a smart man.

Now, he finished with the patient he was helping and after a quick murmured discussion he headed back to where she was seated. He stood close, only the smallest space between her knee and his waist. They’d gotten comfortable working close together during the outbreak. She had the mad urge to stretch out her leg and hook him around the waist, pulling him closer, pulling him against her. What would he do then? Probably run.

He brushed a few wisps of hair off his forehead, looking serious if faintly curious. “Hi, what’s going on?” His eyes were dark, but they always were lately, in the days following the outbreak.

She gave a shrug, suddenly feeling very silly. The man was working and she was bothering him because she’d had a tiff with Sebastian? “I just came to see you.”

A pause, his eyes scanned her face before the tiniest smile appeared on his luscious lips, and was his voice just a shade deeper when he responded? “Did you, now?”

She inched her leg closer so her knee was actually touching him. Why did he always make her feel like a silly teenager with her first crush? Why did he have to smell so good? Clean and warm and she really just wanted to grab him, climb him like a damn tree and make him really react to her. She couldn’t be that rusty with men, could she? 

He may not want anything from her, but he was usually still game for a bit of salacious banter. She practically purred at him, “When you lower your voice like that I never know whether I want to bite you or lick you first.”

He chuckled and leaned forward, his breath fanning across her ear as he spoke, voice low and rumbling in her ear making her heart race and her skin heat. “Always bite first; licking soothes away the sting.” He paused, not moving and inhaled deeply, “Unless you’re aiming…lower. In which case, I think we can stick to licking.”

Her hand shot out and clutched his wrist, her nails biting into the underside. Yep, less than a minute with him and she was out of her damn mind with wanting him. He really was much better at this little game than she was.

She could scream, not that it would help. “You’re such a fucking tease,” she grit out between clenched teeth. She knew he had absolutely no plans on anything other than these verbal assaults he’d been using lately. So why did she play this stupid game with him? Because she couldn’t help herself, because she was a fool: a stupid, randy, love struck fool.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He replied, smirking as he disentangled himself. “Let me take care of these patients, it should only take me a few minutes.”

“In that case,” She hopped down from the work table, “I’ll be in your bed, getting comfortable.” She flashed him another smile before disappearing into his room. 

********

Alright, he could admit it. He’d been having entirely too much fun with Hawke for the last few weeks. He hadn’t flirted with her again during the bloody flux outbreak, had been far too exhausted to even think about such things. But when she came back even after it was over he hadn’t been able to resist.

And she’d been different, flirting back with him but never pushing, likely because she was already taken. A blaze of anger shot through him, but fizzled quickly. He still doubted the relationship would last very long. 

She was far too wild for a man of the cloth to ever tame. There were times he wondered if he’d even be able to handle her if he were still free to pursue such things. The woman was a handful and half. He felt himself smiling a little again; what he wouldn’t give for just a taste of her wildness.

His next patient was a badly sprained wrist, something he could heal in his sleep. So he went to work, but turned his attention back to thoughts of Hawke. He’d been worried she would cut him off again after helping in the clinic during the flux outbreak, either because she didn’t want to see him or because she had too many other obligations.

It had been torture watching her smile and murmur with Sebastian here in the clinic during the outbreak, but it wasn’t as if he could demand the chantry brother leave. He was providing solace to Anders’ patients and he wouldn’t deny them that. And he had taken a small measure of satisfaction that Hawke had far more attentive to him than the Chantry brother throughout the ordeal. 

She spent a lot of time with Sebastian, by all accounts, on jobs as well as leisure time. And yet, even now, she still made time to come help in the clinic several times a week and brought him supper almost every night. Something he was increasingly grateful for as he had finally started putting weight on. This was the first time she’d come just to see him, if that was indeed why she was here.

Finished, he gave the woman his standard advice of taking it easy for a few days and to come back if it got worse again. She flashed him a smile and thanked him before leaving. Now, he was left with only his last patient and Hawke in his room…possibly in his bed.

It was better not to think of such things, she obviously wouldn’t be in his bed, not in the sense he would have liked her to be anyway. She was taken; he had to keep reminding himself of that, she wasn’t his to lust after. Not that it stopped him, especially since Justice no longer hindered him when he needed to relieve some tension. 

The Fade spirit had either decided it wasn’t worth his time, or had merely become accustomed to it. Either way there was rarely a day Anders wasn’t taking himself in hand at least once filled with thoughts of all the things he’d like to do with and to Hawke. He was haunted by her.

He looked down at his last patient and tried to listen to his story. The same story he heard over and over and over again. Yet another man who frequented prostitutes and was paying the price for it. He didn’t bother waiting for the rest of the story and just quickly healed him. 

As finishing up he caught the glint of gold on the man’s ring finger. Another brief fizzle of anger, he was getting far too used to being angry. “You should be thankful for your wife. Some of us won’t ever have that luxury.”

The man hung his head shamed faced, as he should.

Anders tried not to sound so angry, “Have you bedded your wife since you tupped the whore?”

The man nodded.

Dammit, that was not the response he’d been hoping for. “You’ll have to bring her to me. If I don’t heal her she could become infertile, as well as worse things.”

“Messere mage, I can’t, she’ll find out what I did.” The man whined at him.

Anders scrubbed his hand over his eyes, had he been this young once, this stupid? Maker, he hoped not. “You’re a young man; do you plan on having children?”

He nodded.

“Then bring her to me to be healed. I don’t care how you do it. And I don’t expect to see you back here to get rid of another of these diseases. Love your wife. There are other ways to deal with your needs if she can’t. Or here’s a novel idea, the poor girl’s probably never laid with a man besides you. Teach her, for Maker’s sake. Now go on home, bring her to me tomorrow.” He waived the young man away and he scrambled from the clinic quickly, swearing he would bring in his wife.

Anders was sure he would lie to the poor girl. And Anders wouldn’t bother to set her straight. Let her keep her illusions, Maker knew there were few enough things to make her happy in Darktown. Why shatter the illusion about her marriage? He shook his head; of course, it was as likely as not she already knew about the whores. Most women were sharper than men gave them credit for.

He strolled to the doors and doused the lamps, closing and locking the doors after him. A giddy thrill ran through him, heating his blood, he was all alone with Hawke. If she only knew his thoughts she’d run, probably giving him a well deserved slap first. Just last night he’d fantasized about taking her on every cot, on the work tables and even the floor. Spending the whole night showing her what Warden stamina really meant.

He smiled at the memory. _“Darling Hawke, if you only knew what a filthy mind I have…As much as my heart aches for you, my body aches more, burning twice as hot.”_ And maybe that was another reason the two of them were better apart. For all that he cared for Hawke, when he thought of her it was usually in a sexual manner first. He wasn’t sure he could pull off flowers and sonnets without seeming smarmy and lecherous.

For now, he’d be happy she was here. He quickened his pace towards his room, looking forward to their little game of subtle touches and unsubtle words. And of course, he’d enjoy her companionship; he’d missed her and their odd brand of friendship. He had lots of lost time to make up for.

He pushed open the door and peered in, chuckling when he saw her. She’d very deliberately left her armor, boots and socks in a haphazard pile next to his cot. Meanwhile, she was lying on the cot, legs naked and showing from the calves down, arms folded behind her head, her arms were bare of course. And his blanket was covering her from her chin down to her knees. She watched him, amusement in her eyes as he stalked closer. 

He gripped her ankles, “Now who’s the tease?” He dragged her towards him, slipping the blanket up to reveal her linen trousers had been pushed up past the knee. “Huh?”

She sat up and tugged down her short sleeves with a smile. “Admit it, for a brief moment you were hoping I was naked under here.”

A brief moment? More like since she’d disappeared into his room. He snorted, “Not bloody likely.”

“Not likely I would have been, or not likely you were hoping?” She turned and leaned her back against the wall patting the cot beside her.

Happily, he settled himself in next to her. “Does it really matter?”

She tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear making him ache again. “You know Anders, all you have to do is ask. I’d get naked for you in a heartbeat.”

He smirked at her, “So, you do everything quickly….That’s a bit disappointing.”

She stood up in front of him, facing the opposite wall. “I suppose,” She pulled up her tunic a bit, baring her abdomen, but she was still faced away from him so all he could see was a little glimpse of skin on her sides. Was there something blue on her right side? She started rocking her hips side to side, a slow sensuous roll. “I could go nice and slow; maybe give you a little dance if you prefer.” She turned a quarter step towards him.

His eyes were riveted to that exposed skin, so beautifully pale, almost translucent. So white it almost had an opalescent sheen. And there was definitely something blue on her side, it was another tattoo. He didn’t even know what it was, but he longed to trail his fingers over it, to lick it, to kiss it. Sweet Maker, tattoos did funny things to him.

Her fingers skimmed along the top of her trousers. He was still distracted by the tattoo, was it vines with leaves at the end? He caught himself reaching out to touch it. Embarrassed, he shifted to sit on his hands. If he touched her, he wouldn’t stop. And a slap in the face was not on the list on things he wanted today.

“And what would your Chantry prince say about you dancing and stripping for me?” It would be better to stop this now before he did something not quite…friendly, something she really wouldn’t forgive him for.

She froze for a moment, her whole body going very stiff before she dropped her tunic. She was very quiet as she climbed back onto the cot and settled herself next to him. “I don’t want to talk about Sebastian, okay?”

That was a lot more seriousness that he’d expected from her. Of course he figured she would stop, but he hadn’t realized she would be so sullen. So Sebastian was why she was really here. 

As much as he wanted to crow about the already disintegration relationship he tried to be sympathetic, “Everything alright with you two?”

She just glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

He nodded, “Alright, we won’t talk about Sebastian.”

They both fell silent for a while. Anders wondered why they were suddenly having trouble talking. It’s not like they ever discussed Sebastian. She never mentioned him and Anders really didn’t want to hear about the two of them so he made sure he never did either.

He heard more than enough from Varric, though it was clear it was mostly supposition. Apparently, Hawke didn’t talk about Sebastian with anyone. Anders thought it might have something to do with how they all were more than a little mocking of the “Chantry Prince”.

Hawke suddenly pulled up his trouser leg over his boot and up to his knee. He scowled a little as she reached out and gently ran her fingers over the hair on his legs. “What are you doing?”

“I was sitting here thinking about you…naked. I was wondering if you were blonde everywhere. And I couldn’t remember if the hair on your legs was blonde or not. So, I decided to look.” She grinned at him.

It was something he’d wondered about her plenty, was that oddly captivating white hair everywhere? And if it was, just what exactly would that look like? “Glad I could satisfy your curiosity.”

She snorted, “Who said I was satisfied?”

He opened his mouth and quickly shut it. He’d been about to make a comment about Sebastian not satisfying her, but he had agreed not to talk about him so he refrained. “Would it help if I told you I am, in fact, blonde everywhere?”

She closed her eyes and a small tremor passed through her, “Good, because that’s how I picture you when I picture you naked.”

He chuckled, “Picture me naked a lot do you?” Oh, he really liked that idea. Did she picture herself with him? Was she riding him, or did she lie beneath him, or…He was going to make himself hard again if he kept thinking like that.

She opened her eyes and looked into his. “At least three or four times a day. Mostly when I’m alone, but sometimes…sometimes at the most inappropriate times.”

Why couldn’t he tell if she was just teasing or telling the truth? Did he want it to be true so badly he just didn’t want to be disappointed? It’s was certainly a nice ego boost. “Inappropriate like when?”

“Like when I watch you cast, I always wonder what you’d look like casting naked. I try to picture it in my head. I have to make sure my hands are busy though.” She was speaking in hushed tones.

“Why do you have to make sure your hands are busy?” That deep and rough voice was his, his arousal bleeding through in his voice. Why was he doing this to himself? Only a masochist would torture himself like this.

She rolled up to her knees and leaned in to whisper in his ear, her breath tickling him. “Otherwise, I might touch myself the way I do when I’m alone and thinking of you gloriously naked covered in nothing but tattoos. Can you imagine what other people would think if they saw me touching my…”

Sweet Andraste the woman was trying to kill him. Anders pushed away from her and stood up, breathing hard. “Stop,” he grated, “please.” He’d fooled himself into thinking he had the upper hand with her again. Someday he’d learn how foolish that belief was. He was pretty sure there weren’t any lines the woman wouldn’t cross. “We really can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” She asked with feigned innocence.

They were doing a pretty good job of riling Justice. But, Anders couldn’t even answer her, he was afraid of fighting with her. Would she storm out of his life again? Would she leave him alone with nothing but memories? Yes, this vulgar playfulness between the two of them was not exactly healthy, but he couldn’t deny he craved it. When she was gone he would replay each moment over and over in his head.

She must have realized his playful mood was gone. She sobered and stood in front of him. “Alright, I’ll try to behave myself.” Maybe she was as afraid of losing him as he was her? A man could always dream couldn’t he? After a moment, she took his arm and tugged him back down to sit beside her. Hawke smiled apologetically, “I was going a bit overboard today. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t rein me in sooner.”

“So, you like seeing how far you can push me?” His tone bordered on accusatory.

Her apologetic smiled morphed into a smirk, “And just what would you call what you’ve been doing?”

She was right; he had been seeing how far he could push her. He wanted to see if he could make her blush and giggle, wanted to see how much she would let him get away with. He’d never spoken to a woman the way he did with her. Maybe a little risqué from time to time, but he was downright crass with Hawke and she always came back for more. There were some men, alright most men, might have been turned off by it, but he actually liked it. “Touché.”

He liked being this close to her, an intimacy he could allow himself. She was so striking, so beautiful and she didn’t seem to realize it herself. When he had seen her up close after those two years apart, here outside his clinic, even fearing a trap, he’d been staggered…dazzled by it. It was as if he hadn’t really seen her before. He’d thought her attractive yes, but not like this, not breathtaking, he would have remembered, surely.

She was watching him so closely, those diamond sharp eyes taking in every detail. Did she sense the regret he was starting to feel? It shouldn’t be like this between the two of them. Not so ugly and crude. He felt himself a cad, a man so wrapped up in his unquenched lust he was blind. 

So what, if there could never really be anything between them? If he was going to play this game, indulge in their little addictive habit he could at least make an attempt to treat her like a lady, treat her with the respect she deserved. 

The very idea of her thinking all he wanted from her was a tumble was unexpectedly revolting. All he’d given to her was that part of himself though. Teasing and tempting with words he wouldn’t use with a whore.

A thought suddenly struck him, was Sebastian the reason for their bawdy game? Was her Chantry Prince too tame so she came to Anders for a bit of wicked repartee? He wouldn’t play the lecher, the villain anymore. 

If it took a prince he would be a prince, charming and sweet. It was in his blood after all, wasn’t it?

He almost smiled at the thought; the Chantry Prince versus the Sewer Prince? All that aside he’d failed acting like a prince before he even started. Did he not wish to win her away from Sebastian in some way? And then what? He still had nothing to offer her, nothing he could promise her. But he would cross that bridge, if and when they ever came to it. 

“What are you thinking about so intently?” She asked when the silence between them had stretched out a touch too long.

“It’s been,” he paused hoping there wouldn’t be a fight, “so long. I feel like we need to get to know each other all over again. And instead we’re…” He shrugged unable to name what it was they were doing.

“Have you changed all that much? I don’t think I have. Ask me anything Anders. You can always ask me anything.” She smiled again, almost shyly.

He raised an eyebrow surprised. “Really?” She didn’t strike him as the type to be so open, and she never had been before.

“For you, of course.” She was so earnest. Sometimes he really didn’t understand her. Mere weeks ago they had been virtual strangers and she wouldn’t even look at him. Now she was inviting him to pry into her life?

He so wanted to be clever, and later he would think of a dozen other things he could have asked her. For now though his mind was full of questions he really didn’t want the answer too. Why Fenris? Who ended it and why? How could you be with a man from the Chantry? 

“What’s your happiest memory?”

“Happiest?” She closed her eyes and thought for a long time before she spoke again. “I don’t know, there’s a lot of happy memories: my father teaching me how to swim, the first time I was able to read a book to him instead of vise versa, the first time I beat him sparring. There’s a lot to choose from.”

Anders was glad she had so many happy memories, but what about Leandra? “What about happy memories with your mother? Don’t you have any of those?”

She shrugged a little, “Things were harder with her. She wanted so desperately for me to be a little lady and I rebelled at the very thought. But there were good times. I remember her teaching me songs. The ladies in noble houses were taught to sing to entertain the men. I liked singing with her. Did you know she can play the lute beautifully?”

“I’d like to hear that sometime.” He mused.

“Her playing or me singing?” 

“Both,” and he meant it. He had liked Leandra when he had met her and would be honored to hear her play. And the idea of Hawke singing was intriguing.

She smiled softly, “Well come on up and we’ll talk her into playing for you. As for me, I haven’t sung since I was a child. I was never very good at it, so you’re not missing anything.”

Maybe someday he’d convince her to sing for him. It was a challenge to file away for later. For now, he was still curious. “What about the twins, what was your favorite memory of them?”

Her smile widened, “Besides the day they were born? I was so excited to be a big sister…and I was for a few years, and then I was just the older sister.” She chuckled.

“Carver grew that quickly?” Boys usually sprouted up before girls, so assumed Carver had eclipsed Hawke first.

She shook her head, still smiling, “They both did.” She stretched out a little, relaxing. “I was such a crap older sister for Bethany. Honestly, I had nothing to teach her. She was so girly; it was completely foreign to me. I was glad when my father let me help in her schooling. There was finally something I could do that was useful.” 

Her eyes closed, “And believe it or not, Carver looked up to me at first. I loved teaching him about fighting, even though he was interested in a different fighting style than I was. I bought him his first ale.” She opened her eyes and grinned mischievously, “Even introduced him to his first whore.”

Anders chuckled, “Your mother must have been thrilled about that.”

“She never knew, still doesn’t. She’d probably skin me if she did. I figured if the only thing I could do for Beth as an older sister was protect her, I would be the best damned older brother in Thedas for Carver.” She sighed, “It blew up in my face eventually, but for a while it was…” Suddenly, she turned away from him and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t even shake but Anders could feel her pain.

Her stroked her back gently, “I’m sorry Hawke.” 

She turned back, burying her face in his chest and wound her arms around him. He held her tight and stroked her hair and back. They stayed like that for a long time, her silent and still the whole time while he tried his best to comfort her. He wished he had words to comfort her, but couldn’t think of any. And so he remained silent as well.

It felt like hours, but was in all likelihood only a few moments before she pulled away. Her face was calm; no tear tracks just a little red. Her eyes were darker than they usually were and she was having a hard time looking at him. Her emotional display, as minimal as it was, had clearly embarrassed her.

He wanted so badly to protect her, to wipe away the pain from her past, to fill her future with smiles and laughter. Truly, he didn’t think Sebastian had it in him to understand her. And regardless of whom ended things between them, Fenris hadn’t fought for her, or if he had, he hadn’t fought hard enough.

Not that Anders thought he deserved her. Out of all the men who knew her, he deserved her least of all. But he had something the others didn’t. He, at least, understood her a bit. 

Sekhmet Hawke was like the moon, luminous and full of shadows.

How could he not be enraptured by her? And, oh but was he a selfish man. He wanted more of her, all of her. When she looked up at him finally, he asked her gently, “Would you take your hair down for me?” She so seldom wore it down, and it suddenly seemed like a great injustice in the world.

Her eyes caught his, a little surprised. She nodded and slowly pulled out the pins holding it back. It slowly tumbled down, like falling snow.

He reached out, fingers slipping over the silken strands pulling it down gently to frame her face. “Such a beautiful woman,” he whispered as he pulled away from her. A huge understatement, but he couldn’t think of sufficient words to describe how amazing she was, inside and out.

And wonder of all wonders, there was the blush, the pink hue making her skin even more remarkable, even more beautiful. 

What kind of a man did it make him that he never wanted her to blush for anyone else, that he never wanted another man to see her like this? “You make me think of a moon goddess, a huntress.”

She blushed deeper, the crimson disappearing up into her hairline and down into the neckline of her tunic. She looked away from him but still didn’t speak. 

He hooked her chin and pulled her back to look at him. He couldn’t bear her looking away, for even a moment. He didn’t want to miss a single second of seeing her like this, but her eyes darted away again. It was frustrating, and perplexing. “Why can’t you look at me?”

She gave a faint shrug. Had she ever been so silent before? Did her Chantry Prince not sing her praises? Surely, Fenris had told her how utterly exquisite she was. Or maybe they were both too foolish to tell her, as he had been for so long. 

But no longer, “Would you deny me the pleasure of seeing those pale blue eyes of yours?”

She finally spoke, “Anders, please.” Her voice was agonized. 

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He let her go murmuring an apology. He’d known women shy about their looks before, or those who didn’t realize how beautiful they were. A woman who seemed hurt by compliments was new to him though. Hawke was…different, clearly. Talking of all the raunchy things one could imagine was fine, but a few honest compliments had her ready to run?

Or maybe it was just that she was thinking of her other Prince, the real one. And now Anders was hurting. He cursed Justice for keeping him from her. He cursed himself for his stupidity for believing even for a moment that their little game could be something more.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted their awkward moment. Anders jumped to his feet and quickly answered the door. He found one of the Underground’s messenger’s there. 

The messenger handed him a sealed letter. “Marcos says this is the information you’ve been waiting for. He also says he wished he could help you but he’s still trying to sort everything out from the last raid.” With that he turned and ran away.

Anders’ stomach knotted as he popped open the seal and skimmed over the letter. It was worse than he feared. How was he supposed to do something about this if Marcos couldn’t spare him any help?

Oh, but he knew didn’t he? The solution was still waiting in his room for him. He turned, walking slowly back to her. He paused at the doorway, unable to make himself cross the distance left between them.

“What is it, what’s going on?” Hawke stood up crossing to where he was still standing in the doorway.

The shock finally started to wear away a little. “I’m going to ask for your help and I’m going to hate myself for doing it.”

She gave a faint nod, “Because I’ll say yes.”

“Because you always say yes, and even when I tell you how dangerous, how crazy it is you’ll still say yes.” He pushed a few wisps of hair off his forehead, frustrated that he really needed her help. There was no one else he thought capable of doing it.

She gestured to the parchment still gripped in his hand, “The Underground I take it?”

He nodded, he should have realized before he set this whole ball into motion that he was going to need her help. And what if they hadn’t reconciled? The answer to that, of course, was simple. He would have done it alone.

Hysterical laughter tried to bubble up, a disturbing phenomenon that was happening more and more lately. Wasn’t the prince supposed to rescue the damsel, not the other way around? Or maybe that just made him the damsel and her the prince. He might be able to pull off looking like a damsel, but he doubted Hawke could pull off looking like a prince. Not that she couldn’t pull off regal; he mostly doubted she could pass for a man. He mustn’t laugh, not now.

Hawke pressed at his continued silence. “Are you going to tell me what it is or are you going to make me guess?” 

He sighed, he hated it, he really did. But who else could he trust besides her? And who else was skilled enough to help? No one, that’s who, “I’ve been watching the Gallows, and noticed a disturbing trend. It seems like everyday there are more and more Tranquil selling their bloody wares.” He felt the anger rising in him just mentioning it. “Including people I know passed their Harrowing.”

She scowled, “But they can’t do that, it’s against the Chantry’s own laws!” Yet another reason he adored her, she wasn’t even a mage and she was furious about it.

“Exactly, I had another member of the Underground who has more access to the Gallows look into it to see what he could find out. The bloody Templars are using the rite to silence those who speak against them, just like they did with Karl. Only it gets worse. They’re working on a deliberate plan to turn every mage in Kirkwall Tranquil over the next three years.” Just saying the words made him feel sick and made Justice growl in rage in his head. Blue light shimmered under his skin and Anders admonished Justice that if they scared Hawke away they would be going in on their own. The light quickly faded.

Hawke who had clearly seen the display didn’t even react, instead she demanded, “Who’s behind this? Someone has to be spear heading and championing this stupid idea right?”

Oh, there was definitely someone championing the idea. Someone that made Anders want to commit murder with his bare hands. “His name is Ser Alrik, I’ve had a run in with him myself.” He shuddered at the memory. He’d been helping a mage escape when the shrill screams had echoed down the halls.

They were desperate cries, ones that called to Anders’ soul. He’d never made that sound out loud, but during his year of solitary he’d made those very same cries in the silence of his head. The mage beside him had frozen, face pale and nearly bolted back the way they had come. Anders coaxed her into staying and telling him where the screams were coming from.

She’d stayed put while Anders had found the chamber of horrors the screams issued from. He’d tried the door and found it locked. And when he tried to use the spell Morrigan had taught him to unlock it he found the lock was protected against magic, which he probably should have known. That was fine, he’d just backed up and blown the door clean off its hinges.

It turned out to be great move as the Templar had been standing on the other side. The door had knocked him down and pinned him beneath it. He wasn’t moving. Anders saw a man chained up to a tilted table, bound wrist and ankle. His head hung as if he were unable to lift it. One eye was swollen shut, the other rolled wildly finally settling on Anders.

He croaked out a single “help,” and promptly coughed up a gout of dark colored blood to spatter on the floor. It mingled with the rest of the puddle at the man’s feet. Anders first urge was to unchain the man, but his wounds demanded his attention first. From head to foot his skin had been flayed by a lash.

No part of him had been spared, not his feet or his hands, not his genitals, not even his face. His skin was in tatters and there were deep purple bruises in several places, including his abdomen where apparently the lash wasn’t enough to satisfy the templar and he had resorted to his gauntleted fists. Anders walked up to him slowly as the man tried to jerk away.

He let a little magic dance around his fingertips. “I’m a mage, a healer. I’m here to help. I’ll let you down in a few minutes, but I need to do at least a little healing first. If I don’t I can hurt you worse than you already are. Do you understand?”

The broken mage made a brief squeak that Anders took for assent. He healed the man’s internal injuries from the punches he had taken. He did a brief healing of the man’s skin, but the Templar was starting to stir. Anders quickly moved to the table and tried to remove the chains. Again they were immune to magic and Anders was afraid of hurting the man if he tried to use force.

Nausea pooling low in his gut, fighting with the rage he moved to where the Templar was still pinned beneath the door. He used a force spell to push down on the door to make sure the Templar couldn’t get up. He reached down and found the man’s belt, moving his fingers around it without being able to see. He finally found the key ring.

As he worked to loosen it the Templar’s ice cold eyes popped open. He literally growled at Anders before speaking. “Halt, this is Templar business.” He tried to get up but found himself pinned. Hate simmered in the Templar’s eyes. “Your life belongs to me now, mage.” 

Anders slipped the keys free finally and stood. “Sorry, but you’ll have to get in line for that.” Not wanting the Templar to scream and bring all of the Templars in the Gallows down upon them he cast a silence spell over the man. Justice practically purred in satisfaction, using silence was a tactic the Templars used on mages, so using it on a Templar felt quite a bit like justice.

He quickly unlocked the man from the table and helped him to walk out the door. As they were about to exit the man spoke up. “He really will come after you.”

Anders had shrugged, “Half of Thedas is after me.” Now he wished he had taken the extra time and effort to just kill the Templar but he’d been so worried about getting both mages out safely he hadn’t want to risk losing himself to Justice’s wrath.

“What happened between you and him?” Hawke asked.

He had no desire to tell her he had an opportunity to end this mess before it all started and hadn’t. “Let’s just say he’s a nasty piece of work. He’s the one who did the ritual on Karl.” A little tidbit he hadn’t found out until after their little interlude in the Gallows, otherwise the man wouldn’t have just died he would have died slowly and painfully.

She arched a brow, clearly surprised. “Really, and he’s still alive how?”

“Because I was more concerned with getting mages out than in revenge at the time,” he snapped, not liking the reminder. He shook his head, “I guarantee he won’t get out alive this time. The bastard is a sadist, cold blooded as a lizard. Likes to ‘experiment’ on mages, find out what it takes to push them into the arms of demons.”

She smiled a little, “I’ll make sure to leave him for you then. Now, how do we stop them from carrying out this plan to make the mages Tranquil?” 

“There’s a secret entrance under the walls of the Gallows.” He stepped closer to her, “Come with me tonight, please. Help me find the evidence of Ser Alrik’s Tranquil Solution. According to the report he’s bringing the proposal to Val Royeaux, to the Divine herself.”

“That’s what he’s calling it?”

He nodded, “He would turn every mage in Thedas into a drooling simpleton under his command.” The idea sent Justice grumbling again. Anders begged for patience, they would get justice tonight.

Hawke took his hand, tracing her finger over the glimmers of blue light that flickered there. She looked up at him, “I wouldn’t let you face this alone.”

Anders sighed, relief flooding through him. He knew she wouldn’t say no, but still knowing she was as adamant about it as he was helped. He tucked her hair behind one ear, and looked deep into her eyes, those oh so pale blue eyes. “You are the one bright light in Kirkwall.”

She blushed again, but her eyes stayed locked with his for several very long moments. Eventually she pulled away, “I’ll go get us some help if you don’t mind.”

He nodded faintly even as anxiety coiled in his gut again. “As long as they knew what they’re getting into.”

She turned and started pulling on her discarded armor. “I’ll be back before too long, so be ready."

*******

Sekhmet stopped short taking in the scene before her. A room full of Templars, all but one in helmets and a girl who was obviously a mage. The girl couldn’t have been older than 18 and looked terrified as she backed away from the Templars, palms raised defensively, “No, please. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The Templar was tall, only a few inches shorter than Anders probably; his head was bald and when he spoke his voice conjured images of a dirty old man offering little girls sweets. “That’s a lie. What do we do to mages who lie?”

The girl was shaking, “I just wanted to see my mum. No one ever told her where they were taking me.”

“No,” Sekhmet’s head turned to look at Anders who had just spoken. His skin was cracked and the light of Justice’s spirit fire was seeping through. “No, this is their place, we cannot…” His voice trailed off as Justice subsided again.

Ser Alrik’s voice was making Sekhmet’s skin crawl. “So, you admit your attempted escape. You know what happens to mage girls who don’t toe the line around here, don’t you?”

The girl fell to her knees, “Please no, don’t make me Tranquil. I’ll do anything.”

You could hear the sneer in the man’s voice. “That’s right; once you’re Tranquil you’ll do anything I ask.”

She restrained herself. She’d promised Ser Alrik to Anders and she’d keep her word but she was putting an end to this harassment now. “Enough! The Chantry may frown upon Templars who take personal advantage of their charges. But I believe on a more hands on approach. I tend to just behead them.”

Ser Alrik spun around, as did the rest of his Templars. She wasn’t interested in them, just the slimy bastard tormenting the young girl. She reminded herself again; his head was for Anders and forced herself to remain still. Hands clenched into fists as her side.

“Who’s this?” Alrik demanded.

Varric, who looked almost as angry as she felt, answered before she had a chance to. “It’s the Divine, come all the way from Orlais to tell you personally what a jackass you are.”

“I want their balls, Hawke.” Isabela snarled from behind her, the words almost lost under Justice’s growl beside her.

She wasn’t sure whether Anders let Justice through or if the Fade spirit had finally seen enough. Either way he came through in a blue flash, twirling Anders’ staff almost like a sword. “You fiends will never touch a mage again.” The voice had started as two, Anders and Justice both easily discernible, but it had finished with just Justice’s voice.

The Templars charged at them en masse and Hawke went to work. Varric’s bow sung as arrow after arrow found a new home in Templars. Isabela was screaming obscenities when Sekhmet looked to see her for a moment found that the pirate queen was indeed separating Templars from their manhood before she killed them. Was it wrong that Sekhmet wanted to beam with pride at that?

Justice had taken Alrik down quickly, stomping angrily on the Templar’s face once he was down before moving on to kill others. And Sekhmet felt like she had come home as she decapitated Templars and dodged their too slow attacks. When it was over and all the Templars lie dead at their feet Justice was clearly left still not satisfied.

He looked around, twirling Anders’ staff again. Was he still using that old cracked staff? Justice’s voice rang out, “They will die; I will have every last Templar for these abuses.”

She walked up to him, the anger still burning hot inside her from what they had witnessed. “We’ll kill them all, I promise.”

Justice turned towards her, his spirit fire flaring brighter, “Everyone of them will feel justice’s burn.”

Did he mean justice as in the concept, or did he mean he would burn them all to ash? It didn’t really matter, either way the bastards would be dead. And hopefully she’d get a chance to see it all happen even.

The mage girl backed away from them, and screamed hysterically at Justice. “Get away from me, demon.”

Hawke had to squeeze her eyes closed for a moment as Justice flared white hot momentarily as he rounded on Ella stalking towards her menacingly. “I am no demon. Are you one of them that you would call me such?”

Once she was able to open her eyes Sekhmet moved forward quickly. She needed to calm Justice down, she needed Anders back. “Anders, she’s not a Templar, she’s a mage. We just rescued her from Ser Alrik, from being made Tranquil.”

********

Anders dragged himself out of the stupor that sometimes overtook him when Justice was particularly angry. _“That’s Hawke’s voice. What is she calling me for? Justice if you hurt her I swear I will march into the Gallows and demand to be made Tranquil.”_

Justice answered him quickly, _“She has fought for Justice. I will not hurt the woman.”_

He was ready to relax, to let Justice finish his work but Hawke’s voice penetrated the fog again. Her tone was at the same time both admonishing and imploring. He fought back, clawing through the fog. He didn’t know what she needed but Justice clearly wasn’t going to give it to her. 

Justice fought him viscously trying to keep him under, keep him oblivious for some reason. And suddenly Anders saw it. Justice was about to kill a girl, a mage because the spirit claimed he could smell the Templars hold on her. Fear bloomed sharp and bitter inside Anders. He had to stop Justice from killing the poor girl they’d only managed to save moments before. 

He’d become too complacent, trusting Justice to hand over control once the fight was over. And as much as he wanted to be angry about Justice’s betrayal he knew his anger would fuel Justice and weaken himself. So, he’d deal with that another time for now he just had to get control. 

When he finally managed to break through Justice had already started unleashing a spell on her. It was strong but mostly unformed magic. Unable to dissipate it quickly enough Anders pulled back the spell, jerking backward as he did. He knew he’d pay for it but at least the girl would be alive. 

The spell recoiled slamming into him and knocking him to his knees. He doubled over and covered his burning eyes. Quick footsteps led away from him, the girl running to safety he hoped. He retched as the spell rippled through him still. 

When he pulled himself together enough to open his eyes he expected to find himself alone. But there was Hawke standing in front of him quietly. He caught her gaze expecting loathing but saw only compassion. 

It was too much, how many times did she need to him at his worst before she realized he deserved her loathing not her compassion? Didn’t she understand? “If you hadn’t…” he couldn’t take Hawke’s gentle gaze, he had to get out of here, away from her. 

He stood slowly to make sure he was steady before bolting. Hawke called after him but he didn’t slow. He didn’t slow until he was back in his clinic. He slammed the door behind him and hoped Hawke would leave him alone. 

This was all too much, he had to start being honest with himself. The idea that he and Justice were just trying to help mages was a lie. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but now everyone knew the truth. He and Justice really were a monster. 

Would Hawke wise up and come to put him down herself before he did something worse, before he killed some poor innocent? He strode to his desk yanking drawers open and pulling out his manifesto. Angrily, he threw it in the fire. It was nothing more than lies and he was tired of lies. 

Setting the pages ablaze felt…not good but true and real. He stalked through the clinic gathering up any and all vestiges of anything that had to do with Justice. He wanted it all gone. 

As he searched he wondered how Hawke had managed to get through to him. Somehow he had heard her voice, even through Justice’s rage. He had heard her voice and had been able to stop himself.

And when he ran, he had run away as much from her as from himself. He was becoming too dependent on her, and what happened when she finally left? Anders would have nothing to hold him back, hold him in check and he would lose himself to Justice forever. 

His body shuddered at the sound of her approaching footsteps. He steeled himself for her ire, her condemnation at last. But instead, her voice had been gentle and reassuring. How could she be so sure of him when even he had so many doubts? How could she be so trusting, so blind?

They were alone, she’d come to him alone, even after what he’d nearly done. And she was being so damned nice, so damned sweet. He found himself watching her lips as she spoke trying to distract himself from her gentle words. Who painted their lips purple? It was such an odd color.

Why was she still defending him? His mind wanted desperately to cling to her, to the comfort she was offering. He just wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless, tell her how much he loved her, how he had loved her for years now. But that was sheer insanity; he had to be rational while he still could.

“You have too much faith in me.” He turned to move away from her, put some space between them so he could think clearly. With her so near his thoughts were more on her than on how much he hated what he had become.

She scowled and stepped close, gripping his arm tight, her squared off nails dug into his arm. Her voice had finally taken on an edge, a bit of anger. “Pull yourself together Anders. You think I’ve never crossed the line, never lost myself so completely to the fight that I did something I couldn’t take back?”

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before speaking again. “I know you think of yourself as a healer and that’s great, admirable. But it’s not all you are and it hasn’t been for a long time, long before Justice happened. We’re killers, every single one of us. With the possible exception of Sebastian we all started killing before we ever met. You need to make peace with that.” 

He looked at her, not sure how to respond. She was right of course. He’d become a killer long before he met her, before he’d even met Justice. But it felt different, like before it had been something he had done and now…because of Justice it was part of who he was. “What if that creature…”

She shook her head and cut him off. “I think you’d find that if you just accepted it as part of who you are it would be easier to get control over. Instead of working together, the two of you spend most of your time fighting each other. You want the same things, so why is it so hard?”

How was he supposed to answer that? He had no idea why he did half the things he did anymore and she was a prime example. “I don’t know. Why is it so hard for you and me?”

A small smile curved her purple lips. “That one’s easy. I want something from you that you’re not willing to give.”

He closed his eyes briefly, pain touching him again. “Something, I can’t give.”

She was quiet for several beats then sighed heavily and spoke. “Look, I found this on Ser Alrik. You were right about his plan but it looks like he already tried to go to Meredith and the Divine. They both refused his proposal.”

He opened his eyes, surprised. Was there still some glimmer decency in Meredith? He honestly hadn’t thought she had it in her. He took the parchment from her hand and scanned it quickly. He read it and reread it afraid to believe it. Maybe things weren’t as dire as he’d feared. He had to think this all over: trying to accept that he was no longer a healer, Hawke’s voice pulling him to awareness in time to save the mage, Meredith not as lost as he had thought, and the biggest threat to mages to date being the lunacy of a madman. It was a lot to take in. “I have to think on this.”

She flashed him a small smile. “Is this your polite way of kicking me out?”

He couldn’t return her smile but he was gentle with her. “I just have a lot to think about right now.”

“Of course, you know where to find me if you want to talk.”

He nodded, “Thanks Hawke, for everything.”

Another smile, this one smaller more intimate, more genuine. Then she was walking out of the clinic, leaving him alone with his thoughts.


	32. Death Will Set You Free

Sitting in Varric’s suite in The Hanged Man, Anders slowly sipped his ale and swapped stories with him. He enjoyed spending time with Varric who never expected anything from Anders. They could swap stories, or Anders could sit and just listen to Varric telling stories. It got him out of Darktown and let him relax a bit. Hawke didn’t go to the Hanged Man very often; she was too busy running around solving everyone’s problems.

And that was a good thing. It had been several days since the incident with Ser Alrik and he hadn’t exactly been avoiding her, but wasn’t sure he was ready to face her again. Every night he’d headed out for different reasons and each night when he returned he’d found his dinner left for him in his room, leaving him to wonder why he bothered with locks at all. 

Hawke hadn’t returned to the clinic to help with patients yet, but it was only a matter of time. He’d been thinking a lot about all she had said, especially about him being a killer. She’d already demonstrated that what had happened under the Gallows hadn’t bothered her. Anders on the other hand was still upset and more than a little horrified. 

Add to that his difficulty in remembering exactly why getting between Hawke and Sebastian was a bad idea, and it was just better that he hadn’t run into her. There was a snapping, snarling, sharp fanged beast inside of him that reared its ugly head and glared with wicked green eyes everytime he thought of her with Sebastian. His jealousy was an unwelcome realization. Hawke had her claws deeply entrenched in him, whether she realized it or not. And jealousy was a fairly new emotion for him.

Although Justice grumbled about Anders’ jealousy he complained less and less about Hawke. He almost seemed to appreciate her to some extent after she had gone after the Templars with him. The fact that she had promised the two of them would kill all the Templars had pleased the spirit greatly. And without Justice’s vitriol towards her Anders had a harder time denying his own desires.

This was where evenings with Varric had come in. The dwarf didn’t seem to mind Anders imposing on him, especially when Anders shared more stories of his time with the Wardens. The storyteller was as enamored of the Wardens as everyone else Anders had ever met. 

As Varric started with another tale Anders thought he heard Hawke’s voice. He cocked his head towards the door and heard it again. His heart started pounding and his skin tingled; he really shouldn’t miss her so much. 

Abruptly, he stood up, “Uh, I’ll catch up with you later Varric.” He strode from the room just as Hawke reached the door. He felt her gaze on him for several long and silent moments before she went into Varric’s suite. Without a word he hurried towards the tavern door. Let her think what she must, she hadn’t spoken either.

He was halfway out the door when Isabela tugged on his sleeve. “Hey handsome, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Home” he said tersely. 

“Off to your dark cave to pine?”

Anders closed his eyes and gritted his teeth; it irritated him that Isabela was incessantly on his case about Hawke. He wished she would just mind her own business and let it be. “I need to get the clinic ready for the morning.” 

“Hawke will be back in a few minutes, why don’t you wait and have a pint with us?” She drawled.

Amazing, five seconds in the woman’s company and he was already getting a headache. “Izzy, give me a break will you?”

Smiling and moving so her body was just a hair’s breadth from his she whispered in his ear, “Not a chance.”

His eyes skipped over her body briefly, Maker, that was a lot of cleavage. Possessed or not he was still a man. “What do you want?” He utterly failed to keep the irritation from his voice.

“Me? Oh, I think a little time with me, you and Hawke sounds absolutely divine.” She wrapped her arms around her as she spoke, lifting her breasts a little, as if they needed the help.

Anders shifted uncomfortably at the images that conjured in his mind. Damn her, he had a hard enough time sleeping as it was without picturing that. He did, however, file them away for later when he was alone. He was pretty sure Hawke wouldn’t mind.

“You know, I remember you from the Pearl, you were a lot more fun then.” She pouted as she grabbed a handful of his coat and dragged him across the room to an empty table.

“Yeah, well this all used to be much easier for me.” He grumbled, slightly irritated at being thwarted from a clean escape. He didn’t really fight her though, so he obviously didn’t want out that badly.

“What?”

Anders gestured vaguely around him, “Sex, women, men, smiling, laughing, drinking, you name it. But I’m not that guy anymore, Isabela. You need to stop trying to goad me.”

Isabela quirked a brow and ignored half of what he said. Moving close to him again she practically purred in his ear, “What guy,” as she reached for his hair.

He grabbed her arm and pinned it to the table, he didn’t want the pirate queen touching him like that. She always needed to push his buttons, he usually kept himself calm and as detached as possible from her goading, but he was nearing the end of his rope in general. It took all of his restraint to control Justice and to steer clear of temptation with Hawke; the frayed ends of his nerves didn’t need much prompting to make his temper flare anymore.

“The guy who could charm a table full of women and bed them all in the same night.” Isabela’s eyes went a little wide as he continued, still pinning her arm. “The guy who wouldn’t bother looking for a bed, all he needed was a bit of wall space to lean you against or something to bend you over. The guy whose only concern was what feels good right now.” 

Isabela’s eyes had darkened, her gaze flicked away from his for a second before looking back. She started to rise and whispered into his ear before she left the table. “Well you come and find me if that Anders comes back. He sounds like the man I met at the Pearl, and I would _love_ to see him again.”

Anders shook his head as she started to leave. He saw Hawke reach the table and sit down. She smiled and tilted her head towards Isabela. “She looking for more medical help, or for a bed partner?”

Anders returned the smile, “Hard to tell with her.”

She gave a small sigh, “I don’t know how she does it. I mean I guess I do, there was a time…but, it just seems so easy for her.”

He kept his mouth shut about her near slip; after all he wasn’t supposed to know about her life in Lothering. “What’s that?”

She shook her head, “Nothing.” She watched Isabela at the bar laughing and flirting with two men.

Anders followed her gaze, then turned back to look at Hawke closely. Was she serious? “Wait, are you jealous of her?”

She shrugged, “Men love her, women love her. What did that idiot call her? ‘A dusky goddess’? And I can’t even get a man into bed when I’m mostly naked and practically begging for it.”

That just wasn’t fair; then again Hawke never really did play fair. Anders knew he had to tread very carefully, he was wading into dangerous waters, but the sad look in her eyes was killing him. “Isabela is a trick, an illusion. There’s no substance there, she hides behind alcohol and cleavage so she doesn’t need to think about or feel anything real. It’s a shallow and lonely existence.”

Hawke scoffed as she continued to watch Isabela. “Doesn’t look very lonely to me.”

“You’ll just have to trust me on that one.”

She shifted her gaze to him, “Are we speaking from personal experience?”

He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “Yes, actually. I wasn’t all that different from her a few years ago.”

She tilted her head and studied his face. “Before Justice.”

Anders nodded in the affirmative. “Before Justice.”

“You smiled more though.”

“Did I?” He tried to hold still as she touched his face, it was hard not to close his eyes and lean into her touch. 

“You have laugh lines around your eyes, but I can’t remember ever seeing you really laugh, a little chuckle, but not a real laugh.”

He took her wrist and pulled her hand away from his face, he couldn’t take her touching him. It was its own kind of torture. Another man, another man, she belongs to another man he reminded himself. And as a healer he was supposed to do no harm, which meant he wouldn’t make the man impotent, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Pushing thoughts of Sebastian aside he concentrated on the topic at hand. “Maybe I’m just getting old.” 

She smiled at him, apparently unperturbed by him moving her hand away. “You’re a really bad liar.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile again. “You have no idea how old I am. How could you possibly know if I’m lying?”

“I don’t need to know how old you are to know that you’re lying about the lines being related to your age. Admit it, you used to smile more.”

He nodded, “You’re right, I did smile more. But I was a lot more self absorbed. You probably wouldn’t have spoken to me.”

She gave him that little smirk again and he felt his heart thud in his chest. “I don’t know. Good looking man like you? I think I would have noticed.”

He thought about who he had been then, would he have appreciated her like he did now? He was pretty sure the answer was no. “Well, I’m glad we didn’t meet then.”

“Wow, that’s a new kind of rejection. Not even ‘naked, wandering around a brothel Anders’ would bed me? Maybe I should buy a new looking glass, clearly mine isn’t working.” She meant it as a joke, but there was a thread of bitterness to her words.

“I meant because I would have taken my pleasure with you and been gone before morning. It’s likely I wouldn’t even remember your name.” He took a deep breath. “No matter how much I smiled and enjoyed myself…with you.”

Her smile was gone now. “Oh.”

His voice was quiet. “Yeah.” There were several moments of silence and Anders wished he hadn’t left his drink in Varric’s suite. He could at least drink it instead of sitting there and awkwardly avoiding eye contact. When he did finally look at her, she had her eyes closed. “Hawke?”

“Huh?” She opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“You know, it never dawned on me before, I wonder if I can remember the…uh… names.” She looked a tad embarrassed to Anders’ surprise.

He looked at her speculatively, “And?”

She gave him an enigmatic smile. “I should go, it’s getting late.” She rose and left him sitting at the table as she exited the tavern.

********

Sekhmet walked into the library, not sure what she would find. Her hands were balled tightly and she had to consciously work to open them. No matter what Sebastian wanted to see her for they wouldn’t fight. It wasn’t his style.

He looked so serious, so earnest. Oh Maker, he was here to tell her he couldn’t be friends with someone like her, a cold blooded killer, a murderer, someone who openly defied the Chantry. The idea almost made her wish she wasn’t all those things, or that at least she wanted to change. 

“I wasn’t sure you would want to see me.” His startling teal eyes were wary.

“Of course I wanted to see you.” She ventured a small smile.

“I missed you.” It was almost a whisper.

She didn’t want to look at him hopefully, didn’t want to seem like she was begging him to just accept her the way she was. Was it wrong though? Was it so wrong to want at least one person to know her for who she was and to truly accept her anyways? She tried to control her face, she wanted to be strong.

He closed the distance between them smiling slowly and cautiously. “Still friends?”

The quick sand that had been trying to pull her down into its dark depths suddenly let her go. She stepped forward, smile widening and hugged him. “I was afraid you hated me.” She whispered in a rush.

He hugged her tight. “I was a lost man for a long time. The Chantry gave me purpose and direction. Sometimes it’s hard to remember it isn’t the same for everyone.” He rubbed her back gently. “I won’t always be able to support what you do, but I won’t interfere.”

She basked in the hug, and his acceptance for several minutes before she finally released him. She beamed up at him, “And I’ll try not to drag you along if it’s a job I know you would find objectionable.”

Her mother walked in carrying a silver serving tray, “Hello you two, I brought you some tea and biscuits.” 

Sekhmet suppressed the urge to laugh at her mother’s hopeful look. Obviously, she still had hopes of marrying her daughter to the possible Prince of Starkhaven. She took the tray from her mother and set it down on a small table. She gently ushered her mother from the room.

Sebastian was smiling as he walked over to sit on the small sofa. “Why do I have the feeling she was eyeing me up?”

She chuckled, “Probably because you have good instincts.” She poured two cups of tea and snagged two biscuits before settling down beside Sebastian. She handed him a biscuit and a cup of tea.

Sebastian was looking at her curiously for several moments and she just smirked. Eventually, smart guy that he was, he figured it out. His eyes went wide and he sat back a bit.

“Oh, does she think I’m here to court you?” Sebastian looked mortified.

Sekhmet giggled, “You don’t have to look like it’s a terrifying prospect you know.”

He shook his head, “I just…why would she think that?”

She shrugged, “It’s more that she’s hoping. She so desperately wants me to find a husband and who better than a prince.” 

“But I’m not…I mean, I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.” 

She quirked a brow at him, amused at how flustered he was, “Relax, I’ve already told her that I have no interest in marriage and that the two of us are just friends. Reality, however, seems to have little effect on her hopes.”

He relaxed back into the sofa and took a small sip of tea. “I suppose you can’t fault her for wanting what she thinks is best for you.”

“You really think marriage is the best thing for me?” She relaxed back as well, getting comfortable. It was nice talking with Sebastian again.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.” He responded softly.

She shifted a little, surprised. “You sound like you’re warming up to the idea Sebastian.”

“I never said that.” He answered even more quietly that before.

“Well, I think it’s a terrible idea. I’m not exactly prime wife material. Can you imagine her rooking some poor noble into marrying me? I’d drive him straight into an early grave.” She snickered at the picture of some poor young noble haggard and pulling out his hair after trying to chase after her.

Sebastian started laughing, probably envisioning something similar. “Alright, maybe it’s not a perfect fit…yet. Someday though…”

“Yeah, and someday it might rain sovereigns and griffons will fill the skies.” 

He laughed harder, almost spilling his tea. “Did I mention I missed you?”

********

She’d asked Varric, Isabela and Anders to come give her a hand in Hightown tonight. Yesterday Sebastian had told her about one of the Chantry sisters having been robbed and beaten. And today when she had been heading down to the clinic a group of thugs had dared to attack her in broad daylight.

She’d taken a blade to the shoulder, but had fended off the bulk of the attack and managed to keep her coin as well. Anders had left his patients and dragged her back to his little room at the back of the clinic before helping her take her armor off. He’d ripped her tunic to take a look at the wound.

As the fabric had rent between his long fingers his eyes had darkened, the pupils widening significantly. He’d actually stopped and shaken his head before biting the tip of his tongue and healing her shoulder. When she audibly sighed in relief he’d bitten his tongue so hard she thought he was going to bite it clear off.

She’d kept her mouth shut and not remarked on it all day. Once the clinic doors were closed for the evening she’d cornered him at his work table. He looked flustered, and was it just her or did he look just the slightest bit hungry? While she wasn’t usually an optimist, where Anders was concerned it seemed hope sprang eternal.

She’d slipped the pins from her hair, watching him lick his lips as she did. After the time he’d asked for it she let her hair down often around him when they were alone. And each time he seemed pleased and distracted. “So, feel like heading back to your room and you can finish what you started with my tunic.”

She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she would get. There were times she was certain Anders was as attracted to her as she was to him, and other times she was positive he saw her more as a pest than anything. He seemed to enjoy her company well enough, but it wasn’t as if he sought her out. 

And from time to time she wondered how he would react if she just came out and announced that she loved him. She’d do anything for him, and she was pretty sure he knew it. But did he understand why? 

Anders inhaled sharply at her invitation, possibly shocked or more likely just caught off guard. He recovered himself quickly enough, stepping back away from her. He even managed to scowl, “Weren’t you saying earlier you needed to take care of the thugs in Hightown tonight?”

She cocked her head, “I’m sure they can wait.”

She saw him fighting a smile; saw the wicked twinkle in his eyes that said he had a good response. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Come on, I’ll walk you back to Hightown. Varric and Izzy are going to meet us at your estate, aren’t they?”

She wanted to scream at him to relax, just let himself go. Why was he holding the reins so tightly? She knew his sense of humor well enough. Instead of arguing with him when he was already wound so tight she let it drop. She was starting to worry though; he’d been a bit quiet all day, pensive. “I’ll wait outside while you lock up.”

He nodded and headed for his room to lock the door. She waited patiently for him, wondering if he was still a bit sensitive after the incident below the Gallows. He’d been markedly different since that day, quieter, a little withdrawn and he seemed to have a hard time meeting her eyes. 

She didn’t like it; she missed their little game already. As they jogged up the steps from Darktown into Hightown she brushed her hand gently across the back of his needing at least a little touch. He shivered a little but didn’t slow or turn to look at her. _“I’m screaming for you Anders, can’t you hear me?”_ She asked silently. Could he really not see how much she needed him? 

She brushed against his hand feeling tingles shoot across her skin at the scant contact. This time Anders stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. She resolved not to be hurt by it, chalking it up to him still struggling with what had happened with Ella. It was a better thought than the alternative.

They reached her estate in silence. When she reached for the door handle she noticed Anders stiffen a little. Was he thinking of his last visit inside the estate? She supposed it might have made her anxious if their roles were reversed. She wanted to hug him and tell him it was alright but managed to restrain herself. “We can wait outside if you like. I try to keep my mother’s exposure to Isabela to a minimum anyways.”

He nodded and turned away from the door and started to pace almost immediately. She wished she knew what he was so wound up about. It was like every moment since they had left the clinic he had become more and more anxious. Was she keeping him from something important?

Figuring if it was something important he would tell her, she leaned against the wall in the little alcove to the estate to wait. It was already sundown so they shouldn’t have to wait for long. Minutes ticked by and Varric and Isabela still hadn’t shown up. 

Anders was pacing back and forth clearly uncomfortable in her presence. She wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with him, but maybe it would be better for them both if they just spoke about it. And since he was keeping his own counsel, not so much as looking at her she’d have to be the one to broach the subject, or at least try to.

“Anders, I’m not sure what’s going on with you. If I did something, I’m sorry. Just tell me so I don’t do it again.” She hated feeling like there was an ocean between them. Things between the two of them were usually so easy. Talking was easy, fighting was easy, making up was easy, well at least it was once the two of them stopped being so damned stubborn.

He paused for a moment and turned back to look at her before turning away with a sigh and a shake of his head. He didn’t even bother to respond to her. She felt the first frission of anger stirring. What the Void was his problem?

“Hey, I said I was sorry.” It was bad enough they were stuck waiting for Varric and Isabela, something she was terrible at. Now he was ignoring her and she was even worse at being ignored.

After a few more minutes of silence and pacing she snarled at him before heading to the door. “I’m going inside to wait so you can pout like a petulant child alone.”

He turned to face her finally, “You think I’m childish.” He let out an angry growl, “I’ve never met someone so childish, so selfish in her whims and desires. You never stop to think about what anyone else wants or needs. You never stop to think about other people’s feelings. You play your stupid games regardless of the consequences. Someone should take you over their knee and tan your hide like the child you are.”

Sekhmet had paused at the door to listen to him and when he finished his little tirade she laughed turning to look at him over her shoulder. “Anytime you think you’re man enough, sweetheart.”

She was yanked away from the door and shoved back up against the wall in a flash. The jolt jarring her and making her teeth click together. Anders was standing over her, his height making her feel very small as his eyes flashed with anger and she thought just for a moment she had seen a sliver of desire there as well but couldn’t be sure. Him standing so close to her, looming over her was making her heart race and her head swim. 

He might not have felt anything but she sure did. Her heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. Although, having the gorgeous man that was Anders looming over her had her getting moist elsewhere. She had to resist the urge to throw her arms around him and pull him into a kiss or to just beg him to fuck her already. Tingles spread over her skin as she imagined him taking his anger and frustration out on her body. Just a kiss, a bloody kiss, was that asking so much? 

He leaned over her a little further, his weight resting on his hands placed on either side of her head on the wall. “You should be careful who you make challenges like that to, little girl.”

********

He had expected her to be angry at his treatment of her or at the very least being caged in, but she just looked at him with a naked want in her eyes and it was having it’s affect on Anders. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him with so much raw desire in their eyes. It had been years probably and the full force of it had lit a fire inside of him.

His heart was trip hammering in his chest and he felt a tingle in his groin. Maker, she looked fucking delicious pinned underneath him. The only thing that would have made it better would have been if her hair was still down. Maybe he should just pull those few pins from her hair, bury his fingers in the snow white locks and breathe deeply of her wild scent. His fingers were itching at the thought.

Would she still look at him like that if he had her spread out on a bed? Would she be as impatient in bed as she was everywhere else? Would she beg him to fill her? He liked to think she would, that she would be as desperate for him as he was for her. He suppressed the urge to moan, he couldn’t give away how much he wanted her because with the way she was looking at him he wasn’t sure she would stop him and then they both might be lost.

Her smile turned up into a smirk, not the one she used for mildly amusing jokes but the one she used when she had the upper hand in whatever they were doing or whoever they were dealing with. Her voice was a low sensuous purr with just a hint of contempt at the end. “Who you? You’re as harmless as a kitten. You’re not even man enough to take me to bed no matter how many times I offer. I’m supposed to believe that you’re going to spank me?” 

She laughed at him then and it took all of Anders’ restraint not to turn her around yank off her armor, tear her clothes out of the way and fuck her there against the stone wall of her estate. It was late, past sundown, and there were enough shadows that there was only a slim chance of them being caught. But a quick fuck in a dark corner? It smacked too much of his life in the tower.

He stared at her, at the want in her eyes and just drank her in. Even if he could never do any of the things to her he imagined he could cherish moments like this. Moments where he had barely touched her and she was ready to give him anything he wanted. Did she react like this, act the wanton for her Chantry Prince? 

He shoved the thought violently aside; the thought of Sebastian just made Anders want to put some kind of claim on her. Not just to take her, to fill her with his admittedly useless seed but to mark her, to let everyone know that Sekhmet Hawke was his. He groaned and leaned forward when the smell of her arousal hit him. 

It made him reel to think about how wet she must be that he could smell her through her small clothes, trousers and leather armor. He wanted to taste her, to kiss her and taste her lips to see what it would be like to have that wicked little mouth of hers open under his. He wanted kneel between her legs and lap up every drop of moisture collected there. How long since he'd tasted a woman?

This was an entirely new game. And the game they were playing now was dangerous. It was like they were both pushing, waiting to see who would blink first. It was so delightfully dangerous and wicked; he had missed this part of himself. 

The part that liked the chase, that liked to see how much someone could take before they flinched, before they caved. And once they had Anders was only too happy to give them what they both so desperately wanted. Only this time was different, Anders should have stopped, should have forced himself away from her, but couldn’t seem to.

With his head lowered next to hers and his lips close enough that they brushed against the shell of her ear he let her hear how arousal had deepened and roughened his voice, as he whispered in her ear. “I can smell you, Hawke.” The tone leaving no doubt to what he was referring to.

She whimpered and gripped onto his arm like she would fall without its support. He licked his lips, letting her feel the barest hint of his tongue against her earlobe and she sighed again. It wasn’t enough, he needed more of her. 

He dropped his head further, turning it to let the tip of his nose touch her neck before tracing it up over her pale white throat. Her fingers dug deeply into his hair, pulling chunks of it loose to tickle his neck. And for once there was only the dullest thought from the back of his mind to stop, this was a bad idea.

He wanted her, had wanted her since the day he had met her and he had been good, so damned good. He had denied himself what she so freely offered again and again. But this, the smell of her, the feel of her soft flesh, was a temptation too far. He dropped one of his hands to her waist and moved his body closer to her, he wanted to touch more, taste more. 

“Anders please,” her words were soft and pleading, and gloriously beautiful coming from her. 

He had been just nuzzling her neck, relishing the feel of her soft skin and the smallness of her waist. But with the plea his body reacted not bothering to check with his head or his occupant. His body started to mould itself against hers. 

He groaned at the contact, his body screaming for more, for her skin. How had he never realized how small she was before? She seemed so tiny against him. 

The hand that had been gripping onto his arm snaked up around his neck, her leg wrapped itself around his in obvious invitation as she made her plea again. “Please, Anders, please.”

Yes, he couldn’t keep fighting this war. He was too tired of it, so consequences be damned, he would have her. He started to pull back, his own breathless whisper responding to her, “I’m done fighting.” 

He began to lift his head, desperately eager to taste her lips only to be brought slamming back to reality by someone loudly clearing their throat nearby. Anders let go of Sekhmet and stepped away from her as if burned. How had he let himself become so lost? A quick glance at Hawke showed surprise and hurt on her face.

He couldn’t blame her; he had all but seduced her moments before. Anders pulled the leather thong from his mussed hair and walked out of the alcove nodding to Varric who said nothing. Anders was thankful for his long coat, which easily concealed how hard he was. Glancing at the alcove, where Hawke was still mostly hidden, he couldn’t believe how out of hand he had let things get in such a public place. 

Hawke took a bit longer to pull herself from the alcove. And when Anders saw the carefully blank look on her face and the way she wouldn’t look at him he realized he had probably just completely ruined their friendship. His abrupt withdrawal had hurt her and now she was wary of him. 

Or maybe she just finally realized how close she had come to betraying Sebastian. He was quick to quash the green eyed beast’s violent reaction to the idea. He felt disgusted enough with himself; he’d nearly bedded another man’s woman.

Isabela slapped Varric’s arm in mock anger. “It was just getting good, why did you stop them. Don’t you think nearly four years is more than enough foreplay? At this rate she’s going to be dead before he beds her.”

“Enough Isabela,” Hawke interrupted quietly. “I’ve changed my mind about tonight. Sorry to drag you,” she paused a second, her eyes almost looking to Anders but she stopped just short of him, “three up here. I’m tired; we can clean up Hightown some other night. Maker knows there’s a steady supply of thugs.”

Isabela took the hint and disappeared right away, perhaps understanding better than anyone else that Hawke wanted to be alone right now. Varric took a step closer to Hawke. “Hey, Hawke I’m sorry. I just didn’t think …” 

She didn’t let him finish, “There’s nothing to apologize for Varric, I’m just tired.”

Varric stayed for another moment looking miserable, perhaps realizing that Anders and Hawke would never be that close to consummating their “relationship” again. Finally, he too turned and left. 

Anders waited, hoping to salvage something between them. “Hawke,”

He didn’t get any further, with her back turned to him she said clearly, “Good night.” An obvious dismissal, and if she wanted to be alone it was the least he could do.

He paused around the corner trying to pull himself together. He was so infuriated with himself. How could he have been so careless? How could he have let all of that happen? And it was his fault, there was no one else to blame. 

Hawke never hid what she wanted, never pretended that she didn’t want him. If they were to remain friends it was his responsibility not to get involved with her more than necessary. It was his responsibility not to make stupid decisions like tonight.

His thoughts were caught off guard when Justice pushed at him. _“Anders, she’s coming we need to go.”_

Anders quickly moved down the alley and to the stairs heading to Darktown. He paused in the shadows just out of view and watched as Hawke practically stomped to the door of the Blooming Rose and Anders felt his heart clench. Was she running to Rose so she wouldn’t taint her prince with arousal stoked by another man?

He seethed momentarily at the idea that yet another man would touch her. Another man would taste her when he could not. Another man would get to experience that unbridled wildness in her and all he could do was sit by and crave, and dream, and wish.

She paused with her hand on the door then released it and kicked the door in anger, “Fuck” the word echoed around square. She stepped away fists grinding at her eyes and Anders realized she was trying to wipe away tears.

“I tried to warn you.” He whispered, his own chest tight and aching. Had many ever made her cry? And what kind of friend did that make him? What kind of man hurt a woman as strong as Hawke until it literally brought her to tears? A bastard, that’s who, he was born one and was clearly clinging to the legacy.

He was about to turn and head down the stairs to hide in his clinic in Darktown. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be seeing Hawke for a while. Or maybe she would never ask him for help again. And as much as the first thought scared him, the second terrified him. The thought of his life without her in it in at least some way was just too painful to think about.

He stopped when he saw her pull her daggers and start heading the Dwarven Merchant’s guild. That place was always swarming with all sorts of scum. She was apparently planning on taking them on by herself. 

Anders hurried after her, not sure whether he should offer to help, that might make things worse. Or maybe he should hang back and just make sure she was alright. But she would be furious if she knew he was watching. Eventually, he decided to just watch over her, let her wear herself out and make sure she returned to her home safely. 

No sooner had she stepped into the area of the city used by the guild than she was attacked. He watched her as she worked out her pain and fury on as many thugs as she could find in the city. And there was no doubt that she was furious, her angry screams and shouts as she killed bandit after bandit were a little startling.

Even more unsettling than that were the sounds that sounded like sobs. He had never seen her show so much raw emotion before. All the men and women who were dying under her blade were dying because of what Anders had done to Hawke. Not that they wouldn’t have died anyways, they were the reason the four of them had been meeting tonight. So they could wipe them out and let the city return to peace for a while again.

It was hours later when she began a second sweep of the city. The city guards rightly steered clear of her. And was it any wonder? She was a sight, blood and gore clung to her armor, it was difficult to tell what color her armor was supposed to be. Her hair hung in sweaty clumps and was streaked with blood as well. Her chest was heaving with her exhaustion and her hands were shaking a little. 

She was well past the point where she should have been heading home. She’d already bandaged herself with a half dozen health poultices. It had taken all of Anders' resolve not to heal her from afar. The poor woman looked wrecked. 

And she had been especially cruel tonight. Usually she liked to stab her victims in the heart or slit their throats, it was quick and efficient for the most part. But tonight she had seemed to take pleasure in leaving her victims to suffer. 

She would hack at them until they could barely stand before she’d go for an artery and let them bleed out. Or she would gut them and tip her blade up to pull some of their entrails loose as she pulled the blade from their body. And she would watch their looks of horror and fear with cruel eyes. 

He had seen her come apart like this before. It was similar to what she had done after the incident in the Deep Roads with Bethany. Instead of begging a possessed mage to fuck her or to hit her she was taking out her rage and pain on the thugs of Hightown and he felt sorry for them. 

Even her face was smeared with blood; it was hard to imagine that this was the same woman who sat and spent hours talking and laughing with him and Varric in the Hanged Man. This woman seemed more like a goddess of death. His mind flashed briefly back to the story Isabela had told him. 

Maybe Hawke was more like her name sake than any of them thought. He felt a flush of frustration and anger at himself for being the one to bring that side of her out. Worse than that though he was angry that even like this, covered in gore and blood, slaughtering thugs recklessly, he found her incredibly sexy and loved her even more than he had before.

She was right, he was a killer and he loved her because she was a woman after his own heart. He suddenly, desperately wanted to join her. To rip these thugs to pieces, to revel in the blood spill until the ache in his chest eased. 

Abruptly, she paused her head turning slightly, her hands still gripping her daggers. She cocked it to one side and then a bitter smile touched her lips. “Go home Anders. Haven’t you made enough of a fool of me for one night or are you looking for one more laugh at my expense?”

She was silent for a moment and Anders swallowed hard not sure what to do. He’d thought he was keeping himself well concealed, at least enough that in her distracted state she wouldn’t notice him. Would she turn on him now? He almost wished she would.

“Come on Anders; come get one more laugh for yourself before you head back to your clinic. Or maybe it’s not as fun to fuck with my head when I’m covered in gore. It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll be able to get my stupid, gullible ass out of my leathers in no time.” Her voice was so bitter if he hadn’t seen her he would have doubted she had spoken the words.

Anders stepped into her line of sight and paused, unsure what exactly to say or do. Maybe he should have just headed back to Darktown instead of showing himself to her, but he was worried she would just go through the rest of the city to look for trouble. And then no one would be watching her to make sure something bad didn’t happened to her.

“We should talk.” He started lamely.

“About what?” She snapped. “You got what you wanted, got me to melt all over you like those idiots in the Tower. You got a good laugh out of it, and even one for Varric and Isabela. Great timing by the way.”

“You think I planned that? You think I meant to…to…” It hurt that she thought he was that callous, that vile. Wasn’t he though? Look what he kept putting her through.

Hawke’s bitter laugh echoed around the walls, “Hey, at least you warned me, told me a few stories about your past. So, its fine really, it’s my fault for being stupid enough to believe you were actually as affected as I was. How could you be?”

Anders took a few steps toward her reaching out for her, not sure what he was planning on offering her or saying to her but she recoiled from him anyway so in the end it didn’t matter. He stopped and put his arm down, his head dropping a little in acceptance. “Perhaps it would be better if we both stepped back and took a bit of break from each other. I think it would be good for both of us.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “Oh, don’t inconvenience yourself on my account. I’m fine. I learned my lesson.”

He wanted to argue with her, wanted to tell her that he was sorry. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she had no doubt that he hadn’t been playing some game with her, that he had been as deeply affected as she was. But that would be foolish, adding more problems instead of solving any. He needed to get himself back on solid ground. 

He needed some time and space to build his defenses back up. How would she take it? Would she hate him for it? Did she hate him already? “I need some time.” 

Hawke shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Fine, you can have all the time and space you want. I’ll make sure to stay out of your hair.”

She turned on her heel and walked through the streets and back to her estate where she quickly disappeared inside. Anders stayed hidden outside of the estate for an hour and a half to make sure that she wouldn’t leave again. Clinic would be closed today; he was exhausted, physically and emotionally.


	33. These Wounds Run Deep

Sekhmet was enjoying another afternoon in the Chantry’s garden with Sebastian beside her. The scent of jasmine hung heavy in the air and the garden was full of flowers Sekhmet couldn’t name if her life depended on it. But it was quiet and beautiful, and jasmine always made her feel calm and relaxed. 

Glittering flagstones wet from the morning rainfall made a twisting path through the foliage and she followed it with Sebastian at her side. Her arm looped through his, she let him lead her through to the bench they usually occupied for their visits. She let herself relax, this garden was one of the few places she felt truly safe. 

Coming to the end of the path they moved to the wooden bench, him drying it for her with a cloth she hadn’t seen him grab before they’d left his room. He looked different today and it wasn’t just the lack of his shining armor, though that was certainly noteworthy. His teal tunic, finely embroidered with white stitching accented his already startlingly pretty eyes.

Even his simple black woolen trousers and his black boots were obviously finely made. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. Sebastian wanted so badly to be just another brother in the Chantry, just a single face among dozens. But everything about him seemed noble, in the best sense of the word. His cultured voice, thick with his accent, the way he held himself, his fine arms and clothes, even the shape of his nose all betrayed him.

Releasing his arm she sat down and waited for him to join her, something was obviously bothering him, he had been rather silent during their walk. Still, his gaze seemed far off and his mind on other things as he perched beside her. The whisper of his silk tunic rasped against his woolen trousers as he sat.

“What’s on your mind today, brother?”

He gave her a smile; he enjoyed it when she called him brother because they both knew she wasn’t using it as a title. “I’ve been thinking about you and…”

“Anders,” she finished for him. As much as Anders was the very last thing she wanted to talk about she was inclined to hear what he had to say because he didn’t mention it much.

His fingers plucked at the sleeve of his tunic, a habit she found fascinating. What worried her was that he wasn’t looking at her. If he had been taking in the beautiful flowers, the verdant foliage that surrounded them it would have been better, but he was just looking at his heavily callused fingers as they toyed with the soft fabric. 

Silence fell over them for a few moments as Sebastian seemed to be gathering his thoughts. She wanted to hold onto this moment. The peace of the garden with its overflowing vines and beautiful trees, the sunlight filtered down through the foliage hanging in the lattice overhead. The soft burble of the dwarven built fountain behind them and a soft breeze cooling the afternoon heat were nearly perfect. It would be a shame to shatter the moment with admonishments.

But that was what everyone wanted to do lately, berate, badger, blame, and a dozen other things all relating to Anders. And the funny part of it was that he isolated himself from most of the others because he knew how uncomfortable he made them. But even keeping to himself didn’t seem to placate her companions. It was annoying at the best of times to hear the same rants over and over again. 

Why couldn’t they just trust that she knew what she was doing? And if they all had so little faith in her judgment then why were they following her at all. But she remained where she was waiting for Sebastian to speak again, steeling herself already for his disapproval. 

He knew she and Anders hadn’t spoken in weeks but still wanted to talk about him. “Why him?” It wasn’t accusatory, just simple curiosity.

“Why not?”

“For a dozen reasons at least, all of which I’m sure you’ve heard time and again already. But what I want to know is why. He holds you at a distance, tells you it will never work and yet you persist. Surely, there is someone more suited to you, someone who could truly appreciate you.” He was watching her closely now.

Already tense, just at the mention of Anders and feeling defensive she pushed back at him. “Someone like you?”

He sighed softly, “If there ever came a time when I chose to take a wife, I would be a lucky man indeed to have you by my side. But, no, that is not what I mean. There are plenty of other men, sister. You’ve met many, including noblemen and if you are not interested in them, have you not commented many times on being attracted to that elf Fenris?” She had upset him, or hurt him, she wasn’t sure which but she could hear it in his voice.

“Saying a man is beautiful is not the same as being attracted to him, and you know as well as I that those noblemen are too full of themselves, too self important to ever really interest me. And didn’t we just have this conversation a few weeks ago?” She shook her head, exasperated.

He smiled a little, “No, I believe that one was about marriage. This is a conversation about you longing for a man who seems to care little for your feelings.”

She dropped her head frustrated, “Is nothing in my life secret?”

His eyes twinkled mischievously, “You aren’t being serious, I hope. I mean, you are friends with Varric. I’m sure most of Kirkwall knows about your little tryst by now.”

She snorted, “Tryst? I think that’s pushing it a bit. There wasn’t so much as a kiss. And you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

He stroked her hair softly, “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

She shrugged, “It was my fault. He did warn me, I’m just apparently not all that good at listening.”

“You listen to me just fine, or are you just that good at faking it?” He teased lightly.

“Must be the accent, hard not to pay attention.” She smirked.

She stayed for a few hours, enjoying their easy banter, the lack of pressure of any kind between them. She didn’t begrudge him his questions about Anders. She liked to think of them as brotherly concern. Maybe if Carver had been alive…and if he hadn’t hated her quite so much he would have asked something similar.

She offered him the chance to come with her on her next job out on the Wounded Coast. He politely declined; he still had duties to perform for the Chantry that would make a short notice trip difficult. She assured him it was no problem before hugging him tight and leaving for the night.

********

The steps up to the second floor seemed to go on forever, like they were leading to a great yawning chasm in the sky. Her feet felt leaden as she marched up them. Ugh, dread could wear a woman down fast.

Fenris sneered at her when he caught sight of her. “Figured you’d be dragging your sorry ass to my door, thought it’d be sooner though.”

She sighed; she should have figured Izzy would run her damn mouth. “I got a job out on the Coast, you in?”

“Does that mean you’re going to introduce me to the Vael boy?” He stood and walked over to her casually.

She shook her head, “No, he can’t make it, he has other obligations. It’s going to just be you, me, Izzy, and Varric.”

“I suppose I can understand your hesitation in introducing a slave to your prince.” The sneer curled his lip again; it was such an ugly look on him.

Nice to know Fenris was still full of loathing for everyone in the world. “First of all, he’s not _my_ prince. Second, if you want to meet him, come on, I’ll take you to the Chantry right now. I happen to know he’s free for a few hours.”

The sneer fell away and he studied her for a few moments, gauging her sincerity, no doubt. “No, that’s alright another time, maybe. What’s this job out on the coast?”

“Freeing someone who has been kidnapped.” She responded quickly.

From the narrowing of his gaze she guessed it was too quickly. “Helping more mages?”

She settled her hands on her hips, preparing herself for an argument. Was it just her or was she constantly arguing with just about everyone she knew? She’d been fun once upon a time, she knew she had. So, where was that fun loving girl? Did the trip from Lothering kill her? Or maybe it was the trip _to_ Lothering that had done it. “What does it matter? You need the coin and I have a job. Or did you change your mind and take a job with that mercenary company.” 

He waived his hand dismissively, “Fine, when do we go?”

“Tomorrow morning. We’ll meet up at the Hanged Man, Varric’s suite, as per usual.” She turned to go.

“Hawke,” Fenris’ voice called out, sounding a bit stilted.

Surprised to be called back, she turned around to see what he wanted.

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It’s good to see you’re doing well.”

She smiled, relieved. Maybe he didn’t loathe her quite so much as she had suspected. “Same here, we should catch up sometime soon.”

He nodded, a little more at ease, a smile even managing to peek through. “I’d like that. See you tomorrow.”

She nodded and left, glad she’d broken down and gone to see Fenris. With the Wounded Coast as well as the roads leading there from the city crawling with Tal-Vashoth she needed a heavy hitter. She’d debated between Merrill and Fenris and in the end decided Fenris was more useful or maybe just the least annoying of the two. Aveline, as per usual was too busy to go running out of town for a few days. 

She headed for the Rose, deciding to throw back a few drinks. Maybe tonight she could manage to not get herself thrown out for starting fights. Sometimes it was hard to wait until sundown when the scum in the city slithered from their dark corners. It was the best way she’d found to work off her frustration and anger at herself.

She’d spent almost every night for weeks reigning terror down on Kirkwall’s underbelly. Some of them were smarter than others. The Coterie had advised their entire organization to steer clear of her after her little incident with Brekker. She’d killed all of his men there that day and then hunted down the rest in her anger. 

When the Coterie had retaliated for the ‘overkill’ she’d taken out all four of the raiding parties sent to kill her. Not that she’d escaped completely unscathed. She still had a nasty cut down the length of her back that wasn’t healing right.

On the other hand The Dog Lords had kept coming after her until she slaughtered them all to a man…or a dog, depending on how you looked at it. She’d been particularly angry about them. The idea of killing dogs was abhorrent to her, but what choice did she have?

She reached down and stroked Tyr’s head affectionately to ward off the disturbing thoughts. She pushed open the door to the Rose and sauntered in shooting a glare to Madame Lusine daring her to say something about her dog. The madam just rolled her eyes and walked to the other end of the bar. 

Sekhmet settled down at a table and ordered a bottle of Antivan brandy. It was as good a way as any to pass the time. Most of the Rose’s employees steered clear of her, but Jethann was always more than happy to join her. She was pretty sure he was mostly interested in the liquor she bought and not her company. 

He was pleasant enough though, even managing to wring a smile out of her every now and then. There’d been times in the last three weeks where she was pretty sure she’d never smile again. Anders…and there it was again, twin daggers of anger and pain slicing through her. The bastard, she should have gutted him for making such a fool of her. 

“Ah, our pretty snow queen with the sad eye returns to us.” Jethann smiled as he walked over to her. He stroked her cheek softly, she’d become accustomed to him constantly touching her and figured it was probably just a tool of the trade. “Why don’t you let me put a smile on those purple lips?”

She looked up at him, a little pleased. Yes, he was a whore but even after being turned down every night for three weeks he still tried to talk her into utilizing his services. Even went so far as to come up with a different approach each night. She appreciated the effort at least. “No, thanks Jethann, help yourself to some brandy though. It should be here in a minute.”

He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. “Would you change your mind if I said I wouldn’t charge you?”

She chuckled, “Lusine would have your hide.”

He rolled his eyes, “That hag can suck an egg.”

“Thank you, darling, but the answer would still be no.” 

He sighed dramatically. “Prettiest woman in the place and you leave all of us wanting every night. It’s bad manners, lovey.”

She shrugged, “What can I say, I was raised by peasants.”

“Why are you spending your days in a whorehouse drinking but not partaking of our wares? Where are your friends? Surely, you have better things to be doing then spending your coin in a place like this.” He gestured around them.

“Let’s just say I’m sick of their pity.” She took the bottle of brandy from the serving girl’s hands and poured herself a drink as well as one for Jethann.

“Can’t imagine what could possibly make them pity you, sweet thing, but I promise I won’t.” He took a long slow draw on the brandy and sighed happily.

She sipped hers, it was better to pace herself. There were still a couple hours before the sun set. She didn’t want to be too drunk to fight. There were scum stalking the streets somewhere just calling out to her…somewhere.

********

It had been weeks since he‘d seen Hawke. Varric had told him she went to Darktown often to deal with various problems that arose, but Anders never saw her. She was never at the Hanged man and even when he went to do some purchasing she was nowhere to be found, even though he went on days he knew she usually shopped hoping to at least catch a glimpse of her.

He set his mug of ale down on the table staring into it morosely. Why hadn’t he apologized to her that night? Or at least explained himself better? And he should have known asking for time was a bad idea. At this rate he’d never see her again. The thought of not seeing her again for months on end was eating him alive. He missed her desperately already. “Maybe I should head up to her estate.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. I’ve been by a few times trying to find her with no luck. Leandra says she’s almost never there even at night. I only hear from her by messenger lately.” Varric sighed heavily. “I guess we’re both on her shit list.”

He looked up at Varric, “So where is she?”

Varric shook his head, “I’m not her Keeper Blondie, she’s a grown woman. I help her when she asks, I take care of the financials for her and that’s it.”

Anders raised an eyebrow, “She’s one of your closest friends. You really want me to believe you don’t know where she is?”

Isabela came waltzing through Varric’s door with a bottle of whiskey, the cork already pulled from the bottle. She held it between her teeth. Seeing Anders she mumbled “shit” around the cork and turned to leave.

“You too Isabela? I guess women stick together.” Andraste’s knickers he sounded pathetic even to himself.

She paused and turned back spitting out the cork. “It’s none of my business what’s going on between you and Hawke, Anders. I just didn’t want to sit and listen to you whine all night. You’ve become a lot worse lately and I just can’t take it. It ruins my good mood.”

Anders stood, “Stay, I should get back and start preparations for the clinic tomorrow.” He held the chair back waiting for Isabela to take a seat before he pushed it in for her. “Have a good night, guys.”

As he pulled on his coat he heard Varric and Isabela talking quietly but rushed. 

“I told you, you shouldn’t have interrupted them.” Izzy grumbled.

“This isn’t about the two of them getting laid, Isabela.” Varric shot back.

“So what is it Varric, love? I don’t think so, she’s too smart for that. Hawke has an obsession with him because he won’t give in to her. Her pride is hurt that’s all. What she needs is a diversion.” 

“Like what?” The tone of Varric’s voice made it clear that whatever she presented was going to be ridiculous.

“I’ve been trying to talk her into a night at the Blooming Rose on me, but she says she’s too busy.” She snorted, “Can you imagine? Who’s too busy for sex?”

“Or maybe she’s just not interested in whores.” Varric said flatly, his voice almost back to normal as if he had forgotten that Anders was still in the room.

Anders was done buckling his coat but was listening intently to the conversation.

“She just needs to get back up on the horse. One good ride and she’ll be done with her little crush on our healer and we can all get back to life more or less normal.” She poured herself a shot and tossed it back.

Varric snorted, “Do you ever stop and listen to yourself?”

Izzy ignored him. “Maybe you’re right, maybe she’s not into whores.” She waggled her eyebrows at Varric, “You two are close, why don’t you take care of her?”

Varric shook his head, “Trust me, I’m not on her menu either.”

Izzy pouted, “Fenris already shot me down, although he did look relieved when I told him that Hawke and Anders were on the outs. And his face lit up at first when I suggested he help her enjoy herself for an evening. But then he just shook his head no. I even offered, I bet she’s wild in bed.” She smiled at Varric, “Can you imagine if she fucks like she fights? Mmm, gives me shivers just thinking about it.”

“Stop it.” Anders’ voice cut through the air. He hadn’t meant to speak up; in fact he hadn’t even planned on staying once he had retrieved his coat. But listening to Izzy talk about how she was trying to talk people into laying with Hawke was making him angry.

Izzy turned and looked over her shoulder at him. “I didn’t realize you were still here.” She shrugged, “Might be those shots I did at the bar before I came back here. And you know what; you had your chance Anders, dozens of them in fact. You blew it.”

“So you’re going to just offer her up to everyone we know?” He snarled at her.

Izzy’s smile widened, “No, didn’t say a word to Merrill. Merril creeps Hawke out.”

Anders sighed; they were just talking, what was his problem? “Just don’t talk about her like that. It’s not right. She’s a decent person and she’s helped all of us out. The least we can do is not treat her like some brood mare.”

“Why because it’s more fun for you if you can keep her focus on you and humiliate her again?” Isabela’s voice was suddenly sharp. After she said it though she sighed and put her head down on the table. “Go home Anders, isn’t it past your bed time?”

He was going to leave when a thought struck him. “Besides, don’t you think Sebastian might object to you offering her up to half of Kirkwall?”

Izzy rolled her eyes, “Sebastian objects to everything fun. He’s as bad as you are.”

“Fine, I’m leaving, sorry to ruin your _fun_.” He grumbled.

“And don’t bother dropping by Hawke’s place. I stopped on my way here from some personal business and Leandra said she wasn’t home and she wasn’t expecting her tonight.” Isabela added.

“Did you ask where she went?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.  
“It’s none of my business.”

“Fine, right.” Anders walked briskly from the room. He thought briefly about going to the Chantry to ask Sebastian but he quickly dismissed the idea. The less the two of them saw each other the better. If Sebastian didn’t already have an inkling of Anders’ interest in Hawke, he soon would. And honestly, he wasn’t sure he could talk to the chantry brother without wanting to strangle him.

********

The first night on the coast turned out to be peaceful and calm. Even Fenris seemed to be on his best behavior as she made them all a quick dinner. At least he wasn’t complaining yet, and that was a definite plus. She was sure once they helped the mage woman escape her captors Fenris would have plenty to say.

“So, Broody, nice to see you travelling with us again. Is this going to be a permanent thing or are you just doing us a favor this one time?” Varric teased.

Fenris shrugged, “Well, I suppose that depends. Hawke does seem awfully fond of men who glow blue. So, I suppose as long as the abomination is out, I’ll be in. Right Hawke?”

She rolled her eyes, “Very clever you two.”

Izzy laughed, “Maybe she’s worried all that sexy man flesh, coupled with the blue glow will make her blind if you both tag along at the same time.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid of going blind, trust me. I’m more worried about killing one…or both of them. That has me switching back and forth.” She smiled.

Varric, chuckled, “So you like to keep one in reserve in case you kill one?”

Sekhmet giggled. “Not exactly. I mean, who wouldn’t want to take them both along on a trip. All that masculine beauty times two? Personally, if we could make them both temporarily mute I’d be all for it. Two glowing sexy men following me around, doing my bidding? What’s not to love? Oh, right, their pouting, brooding, bickering big mouths, that’s what. It’s hard to appreciate either of their looks when they’re having cat fights constantly.”

Fenris snorted, “And here I thought I was invited for my skills as a fighter.”

Sekhmet shrugged, “Well you were…all that fighting has given you a beautiful body.”

Varric had a huge smile on his face, “I see I needn’t have worried that you were turned off men altogether.”

Sekhmet smiled back at him, “Nope, as long as there’s a beardless dwarf with thick luxurious chest hair I’ll always have an appetite for at least one man.”

“Don’t let Bianca hear you say that.” Izzy teased.

“I can admire from afar, besides, Bianca was here first, it wouldn’t be right to intrude uninvited.” 

They all talked for a few more hours, Fenris even seemed to enjoy most of it. He did wonder aloud several times how he and Varric had gotten stuck with two such shameless women. He was still a bit shy and awkward but much more calm than she had remembered. She was thankful he seemed to be finding his feet at last.

They woke early the next day eager to save the mage from her abductors. Hawke wanted to get back to her night time hunting. Varric had several responsibilities on hold, though he wouldn’t elaborate further. Isabela had another rumor she wanted to chase down. Only Fenris seemed not to be in a hurry.

Saving the mage turned out to be a breeze, but on the way back they heard shouts from further down the coast. Sekhmet couldn’t resist, she had to see what all the commotion was about. After a surprise attack by several shades and abominations they made their way down to a small complement of the guard pinned down behind several large rocks.

Just as they reached the group an arrow came sailing over the rocks, slipping neatly into the eye slit of one of the guard’s helmets killing the man instantly. They all stopped short at the sight and Varric whistled low.

“That’s one tricky bitch of a shot, Hawke. Who do you figure’s firing away over there?” He hunched down close to the rocks.

She shook her head, “No idea.” She dropped down near a woman that looked to be in charge. “You look like you could use a hand.”

The guardswoman’s face fell a little, “You’re not the reinforcements?”

Sekhmet shook her head, “We were out here on another job. Finished a while ago, we were getting ready to head back to the city when we heard shouts and came to take a look.”

The Guardswoman glanced to Hawke’s back, taking in her daggers. “Can you and your friend’s handle those weapons?”

Sekhmet smiled at her, “Well enough that your Captain runs with me from time to time.”

She sighed in relief, “You’re Hawke? Maybe the Maker is finally smiling on us if half the rumors are true.”

“Why don’t you tell us what we’re up agai...” Sekhmet prompted.

She was cut off by a shout from the far side of the rocks, “No fair guard dog, you brought friends.”

The guard snarled back, “Shut your mouth.”

Isabela sudden moved forward, crowding in at Hawke’s side. “Shit, is that Fell Orden?”

The guardswoman nodded, “Yeah, and you already saw Viktor Longdeath’s handiwork.”

Izzy shook her head, “Hawke, these are Evet’s Marauders, they are seriously bad news.”

“How bad?” Sekhmet queried.

“They’ve been robbing and raping for Maker knows how long. Did a broad daylight assault on the Keep to rescue one of their number two years back. Fell Orden is a blood mage which is bad enough, but add Viktor and Sophie, and well…as you can see we’re pinned.” The guardswoman looked truly desperate.

Sekhmet didn’t really need to hear anymore. Robbing was one thing, but raping? Raping got you automatically bumped to the top of her ‘death and dismemberment’ list. “What’s your name guardswoman?”

“I’m Lieutenant Harley, and this disaster is my first ‘routine’ assignment.” She sighed.

“Lieutenant, I want you to stay here with your men. We’ll take care of the Marauders. Don’t move unless it looks like one of them is escaping, alright?” There were few enough guards in the city as it was, and she really didn’t want to explain to Aveline that the whole patrol had died out on the Coast.

“If you’re sure, and be careful, l the paths are trapped to oblivion.” She signaled her men to stay put.

Sekhmet waived her companions forward, it’s didn’t take long to disable the traps. The Marauders we’re a bit tougher to take down. They finally had them all wiped out except for the blood mage who kept a spell shield up preventing them from attacking him. 

Fenris strolled over and flashed a small smile at Hawke, “Shall I?”

Hawke nodded, eager to see the end of the little standoff. Fell Orden blanched as Fenris’ arm lit up and reached through his shield as if it weren’t even there. And then he screamed briefly before it was cut off when Fenris ripped his heart from his body, dropping it nonchalantly on the ground.

He grimaced and shook his arm. “Damn shields always make my arm ache afterwards.”

“Anything I can do to help?” The idea that using his little talent had hurt him bothered her a little.

“No, it’ll be fine in a few moments. It’s nothing to worry about.” He followed her as she headed back to where Lieutenant Harley and her patrol were still waiting.

Sekhmet smiled at them, “All clear. I don’t think you’ll be having any more problems with them. They’re all dead.”

Lieutenant Harley looked flabbergasted. “All dead? I don’t believe it. I’ll tell Lieutenant Jalen at the Keep what you’ve done and make sure he rewards you properly.” She turned on her heel, “Come on men, move out.”

Izzy and Sekhmet searched through the Marauder’s pockets and packs for any useful loot before heading back to the city themselves.

They set up camp still several hours from the city knowing they wouldn’t make it back before dark. Sekhmet took the first watch with Tyr at her side. And even though their watch was uneventful both were restless.

Even when Isabela relieved her she lingered pacing around the camp unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Isabela watched her silently for a long time before finally standing and drawing her blades. Sekhmet looked to her, but neither one of them seemed to see any real danger.

“I don’t know if something actually feels wrong or if your pacing has simply wound me up.” Izzy complained.

“Sorry, but something just doesn’t feel right. It’s like a prickling along the back of my neck, like someone is watching us.” Sekhmet talked in hushed tones hoping not to disturb the others. “Do you want to try to get back to sleep? I’m obviously not going to be able to sleep.”

Isabela shook her head, “No point, I won’t be able to sleep either.”

“At least we can keep each other company.” She looked around again, her vision unable to break through the utter darkness that surrounded them. Tyr snuffled at the ground a little and kept sniffing the air, but he never barked or went running after something in the dark. Maybe he was just reacting to Sekhmet’s tension as well.

Another few hours slipped by before Tyr suddenly jumped to his feet and ran off into the dark. Sekhmet started to follow him, thankful for something to finally happen before Isabela snarled at her to stay put until the men were both up. Sekhmet had practically dragged Varric from his tent she was so impatient to get moving.

The four of them, finally all awake, went running after her dog who was barking and snarling in the distance, clearly already engaged in combat with someone or something. Sekhmet slowed for a moment when she saw how many Tal-Vashoth were suddenly moving out of the foliage around where Tyr was currently engaged with two other of the giants.

There had to be at least twenty of them in all. And it seemed like even more were wading through the waist high green foliage to attack. Fenris snarled in anger, displaying a rare emotion where combat was concerned. The others followed suit and she had no more time to think. She needed to get her shit together and save her dog.

********

Hawke strode into the clinic bearing up Fenris’ weight. The elf was bleeding from a head wound; Anders hurried across the clinic and helped her bring Fenris to one of the cots. Varric was behind her holding his arm where it was obviously broken and leaning against him was Isabela whose shoulder was wrapped in bloody bandages. Even Hawke’s precious dog was limping.

At first he’d been glad to see her quickly followed by worry, “What happened?”

“Tal Vashoth.” Hawke spat the word as if it were a curse.

Fenris clearly seemed to be the worst off of the lot so, Anders went to work staunching the bleeding from his head wound; doing his best not to touch the elf, it had been a while but he hadn’t forgotten how much contact between them disconcerted them both. “Hawke, can you get me some clean water and cloth so I can clean this wound and take a better look at it?” A few moments later she was at his side holding a metal bowl of water and a clean cloth. 

He gratefully took them from her and worked on cleaning the wound. He ignored Fenris’ cursing in Arcanum and had the elf healed in a few minutes. He healed Isabela’s shoulder next while Hawke helped Fenris to his feet and walked with him around the clinic a few times to make sure he was feeling up to the walk back to Hightown. Isabela was easy to take care of; the wound was not nearly as bad as the bandages had led him to believe. 

When Anders moved to Varric the dwarf shook his head and pointed to Hawke. “Not all that blood is Fenris’, Blondie. She’s the one that went in and pulled Fenris out of harm’s way. Check her out first.”

Anders turned to Hawke who was near the door of the clinic with Fenris and Isabela. “Hawke.” He said sharply.

She turned to him and raised a brow in query. 

“Come here.” 

She gave a heavy sigh and waived Fenris and Isabela off. She turned back into the clinic and glared at Varric who chuckled at her before she looked back to Anders. “What?”

“From that death glare I’m guessing you know what. Where are you injured?” He kept his voice even, trying to keep as much emotion out of it as he could. He needed to be a healer right now, not anything else.

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I haven’t really had a chance to assess it yet, but it’s nothing serious.”

He sighed tiredly, she was still angry with him and was going to make this as difficult for him as possible. “Go behind the curtain and take a look while I heal Varric’s arm. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” He turned back to Varric, his sapphire healing energy cascading over Varric’s arm as the dwarf sighed in relief. 

“That feels great every time you do it.” Varric chuckled.

“You’re lucky you’re not very resistant to healing. How do you always manage to get hurt?”

Anders heard a chuckle from the back of the clinic, “Go ahead Varric, tell Anders how you got hurt.”

Varric scowled, “Why don’t you tell Anders how long it’s been since you slept?”

“You’re a jackass.”

“Right back at ya, Hawke.”

Anders shook his head, “You sound like an old married couple.”

Varric shook his head, “Oh no, I think that honor is all yours.”

He sighed again and stepped back, they all made him feel so tired and so terribly old sometimes. “Your arm is fine. Why don’t you wait for Hawke, shouldn’t be more than a few minutes?” That way he and Hawke wouldn’t need to be alone and couldn’t make each other’s lives more difficult than they needed to be.

Anders heard a dramatic sigh from the back of the clinic, “Only a few minutes? Hardly worth getting undressed for, I had higher hopes for you Anders after all of Isabela’s stories of your prowess.”

Varric grinned and Anders just walked slowly towards the curtain almost regretting having her head back there. “Are you decent?”

“No.”

Anders paused, “Hawke, enough.”

She was much quieter when she answered him again, “No really, Anders, I’m not decent, well not for polite company. But come in; just don’t go throwing the curtain back.”

Anders paused for a moment his hand on the curtain debating whether she was teasing him again or not. He gritted his teeth, it didn’t matter, he was a healer it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a naked woman before. Moving the curtain aside a little he stepped behind it and froze. “Hawke,” he gasped.

She was sitting on the edge of the cot in her smalls and breast band, her clothes folded neatly on the table beside her and her armor laid over the back of a chair. Her boots were neatly placed on the floor beside her, but that wasn’t what had caused his surprise.

She was covered in bruises and cuts, not all of them fresh. There was a large bruise across her chest right under her breast band which had already started to yellow. From the look of the bruise she had several broken ribs and had been fighting that way for roughly a week. 

Hawke gave a small laugh followed quickly with a wince and a groan, “You certainly know how to humble a girl Anders. I have to admit I’m not used to men gasping in horror when I undress.”

He recovered quickly. “I’m guessing when you normally undress for a man you’re not covered in bruises and cuts like this. What in the world have you been doing?”

She became a bit subdued. “It doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure none of this is life threatening. I just need you to look at my back for me.”

He curbed his anger at her stubbornness and took a deep breath, “Turn around, let me see.”

She stood up and turned around. Honestly, looking the way she did all marked up and injured it didn’t even register that she was standing in front of him mostly naked. He tried not to cringe at what he saw. A long ugly cut carved down most of her back and down over her hip, it looked partially healed, probably from poultices but was clearly infected. “I’ll be back.” He said quietly before turning around and heading back to Varric.

“This is going to take longer than I thought. What the Void have you guys been doing that she’s covered in injuries like that even with poultices?” His voice was tinged with anger.

“Settle down. We haven’t been doing much of anything, just little things, running errands mostly. We’ve come across a few bandits but that’s it other than the Tal Vashoth today. There’s been nothing where she should have been severely injured.” Varric looked thoroughly confused. 

“How do you explain her back then? You should have brought her here immediately.” He snapped at the dwarf.

Varric stood up and scowled at Anders, “I don’t completely understand all the rubbish going on between the two of you Blondie, but don’t blame this on me. You know I would have brought her here if she had been seriously injured. If she was hurt it wasn’t when she was with me.”

“Fine,” Anders’ words were clipped. “You might as well get comfortable.”

Varric sat back down on the cot he had been sitting on previously before settling Bianca gently down beside him. “Take your time. I’ve got nothing planned.”

Anders went to his potion making counter and poured some clean water into a bowl, grabbed a few cloths and a few surgical tools before he headed back to where Hawke was waiting. “I need you to take off the breast band and lay down so I can try to clean your back a bit. This is probably going to hurt.”

She turned away from him and untied the breast band, holding it in place as she lay down on the cot and settled herself comfortably. “You shouldn’t get angry with him Anders. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He should have looked after you better. He fights from behind you like I do, he should have protected you better than this, and then not to bring you here. It’s irresponsible. And you’re even worse, why didn’t you come see me?” He moved aside her clothes as he set the bowl down and heated the water with a touch to the bowl. He used magic to boil the tools in another bowl before using magic to cool them down so he could handle them easily.

“He wasn’t with me, Anders.”

“Fine, why didn’t you come?” He settled his hand carefully over a portion of the laceration on her shoulder and gently cooled it trying to numb the area as best he could. Desperately, he wished he had more components in the clinic, he would have liked to have numbed her more thoroughly before doing this, but he didn’t have what he needed and she would never agree to him putting her to sleep. There were red lines snaking from the wound indicating that the infection was already in her blood so he didn’t have the luxury of time.

“You said you needed a break.”

“Not from healing.” He growled.

Her voice was suddenly very quiet. “No, from me, and I was following your wishes.”

“An infection like this can kill someone, Hawke.”

“Stop calling me that.” She snapped.

He fell silent as he started debridement of the wound. Hawke hissed as he cut some of the infected tissue away carefully. They were both quiet as he worked methodically on the wound, trying to excise as much of the damaged and infected tissue as possible. She never made another sound after the first cut and he kept stopping to see if she might have passed out, he wasn’t used to his patients being so quiet.

Eventually, he had needed her to untie one side of her smalls and hold them out of the way so he could get to the laceration that fell under that fabric. They were both silent as she held the fabric stiffly and he worked as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he finished but he was covered in sweat and his hands ached. He set his instruments down carefully and wiped his hands off on one of the few remaining clean cloths. “I’m going to heal this now.”

She didn’t respond or move. He stepped back and looked at her, she was still staring at the curtain as she had been the entire time he had been working on her back. He inhaled deeply through his nose trying to keep himself calm, she could be so frustrating sometimes.

He held his hands a few centimeters over her laceration and began pouring healing energy into it. The sapphire blue glow of his magic working first to try to draw more of the infection from her before starting to knit her flesh back together seamlessly. When the wound was completely healed he gently touched her flesh where it had been, “Is it sensitive?”

“A little,” she started to sit up, holding the breast band across her chest.

“Stop.”

“What?” There was annoyance in her voice now.

“I’m not done.” He said gently.

“It’s not healed yet?”

“That one is, but you have other injuries that need to be healed, just stay still for a few minutes.” He tried coaxing her.

She sat up anyways. “I’m fine, thank you.” She quickly retied the breast band and reached for the side of her smalls that was still untied. 

She started to stand up and Anders gripped her shoulder gently. “You’re staying.”

She glared at him, “You can’t make me stay.”

He glared right back at her, “Try me.” There was absolutely no way he was letting a patient out of his clinic with as many injuries as she had.

Hawke shoved him roughly backwards as she stood up, smalls completely tied now. She grabbed her tunic and started to pull it on. Anders pushed her back down onto the cot gently but insistently, “Just let me take care of these, what if one of your ribs punctures a lung?”

“Let me go.” She seethed through gritted teeth.

“Why are you so angry? Just calm down.” He was more than a little surprised at the ferocity of her anger. Was she still that mad at him about what had happened outside of the estate?

She shoved him again, harder this time. “Let go of me.” Her voice was bordering on hysterical.

He stumbled backwards and fell when he got caught in the curtain. And Justice thought he was graceful? He stood up quickly, his temper flaring. Being angry at him was one thing, but shoving him was quite another. “This is ridiculous, Hawke.”

She spun on him, her face scarlet now. “I said to quit calling me that.” 

She took a threatening step towards him and Anders sighed, “Enough.” His hand cut through the air smoothly and Hawke crumpled. Anders caught her easily and laid her back on the cot. She could hate him later, after she was healed. There was no way he was letting her leave his clinic with injuries that severe.

“Blondie?” Varric’s voice was hesitant.

“She’s fine Varric; I just put her to sleep. She’ll be staying here with me for a while.” He knew he’d be paying for it, but just at this moment all he wanted was her healthy and whole. “You can get going.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? She was pretty angry.” He was standing right outside of the curtain now.

Anders pulled back the curtain and let Varric see just a bit of her exposed legs. “She’s staying here.”

Varric blanched seeing her numerous injuries “Andraste’s tits, what happened to her?”

“I don’t know but she’s not leaving here looking like this.” He gave Varric a tentative smile, “Besides, wasn’t it you who said she needed sleep?”

Varric chuckled, “Good luck, I’ll check on you tomorrow, make sure she hasn’t killed you in your sleep.”

“I appreciate it.”

“And Blondie, figure out how to fix this mess between the two of you, will ya?”

“I’m not sure I can, Varric.”

“Try harder.” Varric turned and left.

Anders turned back to look at Hawke. He wasn’t sure what had made her react so violently against him, but he hoped she would be feeling a bit more receptive when she was awake again. Carefully, he pulled her tunic back off and started healing her numerous wounds. As he worked he decided he was glad he had kept her, he wasn’t sure that her infection was completely gone yet and it would be good to monitor her for a while.

Once he had finished healing her he covered her with one of his threadbare blankets and moved to the clinic door dousing the lantern and locking the door. His clinic had been empty most of the day and he had no desire to deal with anyone else right now. Although, spying Tyr curled up on the floor under one of his cots he coaxed the hound out. 

The dog was limping badly and panting heavily. He wasn’t exactly trained to heal dogs, but how hard could it be? Thankfully, the dog didn’t have very serious injuries, a few bruised ribs and a gash across his hind quarters. Anders healed him up and smiled when the dog nuzzled his hand and barked softly in gratitude. Well at least someone appreciated Anders’ efforts.

Finished with the dog, he looked in on Hawke and grabbed her clothes. He had been planning on washing his clothing and figured he might as well take care of hers as well. It would give him something to do and would be a small deterrent to her leaving if she woke. Not that he thought for one moment she would stay just on account of her clothes, she still had her armor afterall.

The washing took him almost an hour and the wet clothes were hanging up on lines he had stretched across the clinic for the purpose. He used up the few remaining components he had left to make a few more potions and poultices. Stretching, he looked around the clinic; he was running out of things to do to keep him occupied and away from Hawke.

He took off his boots and slid on a pair of worn slippers. He cleaned and oiled the leather of his boots, then ducked behind the curtain to check on her again before grabbing her armor. He cleaned and oiled it trying not to imagine each little dip and curve of her body that the leather molded to. He had to stop a couple times and take a few long breaths to force his mind away from the fact that the body that this leather so gorgeously clung to was nearly naked, less than ten feet away from him.

Tucked into another cot, near where Hawke was sleeping so he could keep ear out for her, Anders attempted to get some rest himself. She was still sleeping, although fitfully and he was having trouble falling asleep with her so close. He listened to her breathing feeling a hollow ache in his chest and eventually dozed.

He was awoken later by quiet weeping. Climbing quickly from the cot he was in he crossed to Hawke’s side, she seemed to still be sleeping and he briefly wondered if he should wake her or not. After several moments of deliberation he shook her gently.

“Hawke, wake up.” Anders had a flashback to the night in her estate when he had awoken half naked astride her waist. Almost unconsciously his finger trailed across her collarbone. The quiet weeping had stopped and he should have left her alone, but he just wanted to touch her for a moment, an uncomplicated touch with no agenda.

Hawke bolted on the cot grabbing his hand roughly. He made a little noise of surprise as she squeezed his hand then as her eyes flew open held it tight to her chest. “Anders?” She blinked and then suddenly giggled. 

“Are you alright?”

“You’re really here.” She looked around, “Or I guess, _I’m_ really here.”

“Yes,” Anders ventured cautiously.

She gave him a small little smile, “You were hovering over me, yet you seem reluctant to climb into the cot with me.”

“Hawke…”

“Sekhmet,” she cut him off, “My name is Sekhmet, use my name.”

He hesitated, “Alright, Sekhmet.”

Her smile returned, “Can you feel my heart beating?” She sat up and the blanket slipped down to her waist.

He looked down then quickly looked back up. “I can.”

Her smile changed, more shy than brazen, “This is what it’s like, every time I’m near you. My heart races,” She shifted her legs over the side of the cot, he backed up a little but she held fast to his hand. “I feel flushed,” She started standing up, still clutching his hand to herself.

“Haw…Sekhmet,” he swallowed as his eyes slid down again taking in her cleavage that was indeed flushed. “You had an infection.” He said quietly.

She looked at him, need in her eyes, “You fill all of my senses, Anders. Every time I’m near you I just want to drown in you.”

Anders’ body was reacting to her, to what she was saying, to the sight of her. His eyes raked over her face and down her body, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest and knew his pupils were dilated wide at her proximity. A piece of him that had been sleeping for years was clawing its way upward towards the surface. 

His eyes moved back to where she clutched his hand to her chest. He closed his eyes briefly trying to shut out the image of her body, barely clad, before him. Trying desperately to ignore his stiffening cock and the urge to spread his fingers wide and fondle her breasts. 

Was he really entertaining this idea again? Was he really thinking about getting involved with her? Surely not. “Tell me you just want sex.”

Her eyes widened in surprise then skipped a way for a second before returning, her cheeks flushing a deep red. He could see her hesitate and knew he needed to shut his mouth before he made things worse, but ‘Anders the Circle mage’, ‘Anders the Warden’ had a hold of him now. The man used to burying himself inside a warm body every night, used to spilling inside a moaning lover at least once a day was calling the shots and his mouth opened without the thoughts fully forming in his head first.

His voice came out low and husky when he spoke, a voice that had seduced more people than he cared to think about right now. “Tell me what you really want is me to spread you open, licking and tasting you until you shatter into a million pieces. Tell me you just want to feel me inside of you, making you climb the walls screaming my name in ecstasy.” Long fingers reached out and caressed her face. “Tell me you want me and I’ll take you now, here, anyway you want me to. I promise, I’ll make your body sing.” He felt her shudder under his fingers. 

Her voice was quiet and a little strained when she spoke. “Is that what you want Anders?”

Yes…no…yes. He wanted so much more from her, wanted to make love to her, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, wanted to see her looking at him with love in her eyes and hear her say the words. But those were things he could never have, but this…a night of passion, surely it was safe enough. Surely, Justice understood how much he needed something and would let him have this one night with her.

Her skin was warm and smooth when he slid his hand to cup the back of her neck. His other hand moved to cup her breast through her breast band. His thumb easily found her nipple and he drew slow circles around it causing it to pebble. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart as it sunk in that this was Hawke’s body responding to his touch. 

Did he want this? No, he needed it, needed at least a little something, and even if there could never be any more between them than tonight, at least he would always have the memory of blissful night of passion to hold onto. He leaned down, the need to taste her overwhelming him. “Yes, this is what I want,” he whispered hoarsely, “Sweet Andraste yes.”

Her hand moved to his chest and pushed at him slightly. He barely registered it. So close, he could feel her breath on his face as he tipped her face up. Needed this for so long, needed her. She pushed again harder this time followed by a strangled whisper, “Stop,” a shuddered breath, her voice a little louder, “Please Anders, stop.”

They stood there, still a moment, almost frozen in time watching each other. He ached for her, not just with his body, but heart and soul. Her eyes glittered and he realized he had made a mistake, again. Andraste’s blood would he ever stop hurting her?

For a moment he hated the man he had been, but he could do something different this time. He could walk away instead of talking her into his bed anyway, knowing she would likely regret it the next day even if she eventually agreed. He shook his head a little and sighed, “It’s not enough is it?”

She gave him a sad smile, “No, not anymore. Not as long as there is still a chance you could care for me one day.”

He nodded and stepped away from her, pulling his hands back to himself a sharp pain lanced to his heart. He wanted to tell her he already did, wanted to scream it until everyone in Kirkwall knew that he loved this amazing woman. But his love, his need to be near her had only brought her pain so far. And who knew what would happen if Justice were to get his hands on her while she was vulnerable. Just as he hated the man he had been, now he hated the man that he had become. “You should go.”

Her lower lip trembled minutely and her eyes glazed with unshed tears before she turned away from him and grabbed her tunic sliding it quickly over her head. 

“Sekhmet,” he paused not sure what to say, wasn’t sure there was anything he could say without making it worse. He had never seen her slip like that, brief moments of pain here and there, but nothing like the naked ache he had just seen. Her whole body stiffened and she froze but did not speak. He took a half step towards her and stopped when he heard her voice.

Soft and wavering, a voice he never would have associated with her. “Please, let me leave with what little dignity I still have, Anders.” She bent and grabbed her trousers from the table, where he had set them once they dried, tugging them on impatiently.

Anders couldn’t keep watching her, he couldn’t have felt any more hollow or raw pain if Fenris had actually ripped the heart from his chest. Watching her, knowing what he had done, treating her like just another conquest, was killing him. 

He could nearly feel Justice stroking his head, watching him suffer. And he found he even had enough resentment left for Justice. The spirit who had banished him to Kirkwall, who had put him on the path to meet her, who denied him what he so desperately needed. The twisted thing inside him that thought his pain was beautiful.

It was too much; he turned, headed for his room. His legs couldn’t get him there fast enough; his throat was so tight it hurt. As soon as he crossed the threshold he slammed the door quickly closed, sending up clouds of dust, and collapsed back against it. Slowly, he slid down the rough wood barely feeling the splinters catch at the delicate skin of his hands. The ache in his chest taking his breath away, he hit the floor and buried his head in his arms, sobbing for the first time in years.

Fate was a cruel mistress and he could bear up under her weight no longer.


	34. Seeking Succor

Sekhmet pushed into the bar, thankful it never really seemed to close. She didn’t recognize the bartender. Corff must have been off for the night. She walked to the bar and calmly asked for a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass. Setting a few coins on the bar she grabbed the bottle and the shot glass and settled down at a table near the back of the bar, hidden mostly in shadows.

Time passed slowly and no matter how many times she emptied the shot glass the hollow ache in her chest did not abate; neither did the agony in her mind. She poured herself another shot and closed her eyes tossing it back. When she opened them Isabela was standing beside her looking down at her with concern in her eyes.

“Hawke, are you alright?”

Sekhmet chuckled a little then closed her eyes and suppressed the urge to cry. “No, I haven’t been alright in years.”

Isabela nodded sagely and settled down at the table. “Mage troubles, love?”

Sekhmet nodded briefly and poured herself another shot, throwing it back quickly. “I’m an idiot Izzy. I was there, half naked and offered him all of me, bared my heart to him and he threw it back at me.” She gave a small shake of her head, “Right there, between us, my heart shattered into a million pieces at his feet.” She sighed, “I am an idiot.”

Isabela stroked her hair almost maternally. “He does care for you.”

“No, he doesn’t Isabela and it’s time I left him alone. All I’m doing is making an ass of myself.”

“Sweetheart, the man positively smolders when he watches you. He can’t keep his eyes off you when you’re in the room. And believe me I’m not the only one who’s noticed that he is more than a little protective of you.”

“Yes, well he did offer to fuck me, as long as it didn’t mean anything. So I suppose he finds me attractive enough.” She scoffed, “Then again, from what I’ve heard he wasn’t exactly discerning when it came to crawling into bed with someone.” Sekhmet poured herself another shot but before she could drink it Isabela pulled it from her fingers.

“Maybe he’s right, Hawke. Maybe it’s too dangerous for you two to be together. As nice as Anders is his passenger is not.” She drank Sekhmet’s shot and set the shot glass upside down on the table.

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Did you ever stop to think you should be?”

Sekhmet closed her eyes and sat back in her chair. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Ah, and here we are, back to self pity. This is exactly why love is such a bad idea. Love isn’t for people like you and I.”

Sekhmet snorted, she was in pain, and pain always made her mean. “What was it that you feared more than love, Izzy?”

Isabela sighed heavily, “You see too much little lion. You’re right there was something I feared more than love, captivity. Don’t tell me you don’t fear the loss of your freedom just as much.”

And what should she say to that? She’d been itching for a fight, an argument and Isabela had just…said probably the first true and real thing Sekhmet had ever heard from her. Defeated, a bit drunk and not quite equipped to deal with this new Isabela revelation she stood up and pushed in the chair. “Keep the bottle, I’m heading home.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, I can make it on my own.” With that she crossed the tavern and left quickly. The cool night air felt good on her skin as she walked swiftly back to Hightown. 

She was surprised to find her mother awake when she arrived home. “Your mage friend came by.”

Sekhmet froze, “Why?”

Her mother cocked her head looking at Sekhmet inquisitively, “He returned your armor. Said you had forgotten it after he healed you. It looks like he cleaned and oiled it before he brought it back.” She cocked her head and inspected Sekhmet. “Are you alright? Were you seriously injured? Varric came by hours ago to tell me you were staying with Anders for a while.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Yes, I’m fine. I was just exhausted and dozed off there. Sorry to worry you.”

Leandra came a bit closer, and recoiled. “You smell like whiskey.”

Sekhmet nodded but didn’t respond.

“Did you two have a fight?” It was an innocent enough question.

Sekhmet closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to stay calm but her breath hitched. Leandra was there circling her arms around Sekhmet in a flash. She buried her head on her mother’s shoulder and wept openly. 

Her mother stroked her back soothingly. “I never would have thought it would be you.”

Sekhmet lifted her head and wiped her eyes, “What?” 

Leandra gave her a small smile, “I always thought it would be Bethany running to me with a broken heart. You never let anyone get close enough to hurt you.”

Sekhmet gave a little chuckle through her tears. “And now I remember why.” She took a deep breath and let Leandra lead her to the library where they sat on a couch together. “There’s such passion in him, I can feel it. And he’s so dedicated.” She let her head fall back and looked up at the ceiling.

“So it’s been him all this time?”

Sekhmet lifted her head and looked at her mother, “You mean, you knew?”

Leandra smiled serenely, “I suspected for a long time. But you’ve been so opposed to the notion of marriage I knew there was someone, I just wasn’t sure who. You kept both your handsome mage and the white haired elven man away from me.” 

Sekhmet nodded, “I worry, they are both a bit…much at times.”

Leandra quirked a brow, “Compared to that pirate girl?”

Sekhmet laughed, “A different kind perhaps.” 

Leandra chuckled, “I should have known, the night he stayed here, the way he was looking at you. It was easy to see how in love with you he was. Funny, I would have a harder time reading my own daughter’s affections that a perfect stranger’s.”

“I wish he did love me, mother. He doesn’t, hence the problem.” Sekhmet looked into the fire, fighting back the tears again.

Her mother’s gaze narrowed. “Then something has changed, because I know that look. It’s the way your father used to look at me.”

Could that be true? Had Anders cared for her but no longer did? Did those two years apart destroy anything he might have felt for her? The thought made her nauseous. 

Maybe he’d been scared? “You know I never thought about meeting someone and falling in love when I was growing up. I didn’t fantasize about getting married or having children. I don’t even remember having a crush on anyone. But it never even fazed me when I realized I was falling in love with him. I just accepted it.”

Her mother nodded, “You’re your father’s daughter. He just accepted it too when it happened. I was nervous at first, but he never was. When I asked him Malcolm just smiled at me and said ‘I just knew it was you. No sense in denying it’.”

“How do you do it mother? How do you keep going without him?”

Leandra blinked a few times as pain flashed across her face. “I keep myself busy. I alternate between purposely not thinking about him to reminiscing about our life.” She inhaled slowly, her gaze unfocused. “I’ve thought about finding someone else, I think your father wouldn’t want me to live my life alone. But honestly, there will never be anyone that could hold my heart like he did.”

She looked to Sekhmet, “When your father died I felt like my heart had been ripped from me. I thought for sure there was no way I could go on living.” She took a breath, “But you children needed me, so in time I found enough strength to be your mother again.” Leandra brushed a few strands of hair from Sekhmet’s face. “You’re so like him; it made life easier sometimes to know I still had a piece of him with me.”

“I guess I just assumed things would work out for Anders and I, that it would be easy like things were for you and papa.”

Leandra smiled broadly, “Oh, things weren’t that easy for us, don’t think that.”

Sekhmet smiled at her mother and stood up suddenly exhausted. She kissed Leandra on the cheek. “Thank you. I’m going to turn in to lick my wounds.”

“I’ll make sure no one disturbs you tomorrow, stay in bed as long as you like.”

“Good night.”

Leandra just smiled and looked to the fireplace. Sekhmet made her way up the stairs to her room. Once there she quickly disrobed and pulled on an old tunic slipping it over her head before she climbed into bed. Too many sleepless nights, whiskey and the late hour worked to send her to sleep quickly.

When she woke the next day it was rather late but she lingered in bed anyways. She just wanted to relax and recharge. She didn’t want to think about mages, any of them, or about the countless requests for help she had downstairs on the desk. She didn’t want to think about love or anything resembling it.

She got up briefly and went to her desk grabbing several scrolls and several stacks of parchment. Now was as good a time as any to catch up on some research she had been wanting to work on. Her mind settled as she began reading over the scrolls. 

Kirkwall was a fascinating city; if one knew where to look you could find all sorts of storied items. It was also a great place to learn many stories from the surrounding countries. Being a port city brought a large collection of people through its gates.

Recently she had become entranced with the story surrounding a pair of gloves she had acquired. Through research, and Varric’s help she learned of their previous owner, one Lady Rosamund. Now maybe it was just because she had been at Ostagar, but the story of a woman who eluded Teryn Loghain for years made her giddy. Add to that the fact that even once she was caught bound, chained and gagged she still managed to escape the first night, and Sekhmet had more than a passing respect for the woman.

A bounty of one thousand sovereigns for a single woman was unheard of in Ferelden, or anywhere really, but it seemed Loghain had taken Lady Rosamund’s escapades as a personal affront. Sekhmet smiled as she read through another parchment where there were scattered notes. The Fereldens she had spoken with in Darktown had more information about sightings than actual acts she committed, but Sekhmet was determined to find something. 

She settled down comfortably in the bed ready to comb through her notes for any clues as to where to look next. It was a good distraction; Sekhmet was always able to lose herself in her research. A piece of parchment rested on the table next to her bed, ready for her to scribble notes on it. Someday she really would find a better system, but for now her scattered researcher system suited her.

******** 

It was dark before Sekhmet left the room, hunger finally getting the best of her. Quickly wrapping a short dressing gown around her she strode out of the room leaving her slippers at the end of the bed. She jogged down the stairs as the stone steps were cold beneath her bare feet. 

As she reached the bottom a soft voice spoke. “Sekhmet?”

Sekhmet reached for a dagger that wasn’t there before she realized she knew the voice. She scanned the room and found him sitting in a chair in the furthest corner. “Anders, what are you doing here?” She tried not to sound too testy, but it was difficult after he had just startled her.

“I…Can we talk?”

Sekhmet sighed, “There’s nothing to talk about.” She looked around and saw the room was empty and the rest of the house seemed dark. “How did you get in here?”

“Your mother let me in this afternoon. She said it was alright to wait for you to come down. Though I doubt she knew you would hide up there all day.”

“I wasn’t hiding. Where is she?” her voice sounded peevish even to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He stood and started crossing the room. “She said something about going to see Gamlen a few hours ago.”

“And you just let her walk to Lowtown by herself?” She turned and started back up the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“To get dressed.” She snapped, “I have to go check on my mother.”

He followed her up a few steps, “Bodahn and Sandal were with her, I’m sure she’s fine. Can we please talk?”

Sekhmet stopped at the top of the stairs and spun around to look down at him. “Don’t worry; I’m not as stupid as I look. I got the message loud and clear. I’ll leave you alone.”

“You’re still angry with me.” She was surprised by how upset he looked when he spoke.

Sekhmet sighed and sat down on the step, she covered her face with her hands. “Just, let me be angry, please.”

She heard him walk up a few steps. “How long are you going to need to be angry for?”

She snorted, “The rest of my life if I can manage it.”

“I see.” His footsteps started retreating down the stairs.

Sekhmet told herself to stay still, to let him leave. There was no reason to make more of an ass of herself than she already had. She had offered him all of her and he had made it quite clear there was only one thing that he wanted from her. But as she heard his steps heading for the door her chest squeezed tight again.

She uncovered her face and stood up, “Wait.”

His footsteps paused and she tried her best to walk casually down the stairs. She crossed the room to where he stood just inside the foyer. Leaning against the wall, she made sure to give him plenty of space. “What did you want Anders?”

His mouth curved up on the right side just the slightest. “I’m not completely sure, damage control maybe? I shouldn’t have said that to you, it was…stupid and crass. Something I had thought myself above. And I don’t want you to think that it’s how I think of you.”

“Isn’t it?”

He watched her closely for a few moments and Sekhmet felt herself squirm under his gaze. Finally, he spoke, “No, it’s not.”

Sekhmet chuckled quietly, derisively, but didn’t speak.

Anders crossed the room to her and stopped less than a foot from her; she could see the sky blue light of Justice flickering under his skin, barely contained. “You’ve made no secret of your attraction to me since the day you met me. If I didn’t think of you as a friend, if all I wanted from you was your body then why haven’t I taken it? You’ve offered it to me plenty.” His words were almost cruel and then he cut her to the quick. “You even begged me once.”

Sekhmet shoved him suddenly, “You insufferable bastard,” she seethed.

Anders was quiet, the blue flickering having faded away, “I told you I would hurt you.”

“I’m not going to cry for you, you’ve already seen all the tears you’ll get.” She growled.

“I’m not trying to make you cry, Sekhmet.”

“Could have fooled me, but don’t worry I understand. Justice hates me and you want me to leave you alone. Message received. Now leave.” She turned to leave and he caught her shoulder. She stopped but didn’t turn to face him.

“I want us to be friends.” He was too close, his words right in her ear, she could feel the heat of his body behind her, so close, but only his hand actually touching her. She had to try hard not to shudder, not to lean back against him, or worse, to turn around and kiss him. “Is there no way for us to be friends? We were friends before, weren’t we?”

Sekhmet breathed deeply and slowly for several seconds trying to fight past her wounded pride. “I suppose we could try.” She said at last.

“Good.” He paused there, breath stirring a few stray strands of hair and hand still on her shoulder. She couldn’t bring herself to turn and look at him, the ache in her was too great, it ran too deep. If she looked at him now she would be lost, and there would be no chance of friendship. At length he released her shoulder and moved away. “Then, hopefully I’ll see you soon…Hawke.” She cringed hearing him call her that with such deliberation but said nothing. If that was what he needed she would try.

********

Anders strode from the estate quickly. Once he was outside and the door closed firmly behind him he leaned against the stone wall, his heart pounding. He had almost lost it, would have if she had turned to look at him. It had been all he could do not to turn her around himself and kiss her, to wind his arms around her body and embrace her and whisper how much he loved her into her ear. Feeling the heat of her body through the thin cloth wrapped around her…it had almost been too much.

He had been caught off guard, the bare feet and naked legs, her loose hair. It wasn’t what he was expecting. That damned dressing gown she was wearing was practically indecent, falling only a few scant inches below her ass. As soon as he had seen her, his breath had caught, he had barely been able to get out her name when she reached the landing. 

Seeing the softer side of her, not the fighter, not the tease, but just her as she was at home affected him more than he could have imagined. She hadn’t even been that informal the night he had sheltered there from the rain. Except for the incident in the room he had slept in, and that brought up terrible memories both for what he had done to her and what he had wanted to do.

He really had gone only to apologize for his stupid mouth. He had tried it the night before but she had been out. Once she had left the night before, what he had done, what he had said to her ate at him. He had told her time and again he would hurt her, but he hadn’t meant like that. He hadn’t meant to demean her, to treat her as though she was a common whore just looking for a good time.

But he had nearly made an even bigger mess when he had finally seen her. Her anger had burned him, had made him ache painfully, and when she had thrown his apology back in his face he had become angry himself. He’d been cruel to her, causing her more pain instead of apologizing as he had meant to. 

He was beginning to think that no matter their relationship, he was destined to always hurt her as long as he was in her life, so why couldn’t he just give her up and move on. When she had said she was going to leave him alone he had been afraid that she really would, that she would no longer share her smiles and laughter with him, would no longer share her triumphs or her time with him. As much as he didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t want to lose her completely either.

He had used the word ‘friend’, a plea, a supplication trying to keep her in his life when he should have let her go. He should have let her use her anger to build a wall between them, to keep them at a safe distance from each other. 

********

Sekhmet was sitting up in her bed staring into the fire. Each week she had felt her loneliness more acutely. The nights were the worst. She would lie in her too big bed, and feel how empty it was, she fell asleep many nights curled around herself trying to not feel so alone. Why couldn’t she stop fixating on Anders? He pulled at her heart like no one she had known before, and she couldn’t figure out why. 

There were moments when she saw glimpses of the man he must have been…before. Sometimes he couldn’t quite hold his tongue, his snarky comments always made her smile. On the few occasions that he smiled she could see laugh lines around his eyes, proof that at one time he had been a much happier man. 

And it had only taken a few weeks for her to fall back into her old pattern with him, flirting constantly though she pretty much dropped the sexual innuendo; it brought unpleasant things to mind. Her flirting, however, was his own fault, she had tried to behave herself; it was him that had flirted first. Sekhmet had ignored it the first time when he had told her how beautiful she looked, his eyes riveted to hers and his lips graced with that little right sided smirk of his, the one that promised mischief, but had sadly not delivered to date. 

She even ignored it the second time when he walked her back to the estate and then lingered, his hand resting on the wall above her shoulder while he leaned in and talked with her. His gaze intense as it shifted from her face downwards and then back again, his body just a hair too close. The whole time she kept thinking to herself that she was imagining it; he wasn’t really flirting with her, until he had brushed a strand of her hair off her cheek and tucked it back behind her ear. 

Her mouth had gone dry then and she felt herself flush, hoping he couldn’t see it in the dark. Here was the big bad wolf, the dangerous mage, the bad boy, the predator stalking her. And she liked it, liked that he acted as if he had no idea what he was doing to her, but every once in a while she had seen it in his eyes. He had known, and had liked it too. And still she tried to keep things to this friendship he claimed he wanted from her.

But when he had pressed up against her a few too many times as she helped him in the clinic, it was all she could take. The man wasn’t playing fair, he said he only wanted to be friends but his body was talking a whole other language. After that she was lost and couldn’t help flirting with him again, even though she knew Anders only wanted one thing from her, something she could no longer give him if she didn’t have his heart as well. Flirting was her nature though, and since he clearly didn’t mind she let herself indulge.

Sighing, she slid out of her bed and pulled on some clothes. She walked quietly down the stairs and slipped out the front door. A walk in the cool night air would do her some good. Maybe she would go to the Hanged Man, Isabela was sure to still be up and drinking.

********

She had holed up in a back corner table with Isabela, doing shots. They talked about inconsequential things, the sea, old drinking games, best drunk memories, memories they lacked from drink… anything so long as it wasn’t about men or mages or Templars.

There was a lull in the conversation as Sekhmet realized there were no more shots on the table. Lifting her head to order more Isabela grabbed her and kissed her. It was hard and hot and sloppy. Regardless, Sekhmet responded, she kissed Isabela back, moving closer to the pirate and pressing her body against Isabela’s ample curves.

The pirate woman’s skin was so warm and soft. She was surprised to feel the first stirrings of arousal. How drunk was she? Who gave a shit, at this moment she was just enjoying Isabela’s drunken kiss.

She held either side of Isabela’s face and took over the kiss. The Pirate Queen tasted of the strong spirits they had been drinking and not much else. Sekhmet thought briefly about how that suited her just fine, she was looking for something shallow and quick, something to dull the hollow ache in her heart. Something to distract her without breaking her already damaged heart.

She rose up on her knees on the bench, easing the angle between the two of them. She let her hand wander down to caress Isabela’s breast. Once upon a time, Sekhmet herself had wished for breasts like these. But she’d grown to appreciate her own smaller breasts over time, as well as learning a whole new appreciation for fuller breast’s like Izzy’s.

She broke the kiss long enough to pant, “I’ve always wondered if you were that gorgeous cocoa color all over.” 

Izzy nipped at her lower lip, “I’ll be happy to show you.”

Sekhmet smiled before kissing Isabela again, licking her upper lip, biting her lower lip before sweeping her tongue inside. A giggle nearly escaped her when she thought that Isabela tasted like rum and freedom, because was there any more perfect thing for a pirate queen to taste of? Isabela’s hands snaked around her waist, one moving up into her hair and the other moving down towards her ass. She fisted a handful of Isabela’s hair and pulled it hard, thrilled when Isabela moaned into their kiss. 

“Ladies, what a surprise to see you two here.”

Sekhmet pulled back slightly, just breaking contact but still staring into Isabela’s eyes, telling her without words not to move. “Varric, little busy right now.”

“I can see that, most of the bar can in fact.” Varric slid onto the bench next to Sekhmet, “Isabela, get us a few more drinks why don’t you?”

Sekhmet stayed still for several more seconds, debating whether to tell Varric to shove off or to at least hear what he had to say. She was carefully watching Isabela, who didn’t move at all, she was just waiting patiently to see what Sekhmet would do. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were glazed. Was it ridiculous that Sekhmet felt proud of making her look like that? 

It helped her bruised ego to know at least someone in Kirkwall was affected by her touch, her kiss. Finally, Sekhmet let her go and moved away, an exasperated sigh on her lips. Isabela slid off the bench and headed for the bar.

“What is it you want, Varric?” Sekhmet’s tone was angry but her words were slurred.

“As hot as that was, and it was hot. It’s not what you really want.” 

“And just what is it that you think I want?” she snarled.

Varric sighed tiredly, “Babysitting you lot is a fulltime job with unlimited overtime. I’m exhausted, Hawke.”

“No one asked you to interfere.”

Isabela came back and sat the drinks on the table. She looked between Sekhmet and Varric, “Shit.” Locking gazes with Sekhmet she added. “You know where to find me later if you want to.” With that she grabbed her mug and left the two of them alone.

Sekhmet laughed bitterly. “You know what Varric? As usual, you're absolutely right. What I really want is Anders. The problem is I want all of him, I want him to love me, not just fuck me. But since that will never happen I might as well enjoy myself.

But Anders tells me I’m acting desperate if I mention going to the Rose. Then he tells me if I get something from them not to come to him, so I don’t go, because people depend on me. I come here to spend some time with Isabela and you feel the sudden pressing need to interrupt so the only thing I’m actually getting is frustrated. Is there a reason the two of you are forcing me into a life of chastity?”

“No one’s forcing you to do anything.”

Sekhmet sighed and stood up. “Fine Varric, sorry to have ruined your evening.” She tossed a few coins on the table and left, still aroused, but not wanting to deal with Varric.

******** 

Instead of heading home she headed to the docks. Climbing down some stairs she sat at the water’s edge, pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. 

She was drunk and overly emotional and she knew it. And for once she didn’t care. She spoke quietly into the night. “I wish you were here papa. I feel so alone, Carver’s dead and Bethany’s a Grey Warden and ma, well she’s trying to find me a husband, I guess.”

She took off her boots and stretched out a leg into the water, swirling it in the cold depths. “I did exactly what you told me not to papa. I fell in love with an apostate. And I’d follow him to the ends of Thedas if he would only let me. But he doesn’t love me back, and I don’t know what to do, I can’t stop thinking about him.”

She sat feeling the water lap at her feet for long minutes, the stress seemed to slowly seep away. The docks were quiet at night and it let her try to empty her head a bit of all the things crowding for attention. When the moon slid behind a cloud she pulled her feet out of the water and slipped them back into her boots.

She quickly tied them up and walked back up the steps slowly, being wary of her still less than sober coordination. As she neared the top of the steps she felt a hand grab onto her arm. Tyr barked sharply and Sekhmet was about to jerk away when she looked up and heard him speak.

“Peace, my friend. Varric sent Aveline and I out looking for you. He was afraid you would fall off the docks.” He tried to give her a smile, though it was awkward.

She sighed feeling the exhaustion in her limbs. Varric, of course he would know about her fondness for spending time at the docks. Was there anything about her life he didn’t know? Fenris was just trying to help, he’d been summoned by Varric and there was no reason to take her frustrations out on him. “Take me home, Fenris, please.”

He walked with her back to her estate, not rushing her. Only touching her when she wobbled a little too much to right herself without toppling over, and he never commented about her inebriated state at all, and really, what would he, of all people, possibly say to her that wasn’t hypocritical? When they finally reached her door he even gave her a real smile. “Good night.”

She thought for a moment about inviting him in, Isabela was right, he did have beautiful eyes. He’d already rejected her once though, and told her he didn’t think of her that way. There was nothing down that path except for trouble. And she didn’t want to put him on the spot just because she needed to release some tension. So instead, she struggled to smile back, “Good night.”

She headed straight for her room and opened her wardrobe looking for something to slip into to sleep in. As she rummaged through her things she came across something she had bought as a joke to rile her mother when Leandra had dragged her to buy some new clothes that ‘better suited her current position’. She pulled it out and had the most brilliant, wonderful, ridiculous idea.

She was sober enough to realize it was ridiculous, but too drunk to talk herself out of it. Undressing quickly she slipped on the frilly smalls with rows of lace across the back side before she pulled the matching ivory corset out and put it on. As drunk as she was she had trouble lacing it, but eventually got it laced up and tightened.

She looked in the looking glass and smiled, the corset actually gave her some cleavage. And it might be terribly uncomfortable but it looked pretty good on her. She tousled her hair a little and giggled, it made her look like she’d just tumbled out of bed.

She didn’t really have any shoes to go with such a pretty, frilly outfit so she just pulled on a pair of boots. Digging through the wardrobe she found a longer coat and put that on as well. Checking herself out in the looking glass again she decided she looked passable to travel. She slipped a couple knives into her pockets and jogged down the stairs and almost ran into Bodahn.

“Oh, messere Hawke, I didn’t realize you were still awake.”

She nodded, “Going to see Anders.” She enunciated carefully, not wanting him to suspect just how incredibly drunk she was.

He pressed his lips together and for a moment she thought he was going to admonish her. After a few terribly long moments he nodded, “Might I suggest taking the basement stairs?”

She hadn’t thought of that. She almost laughed; she was going to go through Hightown and Darktown in a coat and frilly lingerie when she could just run down some steps. Oh Maker, where was her head? She’d drowned the poor thing in a mix of alcohol and hormones. “Thank you, Bodahn.”

“Would you like me to escort you, messere? Make sure you get there safely?”

She coughed and shook her head no, vigorously. What would she do when she got there? _“Hey Bodahn, could you hurry back up the stairs? I’m going to be mostly naked in a moment and then I’m going to beg an apostate to fuck me.”_ She clapped her hand over her mouth to quell her laughter. “Uh, no. I’ll be alright.”

“Before I forget, there was a message that came today from Arianni, Feynriel’s mother? The messenger said it was a bit urgent.” 

She nodded, “I’ll take a look in the morning. It’s too late tonight, already.”

He nodded, “Very well, have a good evening.”

She definitely planned on it. Before she lost her nerve, or sobered up she took off for Anders’ clinic, running down the basement steps and praying that she wouldn’t fall in her inebriated state. How cute would that be? Passed out Hawke on the basement steps in her frilly, lacy knickers. More giggles escaped. Did she always giggle this much when she drank? Or was it just because this was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever done?

When she reached his door she raised her hand to knock on the door then stopped. She unbuttoned her coat first, shifting and bunching the fabric under her arms to make sure he got a good look at what she was wearing underneath it when he opened the door. _“Sweet Maker, I’m really doing this.”_

She knocked loudly on his door, it was the middle of the night and she wanted to make sure he heard her. She waited impatiently for several long moments before knocking again and then only a couple more heartbeats before she knocked a third time. If Anders didn’t answer the door soon she’d lose her nerve and race back up the basement steps.

She started knocking a fourth time and halfway through the door jerked open. Anders yanked it open with a snarl, “Wha…” the anger dissipated replaced with surprise, “Holy fuck, what are you wearing?” And then surprise was replaced with concern, “Get in here, quick.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her through the door slamming it shut behind her. “Are you crazy? Someone could have seen you like that? Are you trying to get raped?”

“I…no, I wasn’t trying to get raped. I came down the basement steps, and I was covered.” She yelled back at him. So far, this was not going to plan. But hey, angry sex was still sex wasn’t it? Sometimes it was even better. 

“Covered?” He gestured towards her, “Is that what you call it? Andraste’s ass Hawke, Isabela doesn’t show that much skin.”

She closed her eyes tight. This was definitely not the welcome she had imagined. How to get control of the situation again? What exactly had been her plan when she’d gotten here? Did she think he would have just taken one look at her, found her irresistible and swept her into his arms and taken her to his bed? Why had she thought this time was any different from all the other times he’d stopped things between the two of them.

“Hawke?” His voice was less angry.

She kept her eyes closed and remembered the kiss with Isabela, the dormant passion the Pirate Queen of Llomeryn had stirred in her. She stretched her shoulders and relaxed a bit letting the feeling settle over her, sending shivers down her spine and reheating her blood sending it rushing through her veins. Further back she pulled up the memory of Anders shoving her against the wall, touch of his tongue to her ear, the way the tip of his nose had glided over the skin of her neck.

She felt her skin warming, flushing with her arousal. It had been far too long since she’d had a lover, but she’d seduced men before. Once upon a time she’d been able to bring strong men to their knees with desire. Anders couldn’t be all that different. 

Letting her coat slither off her shoulders and slip quietly off her arms to fall to the floor she opened her eyes. She caught Anders' eyes, wanting him to see the desire there, the fire the raged inside of her. She had to have someone quench the need inside of her, and she wanted it to be him. 

He licked his lips, an unconscious gesture he often made when vexed or flustered. At least she was getting somewhere. She kept Anders pinned in her gaze as she used the heel of one boot to step on the toe of the other and pulled her foot free before tugging off the other one.

Anders’ eyes were wide. “What,” he swallowed thickly, “what are you doing, Hawke?”

She walked towards him, that wasn’t exactly right, she stalked towards him. Stalking her prey like a big cat, and didn’t Anders look like a tasty morsel? His hair was loose and mussed, likely from sleep. His eyes were dark and his light weight tunic and trousers were rumpled. Stubble lined his jaw, several shades darker than the hair on his head. Tasty indeed, and she was going to eat him alive.

She concentrated on her words, on trying to sound sexy, like a purr, and not drunk, like she really, really was. “I changed my mind Anders. I do want you to make me scream your name in ecstasy.”

His breath hitched and he took an unsteady step away from her.

“You said you’d take me any way I wanted you to.” She stalked closer, running her finger over the top of her corset. And it worked; his gaze followed her fingers to her enhanced cleavage. “I’ve thought about it. And I’ve decided I want you to take me every way you can think of.” She tugged the lace at the top of the corset and it started to slip free.

She noticed Anders was taking shaky breaths but he’d stopped backing away from her. And she was pleased to see his body obviously wanted what she did. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as she had thought it would be.

She stepped closer until she was only a couple of inches from him. She reached out and tugged the laces on his trousers. “But, I think I want you to fuck me on your work table first, so that all day while you’re tending to patients you’ll think of me, naked.”

Anders closed and covered his eyes, “Maker have mercy. You’re killing me.”

She pulled his laces free ready to get his clothes off when he gripped her wrist to stop her. He looked at her, eyes searching her face and he really did look like he was in pain. He took several long deep breaths, calming himself. She saw it in his eyes. She’d lost again. 

She wanted to curl up and die. Was this her fate? As punishment for what she’d done, for failing her father and brother so spectacularly? Punishment for letting Bethany get tainted and taken away? 

She’d follow this man, this gorgeous, intelligent, powerful, complicated, tortured man for all of her days. Throw herself at him again and again only to be rejected again and again. He wouldn’t love her, wouldn’t make love to her, wouldn’t even use her to sate their desires. Was her obsession with Anders its own form of justice? Was the man she loved possessed by the spirit of her destruction?

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. He kissed her palm tenderly and sighed. “You have absolutely no idea how much I’m going to hate myself for this later. But, I can’t Hawke.”

She chuckled a little bitterly, “You never really wanted me at all did you?”

He squeezed her hand a little, his tongue quickly wetting his lips again. “Do you really need to ask me that? I think we can both see that I do.” He gave her a small smile, “And it’s not easy holding your hand here, instead of _impressing upon you_ how much I want you.”

She pouted, frustrated and confused, “Then why?” 

He looked away and was quiet for a long time before finally looking back at her. She was shocked to see his eyes shining with what looked to be unshed tears. “Because there are some things I know I could not bear and your hatred is one of them.”

“I wouldn’t hate you, Anders. I came to you, I want this.” She wouldn’t cry just because he still wouldn’t bed her.

Still holding her hand, he stroked her hair with his other hand. He voice was soft and gentle; he was being so painfully tender with her. “Do you really just want to be another notch on my bed post?”

She tried to turn away, ashamed. That had pretty much been why she’d come to him. Why she’d dressed the way she had and knocked on his door in the middle of the night. He cupped her chin and forced her to keep looking at him, and she felt the need to respond. “It wouldn’t be like that, we’re friends.”

His eyes hardened a little and his jaw tightened, even as he drew in a ragged breath. “You’re still looking for it to be special in some way. I’ve slept with probably hundreds of people. I never really kept count. You’re not the first girl to chase after me with fairy tale dreams of winning my heart. You’re not even the first to show up at my door in the middle of the night in some ridiculous get up begging me to make them scream. And you wouldn’t even be the first woman I’d taken on one of my worktables.”

He looked angry now and his fingers were digging into the skin on her chin although his other hand still held her hand gently. “Go back to your Chantry Prince, teach him to satisfy you.” He abruptly let her go and turned away from her, already heading back to his room.

“Anders?” Her voice waivered a little, did Anders think there was something between her and Sebastian? Was that the reason he kept pushing her away? She didn’t know whether to hug him and tell him there was nothing to worry about or whether she should slap him for thinking she would keep throwing herself at him while she was supposedly with another man. 

He paused but didn’t turn around.

She tried again, “Anders, what do you mean go back to my Chantry Prince?”

He stiffened, but still didn’t turn around. “Do I really need to explain it?”

She walked closer to him, “We’re not lovers, you know. Sebastian and I are friends, he calls me sister and I call him brother.”

Anders jerked, twisting his body but stopped just short of looking at her. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you.” He finally said.

Maybe it was foolish, but everything she did in relation to Anders was more than a bit foolish, but she thought she understood what was going on here, now. She risked touching his arm, unsure what his response would be. “I know what you’re doing. I may be drunk, but I know when someone is trying to stop me from what they think would be a huge mistake.”

His head drooped forward. “Please go home, Hawke.” Oh, that voice called to her, hurt, aching, needy, she knew it so well. 

She tugged on his arm until he faced her. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest, just holding him. “Thank you.” She murmured.

Eventually, when she didn’t let go he wrapped his arms around her as well. He kissed her hair and whispered softly against it. “Meus parum leana, sic ferus ita fragilis. Ego diligo vos quod vos es effergo meus pectus pectoris.”1

She lifted her head “What?” She knew enough that he was speaking Arcanum, but had no idea what he’d said. Papa had never made her learn it. She wished now that she had.

“Never mind, come on. Let’s get your coat and get you home.” He spoke quietly, and released her as a swirl of sapphire blue danced around her.

“Ugh, I’m sober.” She made a face.

“Not exactly, just more alert.” He walked over and picked up her coat, shook it off then carried it back to her.

Feeling rather foolish suddenly she slipped it back on and grabbed her boots sitting on the nearest cot to pull them on. She would have thought she’d be angry or hurt by his rejection, that once again he had refused her even when all she’d wanted was sex. But she found herself feeling incredibly grateful that her friendship was apparently important to him. 

He’d wanted her, she had very clearly seen how much he had wanted her, but had denied himself momentary pleasure in order to hopefully keep their friendship. So alright, she’d struck out twice tonight, yet she felt good. She’d found something worth having, something more important than sex. 

Though this dry spell was a bit ridiculous, she couldn’t stay celibate forever just because there was only one man she truly desired. Eventually, her body would win out and she’d have to take a lover. There was only so much a woman could do for herself.

“Want me to walk you back, make sure you make it up all those steps okay. Regardless of how you feel, you’re still inebriated.” His eyes couldn’t stay still; they ran over her face and over her now completely covered body. Was he regretting his decision now?

She wouldn’t make it harder on him. “No, I think I’m alright to stumble home on my own.” She headed for the door and was nearly out it when she remembered Bodahn’s comments before she left. “I…uh, might need you for a job tomorrow. An urgent message came from Arianni, I haven’t read it yet so I’m not sure what she needs.”

He nodded, “Very well, I’ll make sure I’m available.”

“Thanks,” she murmured before closing the door behind her and heading home, feeling fairly good considering the circumstances.

********

Fenris was at her door before she was even awake for the morning. She dressed quickly and headed down to the foyer where he was waiting. He even managed a smile when he saw her.

“Hey, is everything alright?” She had no idea what would make him show up so early.

He nodded, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something. I just don’t want any awkwardness between us.” He stopped and tilted his head, looking at her more closely, “Maybe I should be asking you if you’re alright.”

She chuckled and rubbed her temples, “Yeah, a little sensitive from the drink but mostly I’m alright.” She snorted, “I thought I’d be mortified actually.”

He raised a brow querulously, “Why, we’ve all seen you drunk before. And everyone has seen Isabela locking lips with someone at the tavern.”

Sekhmet felt herself blush, she’d actually forgotten all about kissing Isabela in the middle of the tavern. “Ah, I suppose Varric’s told half of Kirkwall by now.”

He smirked, “I don’t know about Varric but Isabela’s telling anyone who will listen how good of a kisser you are.”

“Oh, Maker,” Sekhmet groaned.

His smile cranked up another notch and his green eyes twinkled with mischief. “We shared a bottle of wine and compared notes last night.”

“What?” She really couldn’t picture Fenris sitting around playing kiss and tell. He really didn’t seem the type, especially not with someone who had kissed as many people as Isabela.

He nodded, “You were the only topic of discussion for a very long night.” 

“Now I know you’re lying. I’m sure you have better things to talk about than a kiss from three years ago.” 

“MMm, we talked about how you tasted for a good hour before we decided what it was you taste like, shall I tell you?” 

She flushed even darker, “Fenris, what has gotten in to you?”

He closed his eyes and smiled fondly, “Last night, several bottle of Salice Salentino Riserva. Today? Just amusement at watching you blush.”

“Messere Hawke,” Bodahn came into the room carrying a sealed piece of parchment. “Forgive me for intruding, but you did want to read this message first thing this morning.”

She nodded and took the parchment from him, “Thank you.”

“What is it?” Fenris was calmer now, more somber.

She popped it open and scanned over it, her stomach sinking. “It’s Arianni. Her son is a half elven apostate living with the Dalish. It seems he’s in trouble, again. Dammit, I was just at the Dalish camp not too long ago. Went to go check on a few things and talk to Master Ilen about a new…” She stopped herself, he didn’t need to know what she was doing up there. “Anyway, I ran into a bunch of Templar’s facing off with a group of Dalish hunters.”

Fenris shook his head, “And you stuck yourself right in the middle of it, didn’t you?”

“The Templars had crossed the line.” She huffed, remembering how angry the Dalish were and how angry she had been when the Templars seemed proud of what they’d done. “They captured one of the Dalish children just learning to hunt and tortured him with fire. And then boasted they would do worse just to get to Feynriel. I couldn’t let them get away with it.”

He just sighed, “And so you killed them.”

She smiled, couldn’t help herself. “I did.” She scanned the letter over again. “It doesn’t look like Templars this time. Seems the problems with his dreams have gotten worse.”

Fenris clenched his jaw, “I’m going with you.”

She shook her head, “No, I’m taking Anders.”

“Fine, we’ll both go.”

She really didn’t want to fight with him; she fought with everyone all the time. _“Life, you have drained me dry, taken all the laughter and smiles from me and replaced them with scowls and shouting. I hate you.”_ Well that was just fantastic, her head was aching and apparently she was just going to be a miserable bitch today. “If you two start your bullshit, I’ll gut you both!” She growled.

He smirked again, “Good luck finding another man to glow blue for you.”

She mocked scowled at him before smiling a little. Fenris and his sense of humor, how pleasantly surprising. Freedom was beginning to really suit him.

********

She watched Anders’ almost smile barely refrain from turning into an all out scowl when he caught sight of Fenris standing next to her. He gave a curt nod and moved off to the side, not even looking at her. She supposed it was the best she could hope for.

“So, we’re all ready to go then?” She looked around at her boys.

They all nodded, Anders and Fenris choosing to hold their tongues, which was fine with her. Varric just wasn’t much of a morning person. Something she could commiserate with, but Arianni’s letter had seemed pressing so she hadn’t wanted to wait any longer than she already had.

They headed for the Alienage and few moments later Anders fell into step beside her. “How’s the head?”

She smiled ruefully, “A little imp with a hammer seems to have taken up residence in it.”

He reached out, long fingers tracing over her temple and down her cheek. “Better?”

She shivered at the contact; she’d been so sure he’d be careful to never touch her again. With the pain in her head blessedly gone she sighed with relief, “Much, thank you.”

He nodded and fell back a few steps. Right, strictly healer duty, she could live with that. After their little episode last night it could have been much worse. Fenris was walking to her other side and was scowling, but he remained silent. 

As soon as they made it down the steps into the Alienage they caught sight of Arianni. She was pacing in front of her door, gnawing on what was left of her nails and muttering to herself. The poor woman looked so scared.

Her head jerked up at Sekhmet and the others approached. Her eyes lit up with relief. ““I was hoping you’d come. You’ve done so much for my Feynriel already, I visited him among the people but he turned me away. I know the demons still plague him. And now they’ve taken him. Two days ago Feynriel went into a nightmare and hasn’t returned.”

Sekhmet had been worried that might have been the issue, “He can’t be woken up?”

Arianni nodded, “The Keeper says he is near death, his lips still fog a mirror, but that is all.”

So they needed help to save Feynriel, but what was Sekhmet supposed to do? “Surely there are mages who can pursue him in the Fade?”

“Not among the Dalish. Keeper Marethari says the Dalish have an ancient ritual that might help. But it requires that someone Feynriel trusts to enter the Fade to free him.”

She was more than a little surprised, “You think he trusts me enough to want to send me in after him?”

“You made a strong impression when you rescued him from the slavers. My Dalish friends tell me he speaks of you all the time.” Arianni took a deep breath. “The Keeper says Feynriel’s powers are a throwback to ancient magics that once let elves shape the Fade. The only way to reach him is through his dreams.”

“How would such a magic work?”

Arianni shook her head, “I am no mage, I only know the Keeper said it was a power greatly feared by the Tevinter Magisters.”

“Then I suppose we better bring him back and keep his powers away from the demons.” 

Fenris stiffened beside her, “The Fade is a place for mages, not for people like you and I.”

Anders voice spoke quietly from behind her, “You’ll need someone experienced in the Fade to come with you.”

Fenris’ lip pulled into a sneer as he turned to look at Anders. “I think the last thing she needs in the Fade is to deal with you and your passenger.”

She was about to tell Fenris to relax when Anders spoke up again, voice still soft and quiet. “She doesn’t have to take me. We know another mage, someone else familiar with the Fade. Merrill lives close by, does she not?”

“What kind of choice is that an abomination or a blood mage? Either way she’ll end up dealing with more demons than she has to already.” Fenris’ voice had dropped in volume but had gained in intensity. His whole body was practically vibrating with tension.

“Please you two, enough already. We don’t know anything about the ritual, chances are only one of us will be going through.” She tried to keep calm, not wanting to upset Arianni further.

Arianni just stared between the two men for a moment before eventually turning her attention back to Sekhmet. “I’ve already called for the Keeper. We need to begin the ritual as quickly as possible. You have been far kinder than I had any right to expect.”

“Your son deserves a chance, same as the rest of us.” 

Arianni stood close to her door, Sekhmet wandered away a little ways to wait for the Keeper. There was another heated exchange between Anders and Fenris, they kept their voices quiet this time so she missed what they were saying. There had been anger in Anders’ voice this time though.

Varric eventually broke it up, barking “Stop it,” at the two of them.

Seconds later Fenris was standing beside her. “You’re not really going to take the abomination into the Fade with you are you?”

She shrugged, “I need to know more about the ritual before I make any decisions. Like I said, I might be the only one going into the Fade.”

“Hawke, if you can take someone in, I urge you not to let it be him. He’s possessed and clearly a danger. Who knows what he could do to you in the Fade.” Fenris was practically pleading with her. 

“Just drop it. There’s no sense worry about it now. Besides,” she gestured behind her, “Keeper Marethari is here. Let’s go find out the details of this ritual.”

Fenris quieted but stayed stationed beside her as they watched the Keeper enter the Alienage. All of the elves seemed to know who she was, bowing deeply and watching her with reverent gazes. She slowly strolled to the Venhadal and the eternal flame burning its odd blue color beside the tree before she turned to Arianni. Everyone followed Arianni into her small house.

Marethari explained the ritual as well as Feynriel’s magic and why it made him such a target for demons. Once she finished explaining it she pulled Sekhmet aside. “There is more that I must tell you that is not for her ears.”

“Not for her ears? She’s his mother. Are you sure this isn’t just some ploy to get me alone? No offense, but tall and blonde is more my style.” She smirked a little hoping the Keeper would get the joke.

Varric snorted behind her that covered his mouth to stifle his chuckle when the Keeper glared at him.

Marethari scowled at Sekhmet too. “This is a serious matter. Feynriel cannot become an abomination. The destruction he would cause is unimaginable. If you cannot save him from the demons you much kill him, yourself. A death in the Fade will make him what your Circle calls Tranquil. He will be no threat after.”

Anger unfurled in her gut, she’d gotten her away from Arianni to ask her to make the boy Tranquil? “Absolutely not, what the Circle does to the Tranquil is ghastly. Not to mention, that’s Feynriel’s greatest fear. I won’t be the one to make it come true, and I’ll gut anyone else who tries it.” She snarled at the Keeper.

Keeper Marethari sighed resignedly, “I have no choice but to leave it in your hands. Now choose a team and we will begin. Choose carefully for all will face tempatation.”

She gave a short nod, “How many can I take with me?”

Marethari looked at the room, “I can get you all through if you wish it.”

Varric looked eager and piped up first. “I admit it, I’m a little fascinated.”

“Fenris?”

He shuffled from one foot to another, “I have no desire to explore the Fade, but if you need me I will go.”

She gave a faint nod.

Anders spoke before she even looked at him. “I worry what a journey to the Fade will bring out in me.” He flashed a quick glance at Fenris. Had Fenris made him doubt himself that much?

“You said yourself I was going to need someone familiar with the Fade to go with me. I was kind of counting on you.” 

He looked down at the floor and nodded faintly, “If that is your wish, I will go.”

“Then I’ll be going too.” Fenris interjected quickly.

Sekhmet was annoyed but Anders was still looking at the floor, he didn’t even respond to Fenris. She could argue and yell, but Feynriel was in danger even now. Who knew how long they had. She looked to Marethari, “Looks like we’re all going then, except my dog. Tyr can keep watch.”

Marethari had them all sit in chairs lined up against the wall so they could rest their heads against the wall. After setting up some tools, grinding herbs and sprinkling lyrium about she had them all close their eyes. Sekhmet waited impatiently for the ritual to take hold.

The air shifted and Sekhmet’s skin was covered in cold tingle. Her teeth and bones felt like they were vibrating. She opened her eyes her stomach clenched and she reeled a little. 

Varric’s hand reached out to steady her. “You alright, Hawke?”

She nodded, “Magic, lots and lots of magic. Made me a little woozy for a moment.”

“I had not thought to return in such a way. It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again. Not the empty air of your world.” Justice’s rich voice spoke from beside her.

“Hello Justice, is Anders not joining us?” 

He looked at her, the odd swirling blue seeming to rotate faster as he did. “Anders is here. It seems our roles in the Fade are reversed from the mortal realm.”

It made an odd sort of sense, she supposed.

Fenris lit up his lyrium tattoos, setting Sekhmet’s teeth on edge again. “I told you not to bring him, Hawke. The demon’s taken over already.”

“Stand down, Fenris.” She snapped, “Justice is not a demon and he has done nothing wrong.”

Fenris glared at her for a moment but let his tattoos flicker out. “Fine, but I’ll be watching him. One wrong move and I’ll end him.”

Justice tilted his head looking curiously at Fenris, but didn’t speak. After a few seconds he seemed to dismiss Fenris all together. He turned his attention back to Sekhmet. “Come, I sense Feynriel’s mind straining. We will not have much time.”

Justice started walking forward and she watched him for a moment, curious. He seemed calm, business like. He was so different from the Justice she usually got to see. Was this the real Justice and the one she normally saw was just what he was like when he was angry? Even in the Deep Roads he’d been furious.

He paused and looked back at her, the tilt of his head looking like a question. She flashed him a smile and walked after him. He waited until she fell into step beside him before taking off again. Her smile widened, had he picked up some of Anders’ habits?

As they strode through the halls she noticed that Justice didn’t smell like Anders. The smell of Anders’ magic didn’t cling to him in the Fade. Here in the Fade Justice smelled like freshly oiled steel, masculine sweat and just the slightest bit like the air after lightning. He very much smelled like a warrior.

He walked like one to; Anders’ flowing grace was almost completely gone. He still had grace, but it was a warrior’s grace, with solid and economical movements. He even held his arms different, like they were broader than they were. His footsteps seemed heavier to her than Anders’ were as well. Maybe it was just her imagination, but the more she watched him the less Justice seemed like Anders.

He paused just short of opening a door, “There is a demon in the next room. Be ready.”

She nodded and followed him through. He came to halt in the middle of the room and she stopped beside him as a demon slithered across the floor towards them. Varric stopped by her other side and Fenris stopped beside him.

“Well, it’s rare to see two forgotten magic’s in one day. It’s usually a slow place, the Fade, not many surprises. I wasn’t sure I’d like this one, but it has…potential.”

Justice’s voice rumbled next to her. “A demon of sloth, it exists to make men forget their purpose and their pride. Do not relax around it.”

The demon had halted its forward progress as soon as Justice had spoken. “Call me Torpor, I have a proposition that might interest you.”

She felt a sudden brush of warmth against her side, she turned to look but Justice hadn’t moved and the warmth was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Not sure what to make of it, especially as Justice was still staring straight at the demon; she turned her attention back to the demon. “Speak, but I promise nothing.”

Another quick shimmer of heat, warmer this time, but just as quickly gone.

The demon had a soft, soothing voice. “I trust you are here for the mage Feynriel. Two of the most powerful demons of this realm are vying for control of him. Sadly, I am no warrior. I couldn’t stand up to them, but if I did I’d only want the boy’s power to secure my position in the Fade.”

Justice finally looked to her, “Do not listen to him, sloth demons prey on your trust.”

“I’d be no threat to your world.” The sloth demon countered.

She nodded at Justice to let him know she had heard him and would heed his advice. The message must have made it through, his body seemed to relax somewhat. He kept watching her however.

She quickly pressed the sloth demon for more information, which he was oddly only too happy to provide. And when she was finished listening, she turned to look at Justice, his blue eyes still watching her. She smiled at him with a wink before turning back to the sloth demon. “I think you’ve out lived your usefulness demon. What do you think, Justice?”

He stepped forward, “Defintely,” he unleashed a spell on the demon that Sekhmet couldn’t identify.

She didn’t have time to worry about it as a few other demons that had been lurking about tried to come to the sloth demon’s defense. When the demons were all dead she realized she could smell Anders’ magic. Since Justice got magic from Anders it made sense that it smelled like Anders’ magic.

Justice was standing back at her side. “There is a demon on each side of this hall weaving illusions for Feynriel. Where would you like to go first?”

“I know we can best a desire demon so let’s head there first.”

He nodded and gestured to the door on the right. “The demon was right; we need to help Feynriel come to the realization. It would be hazardous to try to force the knowledge on him abruptly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She jogged up the stairs on the right. 

She opened the door and a bright light engulfed her. Feynriel’s voice was coming from in front of her so she moved forward a few steps. She pulled up short when she realized something was wrong. Her armor was gone and so were her weapons. And when she looked around she couldn’t see Justice, Fenris or Varric.

“You are inside of the demons illusion. You have become part of it.” Justice’s voice spoke quietly in her head.

She shuddered unused to the feeling. Was this what it was like for Anders? “Justice?” she whispered, “Where are you?”

“We are here in the room with you. You will not be able to see us or hear the others until the illusion is broken.” His voice was gentle and she realized he was trying to keep her calm.

How was she supposed to be calm though? Justice was in her damn head. Maker, if he thought Anders’ head was a mess, he really would be a demon after spending a few minutes in her head. And if he was in her head, did that mean Anders was also? Could he see all her thoughts about him? 

She closed her eyes, _“Justice?”_ She waited for a few moments.

In front of her she spotted what must have been a young Feynriel with his father, Vincenzo. Vincenzo seemed to be teaching Feynriel how to write. With all the praise Vincenzo was heaping on Feynriel, he was clearly the demon.

 _“Now what do I do?”_ She asked in her head. There was no response from Justice. _“Justice, what do I do?”_ Still nothing. “Justice?” She spoke out loud this time, her voice quiet but she still sounded a little panicked. When she heard her own voice she realized she had taken on the role of Arianni.

“Yes?”

“Could you not here me?” She whispered.

“I cannot hear your thoughts.” 

That was a huge relief. And now that she wasn’t worrying about damaging Anders and Justice irreparably she was better able to think. She played Aranni’s role, reminding Feynriel that Vincenzo hadn’t been there for him while he was growing up. 

Feynriel was quickly able to realize that something was wrong and the illusion fell away revealing the desire demon. Fenyriel shrieked at the sight of her and disappeared from the room in a haze of pale blue shimmering light. As soon as he was gone the rest of the illusion faded.

Justice had been standing beside Sekhmet the entire time. While the other two were only a few feet behind her. She was entirely grateful to be able to see them all again, as well as being back to herself, armor, weapons and all.

The desire demon’s gaze narrowed on her, “You…you turned him against me.”

Sekhmet smirked, unable to help herself. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help, honest.”

The desire demon smirked a little, “You might have cost me a dreamer, but at least you will give me a death.”

She was harder to defeat than desire demons they had come across before. However, even with other demons helping her they were able to defeat her without too much hassle. Sekhmet was glad; she wanted to get out of the Fade as soon as possible. She still couldn’t quite shake the queasy feeling she had. And she was more than a little tired of seeing Fenris glowering at Justice.

She was grateful that Fenris wanted to protect her. It was just the way he did it that drove her nuts. And the sooner the two of them were separated from each other, the better; which was a shame because the four of them really worked beautifully together. She was sure they would have had to work much harder to kill the demons if she had brought anyone else.

She strode from the room, ready to find the pride demon and destroy it. Instead, she was greeted by more rage demons. The four of them sliced through the demons quickly and easily and moved on to the other door. It led into a long hall and at the end of it there was another door.

When she opened it, the same thing happened as had occurred in the room with the desire demon’s illusion. This time the illusion was of Keeper Marethari presenting Feyrniel as the savior of her people. And Sekhmet looked like…she clapped her hand over her mouth quickly to stop herself from laughing out loud. She looked like First Enchanter Orsino.

“Steady, this vision is stronger than the last.” She found the sound of Justice’s voice reassuring as she stepped forward. 

The Keeper was obviously the demon; she wasn’t sure how Feynriel could miss it. Power to fuel the illusion rolled off it in waves. Sekhmet moved forward and waited for the demon to stop talking.

Feynriel, looked flustered but pleased, “I don’t know what to say.”

Sekhmet wasn’t sure where to start this time without completely shattering the illusion. She hoped that if she didn’t point out it was a demon that it would be enough for him to figure it out on his own without shattering his mind. She tried gently prompting him, letting him know it was a trick but the demon easily countermanded her.

She took a deep breath, she knew how sensitive he was in regards to being half human, but she needed him to realize what was going on. “Could the elves trust you with the power to shape reality?” He tried briefly to interrupt but Sekhmet pushed on, “Could you trust yourself?”

The demon was unable to override her this time and Feynriel glared at the demon and dismissed it. “Be gone fiend.” He turned and walked away disappearing into the blue light again.

The demon tried quickly to re-ensnare Feynriel but when it failed it whirled around starring accusingly at Sekhmet. “Why did you interfere?” It let the illusion dissolve, “With my power joined to his Feynriel would have changed the world.”

Nothing to do but watch mortals and covet their lives and still demons thought all mortals thought the same way they did. “The boy only wants his freedom; he could care less about your power.”

The demon towered over her and those she travelled with. “Those who are free to choose always want power. You think your friends are different? You think this slave would choose you over his freedom?”

Fenris stepped forward and sneered at the demon. “Cast your eyes elsewhere demon. I won my freedom from the magisters long ago.”

The demon was unfazed. “But you fear them still they have left their marks on your body and your mind. With my power you could be free forever, you would have power enough to challenge any that would chain you.”

“Fenris knows demons cannot be trusted, that they lie. Do you really think he’d fall for your tricks?” 

Fenris instead of looking angry as she expected looked unsure, “But to face them as an equal…”

She couldn’t believe him, “Are you kidding me?”

He turned his eyes away from her at least having the decency to look ashamed before speaking to the demon again. “What would you want from me?

“A moment of your time nothing more.”

Fenris pulled his sword, and advanced slowly on Sekhmet.

“Broody, what the Void are you doing?” Varric called out rushing to Sekhmet’s side.

“Stay out of this Varric. You and Justice can handle the demon and the other’s until I settle this?” She asked, sounding much calmer that she felt.

He nodded, “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She slipped her daggers free, “You sure you want to do this Fenris? Want to choose empty promises from a demon over your friends?”

“I’d hardly call the three of you friends.” He started circling her looking for an opening.

“You know you can’t beat me.” 

“We’ll see…” he shot forward.

Even as angry as she was with him she didn’t want to draw it out too much. There was still the demon to deal with. She stayed where she was and let him come to her. He swung his blade and she easily dropped to the floor, avoiding it completely. She rolled and swept the back of his knee with her dagger severing the tendons there.

She’d fought with him enough to anticipate his moves. When he moved the blade to strike her side she moved out of the way, but just barely. The sword caught a bit of her, slicing though her armor and leaving a fiery trail of pain in its wake.

She used his body for leverage and spun around him striking the back of his other knee. Dropping her daggers quickly she used both hands to pull his sword from his grip while he was still stunned and tumbling forward. She tossed it across the room before picking her daggers back up.

Fenris growled and flipped himself over, striking out at her with a fist and the sharp spikes of his other gauntleted hand. She managed to dodge the fist but took the spikes to the shoulder. He pulled back and started to faze to blue.

Fury rippled through her. He wasn’t just trying to incapacitate her now; he was trying to kill her. She took her dagger and shoved it into his gut until she felt it hit the stone below his body, then viscously jerked it upwards. His ghost effect waned and his hands reached for her dagger in his abdomen.

His mouth opened in a rictus of pain and his eyes fluttered. She thought for a moment he would pass out, but he held out. “Hawke, please just kill me.” he managed to splutter out lips coated with blood.

She pulled her dagger from his abdomen and held it to his throat. Anger burned like fire through her veins. It was chased by the acid of betrayal. How could he choose that damned demon after all the times he had lectured about how dangerous Anders was?

She should cut his traitorous tongue from his mouth. “You fucking bastard,” she seethed. “I want you to remember this. I want you to remember how you were the one to betray me, to stab me in the back. That when push came to shove, it was the _abomination_ that stood beside me and it was you who were the traitor.”

He remained silent but he was clearly ashamed.

“I should give you a traitor’s death, maybe stab you in the back or leave you here to suffer like this.” She almost hated him at that moment. “How fucking dare you Fenris, after all your damn lecturing?” She was losing steam now, more hurt than angry. The fire was seeping away. “How could you turn on us?” 

But that wasn’t really the problem was it? No, she’d begun to trust Fenris when it came to battles like this. And that was why she was so angry and so hurt. He’d proved to her yet again that trust was stupid thing to place in other hands. He was yet one more lesson that she could rely on no one but herself.

“How could you turn on me, Fenris?”

He closed his eyes and turned his head away, either unwilling or unable to answer.

She sighed and slit his throat, she’d have to explain what happened to the others but she was sure they would understand. Anders might even be happy. She stood slowly, the blood covering her armor making her feel sick to her stomach. 

She touched two fingers to it and drew a line across both cheeks as well as her nose: War paint.

This was a war; she was at war with the world. Even allies couldn’t be depended on. The only one she could really count on was herself. And those that dared to travel with her would be smart to realize that she’d kill them just as quickly as she would a stranger if she needed to.

She joined the fight with the demon and it seemed to fly by quickly. Before she knew it the behemoth was lying dead at their feet. Varric looked around the room paling when he saw Fenris’ body lying on the stone. He didn’t speak, just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Where’s the boy, Justice?” She asked, wanting to get out of here.

“Back in the main hall, I believe he is waiting for us.”

“What’s on your face Hawke?” Varric asked, his voice cold.

She looked at him, feeling wooden herself. “Exactly what you think it is.” She didn’t wait for a response, she quickly strode to the main hall. Justice was right, Feynriel stood in the middle of the hall. She jogged down the steps to see how he was doing. 

As soon as she got close he began speaking. “I’m not sure if this is real. If so it is the second time I owe you my life. The Fade feels different now; I see the stitches, the seams holding it together. I feel I could wake at any moment.”

Shouldn’t she feel glad that Feynriel had made it through unscathed? “That’s good, Feynriel.” She really had nothing else to say. 

Feynriel barely noticed her; he was fascinated with what he had learned. “I see why the chantry fears us. I’ve heard tails of magisters who stalked their enemies and used their own dreams to destroy them. You’re right, I must master it, find someone to study under. The Dalish do not have what I need, perhaps Tevinter. If these powers can be trained it would be there.”

Varric walked forward and looked at her with sad eyes, but a look of calm determination on his face. “This is a far cry from the sniveling boy we pulled from those slavers. He may be ready.”

She nodded.

Feynriel suddenly focused back on them. “My mother would not look kindly on such a journey; can you give her my farewell?”

“I can, if that is your wish.”

With that he disappeared out of the Fade altogether. 

Justice walked up to her and took a hold of her upper arm in a gentle but firm grip. “Prepare yourself. We will be exiting the Fade now.”

No sooner had he said it than she felt jolted and jerked upright in the chair she was still sitting in. Her stomach had not appreciated the sudden shift and she dry heaved briefly. She was covered in sweat and her muscles all ached.

“Hawke are you alright?” Anders asked gently.

Remembering her war paint she touched her face as emotion made her throat tight. 

“It’s gone.” His voice almost a whisper.

“Oh Maker, what have I done, Anders?” Her voice trembled when she spoke.

“Shh, he’s fine.” He gestured behind her and she saw Fenris standing by the lone window in the room looking out it. She couldn’t see his face but he did look fine. Had he been made Tranquil then, like Feynriel would have been?

“Is my boy alright?”

Sekhmet looked up to see Arianni wringing her hands. She took a deep breath releasing it slowly willing the lump in her throat to disappear. “He is free of the Fade. He mastered his powers enough to leave.”

She rushed forward, eyes shining. “Then he lives, you saved him, I cannot thank you enough.” She turned her attention to the Keeper asking her if she could return to the Sunderlands with her.

Marethari nodded, “Of course, it was you who chose to stay away.”

Sekhmet stood up, needing to give Arianni Feynriel’s message. “He must go elsewhere to train, there is no one in Kirkwall to help him, he asked me to say goodbye.”

Arianni looked stricken, “My son…no, I must find him before he goes.”

The Keeper always calm spoke with Arianni patiently as if she were a child. “It is wise for him to seek guidance; Kirkwall cannot provide what he needs.” She turned around and ushered Sekhmet a little away from where Arianni was now sobbing. “I truly did not think what you did was possible. You are a rare human indeed.”

Fenris finally turned from the window and walked slowly towards them. He couldn’t have been Tranquil because he looked absolutely agonized. “I must apologize for my weakness.”

Sekhmet opened her mouth to speak not sure what she was going to say. She wasn’t sure if he was glad he was alright or still angry. Anders interrupted her though choosing to inject a little humor.

He looked to Fenris with a little smirk, “I find there’s nothing like being possessed to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

Fenris didn’t respond, just walked back to the window, staring out it again. 

Marethari watched him go, shaking her head a little sadly. “Your friend awakened here some time ago. No one is immune to a demon’s offer. You accomplished a miracle with Feynriel. This book belonged to the last dreamer of our tribe. It has a rare magic, beyond price. Please accept it with my gratitude.”

Hawke looked at the book curiously. What an odd thing to give a human, and a non mage at that. “Uhm, thanks,” she muttered.

Anders escorted her out of the house, seeming to sense how drained Sekhmet was. Varric and Fenris followed. Fenris was watching the ground now, not even looking up at Sekhmet when Varric stopped right in front of them.

“Blondie, want to give Broody here a look over, make sure he’s alright before we get going?” 

Fenris spoke up without looking up. “I’m fine. The Keeper checked me for injuries. I don’t have any.”

Varric sighed with obvious relief, “Then I think the two of us are going to get out of here.”

Sekhmet nodded, she could understand Varric didn’t want to be around her right now. She didn’t really want to be around herself right now. She was surprised when Fenris slowly raised his head.

“Hawke, I’m…” His eyes drifted shut briefly and he grimaced as if in pain. When he opened them again he looked like a puppy who had been kicked too many times. “I’m so sorry.”

She waived him off, “Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t want to talk about what had happened between them, now or ever if she could get away with it.

Varric turned and lead the still quiet Fenris out of the Alienage. Anders stood beside Sekhmet, his hand on her upper arm, much as Justice’s had been. He watched the others go, waiting for them to be out of sight before turning back to her.

His hand moved up to her shoulder, “Are you going to be honest with me now?” 

She gave him a feeble smile. “Probably not.”

“Where do you want to go?” He was being so sweet and gentle with her, even after he’d just seen her kill one of the others. 

She suppressed the mad laughter trying to bubble up within her. Was this how Anders felt after Justice had attacked her? No wonder he’d wanted her to stay away from him. “Just home.”

He moved to her side, putting his arm around her shoulders almost protectively, “Home it is.” He tried to coax her forward but she stayed where she was. “What?”

“Thank you for the offer, but I can get there on my own.” 

His eyes hardened just the slightest, “You can, but you won’t. You’re stuck with me until I get you home. So we can either get going now, or we can stand around here in the Alienage for a few hours, your choice.”

She stared at him for a few minutes but when she realized he meant it she let him walk her back to Hightown. Everyone gave the two of them a wide berth, something she didn’t think about until after the fact. She wasn’t sure how Anders had managed it but she appreciated it.

When they got to the estate he ushered her inside and called for Bodahn. He gave the dwarf explicit instructions to make sure she ate and got rest. Bodahn beamed at Anders and assured him it would be done.

Anders was halfway out the door when she remembered the book the Keeper had given her. “Anders, wait.”

He stopped and turned back looking concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just thought you might have more use for this than me. I have no idea why she gave it to me.” She shrugged and handed the book over.

His eyes lit up with real excitement. “Thank you, Hawke. I appreciate it. It should be fascinating reading.” He nodded to Bodahn again and disappeared out the door.

Bodahn ushered her up to her room, setting her in a comfortable chair in front of the fire before disappearing. He returned with a plate of bread and fruits. “The healer said you are to eat, messere.”

She gave him her best attempt at a smile. “I will, thank you Bodahn.” She took the plate and stared into the fire while popping a berry into her mouth to make Bodahn happy. The dancing flames were hypnotizing, soothing her and letting her mind go mercifully blank.

 

1 My little lioness, so fierce and so fragile. I love you and you are breaking my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is very long, thank you so much for bearing with me.


	35. A Night On The Coast

Anders woke to the distant sound of laughter, a loud raucous laugh followed by a happy bark. A smile found its way to his lips as he moved towards the flap of his tent. A warm rain was falling outside, not exactly a drizzle, but not a downpour either. Grabbing his coat he worked himself carefully into it before venturing out into the night.

The laughter punctuated by happy barks led him down the path to a clear patch of sand on the coast. What he found took his breath away. Leaning against a tree, keeping himself half hidden he watched the woman who had stolen his heart as she played in the rain with the man who would always be number one in her heart; her dog Tyr.

Her white hair hung in limp strands as she chased her coal black Mabari across the sand. The droplets of rain that clung to his fur glittered like gems in the thin shafts of moonlight that peeked through the clouds. A cat person through and through, he still couldn’t deny Tyr’s appeal. The dog was smart, fast, fiercely loyal and he never hesitated in protecting his owner.

Hawke’s shock white hair glittered just as brightly and when she moved just right he could see a droplet highlighted on her eyelashes. Barefoot, dressed in trousers and tunic she was covered in mud and Sweet Andraste, Anders wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anything so beautiful in his life. After chasing her across the clearing Tyr tackled her and she lay in the mud on her back laughing as the dog joyfully licked her face.

She and Tyr both froze at the same time; Anders was fascinated they’d detected his presence, seemingly at the same time. Hawke didn’t move until Tyr let out a low growl. She kissed Tyr’s nose and pushed him off her. “Shh, it’s alright, it’s just Anders.”

Tyr lifted his head up, sniffing in Anders’ direction before he gave a happy bark and bounded straight for where Anders was standing. Anders crouched down to greet the dog, hoping to save himself from being bowled over backwards into the mud. Scratching Tyr’s ears he looked over the dog’s back to see Hawke pulling herself out of the mud.

She walked over to them and gave Anders a completely unapologetic smile. “Sorry, did I wake you?” She reached down and patted Tyr’s back. “We like to play in the rain sometimes.”

Anders stood and wiped his muddied hands off on his coat, “You sounded like you were having fun.”

“We were,” She kissed the dog’s nose, “weren’t we boy? Nothing better than a little summer rain and open spaces.” Looking up into Anders’ eyes she pinned him with her gaze, “And just why, my dearest apostate, were you spying on us?”

Anders actually felt himself flush and chided himself; Hawke still pulled the strangest reactions from him. “I didn’t want to intrude.” He was expecting her to make another smart remark, that excuse had sounded weak even to him.

She left his answer alone though, instead reaching to run her hand briefly over his shoulder. “Looks strange without the feathered pauldrons.”

He shrugged, “Would have looked stranger with wet, bedraggled feathers. Besides, you’re one to talk, all covered in mud.”

They stood in the relative safety from the rain under the tree and spoke for a little bit, just about trivial things, small talk. He knew they should have headed back to the camp, but he was enjoying her company without prying eyes. She was calm and relaxed for the first time since they’d left Arianni’s.

It started raining harder and Anders huddled closer to the tree trunk but Hawke stepped back out into the pouring rain, letting it sluice over her. He’d been about to call her mad when he realized she was trying to clean off some of the mud caking her clothes. Another smile tugged from his lips as she turned about slowly, face upturned to the sky as she used her hands to get rid of the mud. Tyr barked and danced in circles around her. She looked like a pagan goddess dancing in the rain. Or maybe that was just his crazy lovelorn mind.

When at last she seemed satisfied she stepped back under the tree, ringing her hair out and shivered a little. She smiled up at him, a soft and radiant smile. “It might be time to get out of the rain and into our tents. I’m a bit chilly.”

“Come, I’ll make you some tea.” He jogged through the downpour headed back towards their camp.

“MMmm, tea without having to build a fire, no wonder I adore mages.” She giggled as she ran after him.

“Ah ha, the truth comes out.” He teased as he opened the flap to his tent and let her crawl in, following behind her. He was a little less pleased when Tyr pushed his way in as well.

“Tyr, go back to my tent, there’s not enough room in here for the three of us.” She softly admonished. Tyr let out heavy exhalation, almost like a sigh and padded out of the tent again. Hawke looked at Anders and shrugged, “Sorry about that. He’s so used to going everywhere with me.”

Anders nodded and started digging through his pack looking for the tea. He was glad she’d sent Tyr away. He’d had visions of the big dog soaking the entire inside of his tent trying to shake the water and mud out of his fur. “He’s a good Mabari and an excellent protector. I can understand why you keep him with you.”

She shrugged, “I think I’ll be safe for now. Unless you’re secretly planning on drugging my tea so you can get some undisturbed sleep.”

Having found what he was looking for he sat back on his haunches to make them some tea. Magic really was a wonderful thing and they were sipping steaming mugs in no time. He relaxed and let himself enjoy the quiet time together and sound of the rain. He almost never took the time to relax like this.

Long minutes passed before she spoke again. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

He glanced at her, feeling languorous. “Hmm?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look happy.” 

Was he happy? Yes, he thought he might just be. He was relaxing with Hawke who wasn’t pushing at him or demanding something from him. She’d lost that hollow haunted look she’d had over the last few days and looked content herself. And he’d been privileged enough to see something beautiful and joyous tonight when she’d been playing with her dog. “Well, I’ve definitely felt worse.”

She bumped into his shoulder playfully, “Come on, just admit it. You’re happy.”

“Alright,” he conceded, “I’m happy.”

She beamed at him and fell back into silence. Anders wasn’t sure what exactly had prompted it, but he was enjoying the new found ease between them. He knew it would probably be short lived, it always was, so best to enjoy it while he could.

He watched her drinking her tea, not feeling pressured to fill the silence between them. She yawned a few times but stayed, seeming as if she wanted to prolong their time together. When she drained her cup he gently pulled it from her fingers.

“I think it’s time you went to bed, you’re starting to look a bit tired.” He prompted.

“I was enjoying your company.” 

“And I was enjoying yours. Go get some rest.” He held the flap open for her and waited for her to crawl out.

She stopped right before leaving. “Sorry for leaving your stuff all wet.”

He shrugged, “It will dry.” 

She slipped out and he took off his coat, moved the wet things to one side of the tent and slid back into his bedroll. When he lay down and closed his eyes he was surprised to find himself still smiling. What a strange and wonderful night.

*********

The next morning Sekhmet woke feeling refreshed even though she hadn’t slept that much. Maybe it was getting away from the city, or maybe it had been the pleasant time with Anders. It had warmed her considerably when she realized he had been happy.

Of course, in the long run it just made things worse because now she wanted to make him happy all the time. That devastatingly beautiful smile was so very worth it. Anders was so very worth it. 

She dressed and climbed from her tent; Tyr had awoken and left nearly an hour before. Anders was already awake, walking the edge of the encampment and sipping what she assumed was tea. He glanced at her and a soft smile touched his lips briefly as he held his mug up in friendly salute.

Sebastian strolled over to her with a smile of his own, “Good morning.”

“Morning. Where’s Merrill?” 

He shrugged shaking his head, “She went off a little while ago. Said she would be back soon, but didn’t really say where she was going. Should I have gone with her?”

“No, it’s probably fine. It’s not like she’s new to the Coast or anything. She knows it can be dangerous.” She found herself watching Anders who was clearly just killing time, stopping to look at some vegetation, walking around a bit more before examining some more.

“So what’s on the schedule for today?” 

She turned her attention to Sebastian who was watching her with amusement. “Just a patrol basically, Aveline said they’re having problems with packs of dogs. Apparently, many of the Fereldens who brought theirs with them to Kirkwall couldn’t afford to take care of them so they turned them out. 

“The ones who left the city, or were brought out of the city seem to have formed packs out here. And now that they’ve been out here for a few years they’re feral and aggressive. There have been a lot of injuries both to citizens and guards.”

Sebastian scowled, “Why did she ask you? Surely, she knows it would be a difficult task for you, given your feelings about dogs.”

She nodded, “I think that’s why she asked me, because she knew I wouldn’t make them suffer.”

He relaxed and nodded, “Ah, yes I suppose that does make sense.” He started to walk away from her.

“Oh, before I forget, the others will be joining us tomorrow morning.” 

He stopped and looked at her curiously, “Why, do we think there’s going to be that much of a problem?”

She smiled, “Not at all. I just thought that maybe we should try a little training together. Most of us haven’t worked together all that much. And since I promised Varric I would try to get Merrill out of the house more she’s going to need to learn to fight with the rest of us. And of course it’ll be an excuse for those who haven’t yet to meet you.”

Sebastian smirked, “Well, it should be interesting at the very least.”

********

Taking care of the dogs had been exhausting, mostly on an emotional level. None of them had any real desire to hurt the dogs but they were very aggressive and definitely feral. There was no other way to make the Coast safe. 

They hadn’t sought out the dogs, just travelled throughout the Coast and dispatched those that attacked them. Sekhmet had been surprised and more than a little disgusted at the sheer number of dogs. She was surprised they hadn’t run into more of them before now. Perhaps something had recently riled them and that was why they were suddenly an issue?

As evening had settled in it was still hot and muggy. They were looking for a good place to set up camp for the night when Merrill wandered off down a small trail leading to the water. 

Sebastian smiled and walked down the small embankment with Sekhmet, “It always surprises me just how much water is here. The ocean is beautiful and vast. In Starkhaven all we have is the Minanater River.”

“You make it sound like a small river. It’s pretty big isn’t it?”

He nodded, “Aye, but nothing like this. And the coast has a kind of stark beauty to it, don’t you think?”

Sekhmet nodded in agreement, “It really does.”

Merrill jogged back to them, “Wouldn’t a swim be lovely?”

Sekhmet eyed the water, it did look awfully inviting. She was hot and sweaty and sticky and a swim would be the perfect fix. “I definitely think we should go swimming. It’s been ages since I went for a dip and it’s so hot today.” She started unbuckling her armor.

Sebastian took a step backwards, “Uh, Hawke, just what were you planning on swimming in? We don’t have anything appropriate with us.”

She paused and looked up, a devious twinkle in her eyes. “Well I was planning on skinny dipping. I mean I know you and Anders have both seen women naked before, I’ve seen a man or two naked before and I’m sure Merrill has as well.”

Merrill tilted her head, “A few.”

Sekhmet shrugged, “So, there you go.”

Sebastian was watching her closely as he spoke, “It’s not really appropriate for us to be swimming naked.”

“Will you relax, Sebastian, she’s joking.” Anders sighed dramatically and sat down on a nearby rock to pull off his boots. “We can go swimming in our smalls.” His lips quirked to the side in a small semblance of a smile, “Unless, you’re not wearing any, Prince.”

Sebastian barely contained a smile before he turned and walked back up the hill. “I’ll keep a look out while you are all making fools of yourselves.”

Sekhmet shrugged, “Suit yourself.” She’d have to track him down later to find out what the smile was all about.

Merrill was already dipping a toe into the water by the time Sekhmet turned around.

“Oh, it’s chilly.”

“Then you better hurry up and get in.”

With a squeal Merrill jumped and landed with a splash in the water. Sekhmet chuckled as she pulled off the top of her armor, followed by her tunic. She worked on pulling her boots off and turned to see Anders watching her. 

“See something you like?”

********

_“Keep going and I’ll let you know.”_ The words rose unbidden to Anders’ lips but he quickly quashed them before they were uttered. “Sorry.” He returned to his own clothing, slipping free of his coat.

“By all means, feel free. I certainly plan on looking.”

Anders was hard pressed to suppress a smile.

Shimmying out of her trousers, Hawke did a slow turn before she jumped and joined Merrill. Anders found himself smiling again as she surfaced, her stark white hair plastered to her head, the water running down over her pale skin. He closed his eyes and pulled off his own tunic and shucked his trousers before jumping in after her, only sparing a moment for the thought that this was a very bad idea before he sunk under the water.

As he surfaced he found Hawke way too close to him. Her fingers touched and traced the tattoo circling his bicep before he had even blinked the water away. “More tattoos, Anders?”

“Uh, yes.” He tried to move away from her, even as every cell in his body told him to touch her. Almost unconsciously he licked his lips as he watched a bead of water slide down between her breasts where her breast band clung, nearly sheer, to her skin. 

“I can guess where the griffon is from.”

Then she was gone, disappearing back under the water. A small gasp escaped him as she surfaced, her slick flesh sliding up his body. She broke the water just behind his shoulder, her chest still touching his back. He felt his body start to respond to all that wet flesh. 

_“Why did I jump in here after her? I knew I was asking for trouble.”_ His thoughts were little comfort as he felt a tug on his other arm when she held herself against him and traced the tattoo wrapped around that bicep as well. Her skin kept brushing against him, in a very distracting way. Had it really been that long that all it took to get him excited was a bit of skin touching his? Or maybe it was the numerous near misses the two of them had been having lately. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love tattoos? I always want to touch them, or maybe…” she let out a small giggle, “it’s just a good excuse to touch people.” Her fingers moved up his arm, ghosting lightly across his skin and trailed down his back. Over the tattoo that covered most of his back, “What is this one?”

He swam forward a bit, out of her reach and turned to look at her. “Just another tattoo. I would sometimes get them as…souvenirs during my escapes from the Circle.”

“Oh,” she gave him a playful smile, “does that mean there are more?”

Anders didn’t respond, he looked towards the shore and debated whether he should get out. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, per se, she was just curious about his tattoos. And it was dreadfully hot out, so for now he’d stay and hope she wouldn’t push him. He turned away and shouted to Merrill, “Are you planning on swimming all the way back to the city?”

Merrill jerked at the sound of his voice; she stopped and turned around to wave at the two of them. She started swimming back and Anders took the opportunity to dive under the waves and put some distance between himself and Hawke. 

Merrill returned, “We should race.” She said excitedly.

“Aren’t you tired Merrill?” Anders asked lightly.

“No, I could swim for hours. I just love it.”

Hawke smiled indulgently at the elf, “Sounds like fun. Where shall we race too?”

Merrill pointed to a stone protruding from the water some ways away. “How about there?”

Hawke’s brow creased with concern. “I don’t know Merrill, what if there are jagged rocks under the water?”

“I’m not sure I can swim and heal at the same time.” Anders surprised them both by smiling at Merrill.

“I was almost there, it looked safe.” Merrill reassured them.

“Ok, so who says go?” Hawke asked, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“We should all count to three.” Merrill suggested helpfully.

After counting the three of them took off for the rock, both Hawke and Merrill giggling wildly. It was a long swim and Anders eventually felt the pull of fatigue at his limbs. He briefly thought about using a bit of rejuvenation magic, but Justice put a quick end to that idea. _“We will not cheat, Anders.”_

Anders didn’t think he had much to worry about anyways; both Merrill and Hawke seemed to be a ways behind him. It seemed some good did come from all of those escapes from the tower; Anders actually loved to swim and was quite good at it. Of course his long limbs were probably a bit of a help as well.

He relaxed, figuring he’d easily win when he felt fingers grab onto his smalls. He felt a flush of heat followed by a moment of panic that Hawke was going to try pulling them off him, Merrill would never have grabbed him like that, it had to be Hawke. The panic was quickly replaced with annoyance as she used her grip on his smalls to pull herself close to him then pushed downwards hard, sinking him beneath the water.

Then she had the audacity to try to push off of him, her foot connected with his shoulder as she pushed him farther downwards and propelled herself forward. Before she could pull her foot away he reached up quickly and grabbed her ankle. He yanked her downwards and kicked for the surface at the same time.

Her hand grabbed his arm as he started to move past her, her nails scraping sharply against his skin. With her still gripping his arm they both surfaced together. She broke the surface of the water in a fit of giggles. Anders wanted to be angry with her, but she looked so relaxed, the shadows that had seemed to have been haunting her since he had met her, momentarily forgotten.

He gave in and smirked. “That wasn’t very sporting.”

“It was worth it to see you smile.”

Anders’ smile faltered, his thoughts beginning to sober again. He was interrupted by a small wave of water hitting him in the face. “Hey!”

She laughed a rich, full sound and on the heels of her laughter another wave of water hit Anders. He pushed the hair out of his eyes with a chuckle and splashed Hawke back. The little vixen retaliated by lunging forward and trying to push him under again, but his skin was slick and he slipped out of her grasp and swam a few feet away.

Still giggling, and what a sweet sound it was, she swam after him; lunging for him again. When he managed to dodge her she splashed him instead. After several minutes of giggling and a few intermittent chuckles from Anders, Hawke seemed like she was ready to give up. She turned and Anders thought she was going to swim away; instead she started using her feet to kick water at him.

“That’s cheating.” He said between being hit with water. He opened his mouth at the wrong time and got a mouthful of water. Coughing, he turned his head away and reached out to grab Hawke’s ankle to stop her from kicking before he drowned.

He tugged back on her perhaps a little harder than he should have. Hawke had tried to right herself to pull her leg out of Anders’ grip as she was being pulled backwards. She ended upright, pressed against Anders’ chest. Anders instinctively wrapped his arm around her as she was still flailing a little. Feeling Anders’ arm around her she stopped flailing and became mostly still, with the exception of treading water.

Anders’ heart was racing; he wanted to just hold her, just for a few minutes. Maybe it would be enough; maybe a few minutes of contact with her would help ease his constant ache, constant need for her. He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck without really thinking about it.

She shuddered and leaned back against him, their legs brushing under the water as they continued to tread water. It was nice holding her, nice to touch her without there being the screaming need for sex between them. She was so soft and so small, and she felt so right nestled against him, like she belonged there. And as nice as it was it put dangerous thoughts in his head. _“Little lioness, much more of this and I’d damn the world to make you mine.”_

And as if she’d sensed the dangerous road his mind had wandered down she broke the spell, “So I can’t ask about your tattoos but you can hold me captive against you?” She snickered.

He let go of her abruptly and pushed her away from himself. Touching her had been a mistake; swimming with her had been a mistake. It was a temptation he didn’t need. Loving Hawke from afar was much easier when she was fully clothed and in armor. Her warm wet skin touching his was just a cruel and painful reminder that he could never be with her.

Merrill had finally come back from the rock. “You know, it is very hard to lose when you both stopped swimming.”

Anders’ voice was tight, “Sorry, Merrill, Hawke tried to drown me.”

“I did not!”

He gave her a skeptical look.

“I wasn’t trying to drown you, I just wanted to win.” She mock pouted.

“How did that work out for you?” he quipped.

Hawke turned quickly and started swimming for the rock as fast as she could move. “I can still get second.” She called over her shoulder.

Merrill laughed as Anders looked indecisive for a moment before he swam after her. Why? He had no idea. The fact that he couldn’t stop chasing her was exactly what kept getting him into trouble. 

The delay was long enough that Hawke beat him, but just barely. Far away from Merrill who was still watching them and laughing Hawke moved close to Anders again. “Would you be angry with me if I kissed you? Purely a consolation prize, no strings attached.”

_“Sweet Andraste, no.”_ , Anders closed his eyes. “Yes.” He managed to get out of his too tight throat. Would she hear it for the lie it was?

“Right” She sighed, “Let’s head back. We should still have enough daylight to set up a camp.”

Anders nodded and followed her as she swam back towards Merrill. “Come on Merrill, we’re heading in.”

“Oh,” Merrill looked distinctly disappointed. 

When they reached the shore Hawke climbed out first. She walked away without looking back. And for a brief, mad moment Anders was disappointed she didn’t try to see what the rest of his tattoos were. But his better judgment quickly took hold and pulled himself out of the water, slipping his coat and buckling it so he could slide off his wet smalls and pull on his trousers without exposing himself to everyone.

********

Sebastian gave Sekhmet a disapproving look when he came back down the hill, which meant he had seen at least part of her exchange with Anders. He stayed silent for a long time and she had hoped he would just let it drop. Eventually, though he wandered over to her while Merrill made their dinner.  
“I thought you’d learned you lesson where _he_ was concerned.” He was watching Anders as he spoke to her.

Sekhmet stood to speak with Sebastian, “ _His_ name is Anders, Sebastian. And we were just swimming.”

He looked at her and gave her an indulgent smile. “You think just because I’m in the Chantry I don’t understand the types of games men and women play? I wasn’t born in the Chantry, Hawke.”

She smirked, “Rumor has it you were a real wild man.”

Sebastian wasn’t smiling anymore though, “I won’t see you treated the way I used to treat women. I can’t sit by and be quiet while he...I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“Now you sound like Fenris.” She said with a bit of irritation in her voice. She was so tired of getting lectures about Anders. 

“I am sorry, Hawke, I worry for you.”

At least he apologized, and seemed genuine about his concern. He wasn’t just upset because Anders was a mage. She gave him a smile; he was a bit like the big brother she had always wished for, a bit over protective and a bit overbearing. “I know Sebastian, and I appreciate it. It’s nice to know that people watch out for me too.”

He glanced down, not meeting her eyes when he spoke. “I…care for you, Sekhmet. You’ve been very good to me.”

Sekhmet wondered for a moment if Sebastian making some sort of confession but quickly pushed the thought from her mind. She wasn’t exactly the type of woman that someone like Sebastian would be interested in. “I care for you too, Sebastian.” She gave him a smile then sat back down, picking up one of her daggers to inspect it for sharpness. 

Sebastian gave a small sigh, “Please, be careful.” He turned and left her with her daggers.

As the evening wore on to night Merrill and Sebastian both turned in. Sekhmet stood and walked closer to Anders and sat down.

Anders instantly looked wary. “I’m tired, Hawke.”

“You never sleep Anders; did you think I didn’t notice?”

Anders sighed, “It doesn’t mean that I’m not tired.”

“I just want to talk. I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

“Alright.” He didn’t look convinced at all.

“What is life like in the Wardens?”

He looked at her surprised.

“I condemned Bethany to that life, I need to know, how bad is it?”

“It’s a hard life, but a lot of how bad it is depends on who is with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first became a Warden, the people who were Wardens with me were all pretty decent people.” A small smile touched his lips, “Sareyna tried to make it a home for all of us, a safe sanctuary where your demons didn’t matter.”

“You cared for her.”

He nodded, “Yes, very much.”

Her voice was quiet. “You miss her.”

********

Anders canted his head, “I do, but not for the reason you’re thinking. She’s my sister-in-law.” Maybe it would have been easier to let her think that he was pining for his former Commander. But Anders found it difficult to lie to her. Even small lies, like the one in the water earlier were a strain. 

“Wait, your sister-in-law is The Hero of Ferelden?”

“Yes, my brother was a Warden too.”

“The Bastard Prince is your brother?” She asked, incredulously.

He closed his eyes and tried not to be frustrated. He should have been more careful. “Half brother and I really don’t want to talk about that.”

She watched him for a few moments, clearly trying to decide whether or not to push him. Eventually, she gave a faint nod, acquiescing. “That must have made being a Warden easier, having your family there.”

He shrugged, “I had just met them, but the Wardens can be a family of sorts.”

“And what about when it’s not?”

His expression darkened. “There are things I can’t tell you. The Wardens have secrets.”

“So I’ve heard, but obviously something changed in the Wardens for you.”

Anders sighed, “When Sareyna and Alistair left the Wardens, Sareyna appointed another Ferelden Warden, Nathaniel, as the Commander. There’s a big complicated story about what happened, but basically the Wardens in Weisshapt didn’t like the idea of Nathaniel ruling the Arling. So they sent a new Warden Commander from Orlais and Lieutenant from Ansburg, though he had been stationed in Antiva. Things went very wrong, very quickly, at least for me.”

He sighed heavily and spoke again, “My big mouth got me on her bad side quickly. She took a Templar into our ranks and he followed me everywhere. It was like a constant taunt, I was free of the Circle, but not free of the Templars. A reminder that I wasn’t free, that I never would be. Rolan hated mages and made no secret of it. I was worried more than once that he might kill me and call it an accident or tell the Wardens I had become an abomination.” 

He closed his eyes, “She made me get rid of Pounce, I almost left then but Justice convinced me to stay a bit longer. We were still eradicating small pockets of Darkspawn left over from the Blight.” He paused for a second, “When we were done, that’s when Justice and I…then I came here. You know the rest.”

She touched his sleeve lightly, “I’m sorry you went through all of that, Anders.”

He didn’t respond for several seconds. “Stroud is a good man; he was the Lieutenant in Ferelden. He’ll try to keep an eye on Bethany. Don’t worry.”

Hawke sat back a little and sighed, “I hope so.”

“What about you? What happened in Lothering that you never talk about it?”

She gave him a sad little smile, “I know I sound like a hypocrite, but I’m not ready to talk about that yet.” A brief pause, “I’m not sure I ever will be, to be honest.”

He nodded once, “I can understand that.”

She raised a brow, “Really, you’re not going to press it?”

“We all have our secrets, Hawke. Now, you should really get some sleep.”

“I’ll sleep when you do.”

Anders sighed and stood up, “You really are stubborn, you know?”

Hawke stood, “I’ve been told a time or two before.”

Anders disappeared into his tent. “Good night.”

“I expect you to actually try to sleep.”

A muffled grunt was all she heard as she headed back to her own tent.

********

“So, why are we all out here again?”

She was kind of glad Fenris had asked the question. The two of them had been tiptoeing around each other since the Fade. She knew he wanted to apologize, but she wasn’t sure what it would accomplish. She wasn’t angry at him. She just felt that sense of loss and loneliness every time she thought about it.

So, she tried not to scowl when she responded. “We’re spending time together as a group, talking, sparring and what not so that we learn to work together better. It will make things easier for us if we understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses.”

“Seems to me if you can fight properly it shouldn’t matter,” Fenris snarked.

She gave him a small smile, she had gotten used to this Fenris. This one liked to push her buttons. “I guess we’ll see. Want to spar me first?”

He eyed her suspiciously and rightfully so; she planned on putting him down hard. He rose to his feet and walked over to her, extending his hand to help her to her feet. A smile flickered across her lip lightning fast, she grabbed his hand with both of hers, pulling as she kicked out with her feet and rolled to the side.

Fenris landed hard only able to try to catch himself with one hand. He jerked free of her and jumped to his feet. “That wasn’t very sporting.”

Jumping to her feet amidst laughter from their companions she made an exaggerated bow. “Hello, I’m a Hawke, notorious rogue, scoundrel and miscreant, have we met?”

Fenris narrowed his gaze and pulled his sword free, Sekhmet pulled her daggers loose and they started sparring in earnest. Fenris became frustrated, although he was ridiculously fast for a man carrying a sword as tall as he was, he was still no match for Sekhmet’s speed.

Mostly, by the time his sword reached where she had been a moment ago she was already gone. Sekhmet didn’t taunt Fenris, she let her blades and her feet do the talking. About fifteen minutes in Fenris changed tactics and surprised her completely.

He started swinging his sword towards her and when she spun away from it and towards his left side, he stopped mid swing and jerked to the left. He barreled into her with his shoulder and knocked her clean off her feet. Dazed from the impact she couldn’t recover before he was holding his sword at her throat.

She laughed, “That was good, great, I didn’t see it coming.”

Fenris smiled, his coy boyish smile, the one that said he meant it. He held out his hand and Sekhmet let him pull her to his feet. She knew then, that the two of them would be alright. Not that all was forgotten, but that they would both find their way past what had happened, on their own.

She clapped him soundly on the back as she turned to the others who were sitting and watching. “Who’s next, now that he’s warmed up?”

“You want me to go again?”

She nodded, “Till someone beats you.”

“If that’s the case you could have beat me a half dozen times.”

She gave a small shrug, “I was just warming you up.” When none of the group volunteered she turned to Fenris, “Who do you want to spar?”

He barely paused, “Anders.”

Anders stood and walked over to them, his staff still strapped to his back. “You sure, elf?”

Fenris sneered at him. “I was trained against mages like you.”

A small smile ghosted over Anders’ lips. “There are no mages like me.” He unstrapped his staff and handed it to Sekhmet. “Hold this for me for a second.”

“Anders?”

“I’ll be fine.” He peeled off his coat and handed it to her as well. Anders wore just a thin tunic and light leather breeches under his coat. Everyone got to see what Sekhmet already knew, Anders was in fantastic shape, not just for a mage, but for a man. He put his hand out for his staff and Sekhmet handed it back to him.

Fenris’ gaze flickered over Anders’ newly revealed form for a moment.

“See something you like, elf?”

Fenris growled and pulled his sword free again, “Showing off is going to get you killed, mage.”

Anders cracked his neck, “Oh, I think not.” He spun the staff around him a few times, stretching a little. “Ready?”

Fenris nodded and the next thing everyone knew he was flat on his back in the dirt. Anders stood over him, legs parted and bent a little at the knees and his staff in his left hand, resting against the back of his arm. Fenris blinked a couple of times before getting to his feet and Sekhmet moved farther away to watch the two of them.

Fenris picked up his sword and stared at Anders for a moment looking confused. Sekhmet could understand, she had no idea what had just happened. Looking around at everyone else, it seemed to be the general consensus.

Anders looked deadly serious now, no jokes, or barbs, not even a smile at Fenris’ expense; his eyes were fixed on Fenris. Fenris drew back his sword and as he started to swing it Anders cracked his staff along Fenris’ hand lightning fast before using the other end to jab at his ribs and swung around to the back of Fenris’ neck jerking him forward.

With Fenris stumbling forward off balance he brought his knee up into Fenris’ solar plexus before shoving him roughly to the ground. Fenris hit the ground with a loud groan. He lay there for a moment, motionless and Sekhmet hurried over to him.

Anders waived her off, “He’s fine, I just winded him.” He knelt down to Fenris, “Ready to yield, or do you want to go again?”

Fenris took in a shaky breath and started to stand up. Anders stood and took a step backwards giving Fenris plenty of room. The elf took several deep breaths before he looked back to Anders, “I’m ready.”

Anders stood still and waited for Fenris to start moving. He saw Fenris start to faze and he quickly jabbed him hard in the chest with his staff causing Fenris to gasp and his lyrium ghost effect to sputter out. Anders followed it through with a swift kick to his chin, Fenris reeled backwards half dazed. 

Anders grabbed for Fenris’ sword with one hand while he kicked out again this time connecting with Fenris’ knee. Fenris cried out in surprise and crumpled to the ground. Anders stood watching him for a moment, Fenris’ sword over one shoulder and his staff held loosely in the other hand.

Sekhmet watched stunned. She had no idea that Anders could fight like that, everyone was very still and very quiet. 

Anders finally broke the silence. “I think he yields.” He dropped Fenris’ sword next to him and turned to Merrill, “Deal with that for me, will you?”

Merrill scrambled to her feet and over to Fenris. She had started healing him before she had even reached the ground. Fenris raised his arm and covered his face as the healing energy moved into him. Reassured that Fenris would be taken care of Sekhmet went after Anders who had wandered to the edge of the clearing.

She touched his shoulder gently when she reached him. “Hey.”

Anders sighed, “Sorry, that was…uncalled for.”

Sekhmet shrugged, “You were sparring, and you won. Between you and me, I think he needed it.”

Anders gave a short nod. “I think a part of me was punishing him.”

She scowled at him, confused.

“I saw what happened in the Fade, how it hurt you.” He shook his head and gave her a rueful smile, “As if I have any right to punish anyone for hurting you, after all the things I’ve done.”

“Or maybe you just really don’t like him.” She smirked at him.

He chuckled, “Maybe you’re right, I really do detest the little bastard.”

Satisfied by his answer she changed the subject, “So, uh where did you learn to fight like that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“In the Wardens some of it from an assassin, and some of it from a dwarf that came from the Legion of the Dead, the rest from my Commander.” 

“How come you never use it?”

“I don’t need to. As long as I have mana or lyrium, I cast.” He shrugged, “It’s for emergencies only.” Pursing his lips he frowned a little. “He was right, I was showing off.”

“I thought it was amazing, I might have you teach me some of it.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’ll have much use for staff fighting.”

“No, the leg work you did. I do have legs, in case you didn’t notice. I’m not that damned short!” When she got no response she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the group. Fenris was sitting on a log looking agitated, but was blessedly silent. “So Anders, who do you want to spar next.”

“Can I just say ‘Good job, Blondie’ and get a pass? That looked painful.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “I don’t think that works.”

“Then you should spar him.” Varric retorted.

Sekhmet shook her head, “Not on your life that looked painful.” She grinned at Varric who harrumphed at her.

Isabela stood and dusted off her backside. “I’d love to spar with you, Anders.” She walked up and traced a nail across his shoulder. “You can even cast a spell on me if you like.” Her grin was almost feral.

Anders shook his head but walked back to the part of the clearing they were using for sparring. Isabela strutted over as well, pulling her blades free on the way. Anders twirled his staff easily as they circled each other. He was much gentler with her than he had been with Fenris and it took him a lot longer but he did finally manage to knock her off her feet.

“Now that’s what I call foreplay.” She purred as he helped her to her feet. “I’d ask to go again, but it seems like everyone wants a piece of you today.” She turned to the group who were all on their feet now except for Fenris. “If you ever want to go again, I’m game. That was fun.” Isabela strode back towards the group. “Watch those long legs of his, they’re wicked.” She was grinning like a Cheshire cat as she sat on the ground and started stretching her sore muscles a bit.

Aveline was already standing in front of Anders, shield ready by the time Isabela sat down. Anders took a deep breath, “Give me a second, I need a drink.”

Aveline nodded excitement clear in her eyes. “I can be patient; it’s been a long time since I came up against something new.”

Sekhmet met Anders half way and handed him the waterskin. 

“You’re going to make me spar them all aren’t you?”

“Only if you keep beating them.”

“Izzy was tough.”

Sekhmet snorted, “You were being nice.”

“I didn’t need to hurt her.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Go play nice then.”

Sekhmet went back and watched as Anders took all the rest of them down as well, never using magic once until there was only Merrill left. Merrill was excited to spar with Anders but Anders was exhausted. 

“Merrill, I don’t think I can.”

“Oh Anders, please. I’ve never sparred with anyone before, it looks like great fun.”

Anders sighed, “Fine, but I need to use magic before we spar.”

Sekhmet giggled, “No one said you couldn’t use magic, that was your own doing.”

“Right.” He quickly cast a minor heal on himself followed by a rejuvenation spell. With a look of determination he nodded to Merrill, “Come on then, let’s do this.”

Merrill lasted longer than anyone; she countered Anders with her magic. She used glyphs and shields to slow him so she could move or to deflect his blows. It was clear she had never really sparred before because she wasn’t casting anything offensive, she was so preoccupied with defending herself against Anders.

Finally, getting frustrated he growled at her, “You have to hit me, Merrill.”

Merrill’s eyes went wide for a moment, “Oh, right, sorry.”

A pulse of light shot out from her staff and hit Anders who staggered a bit. He shook his head then bounced on the balls of his feet a few times. “Alright, now we’re talking. Come on Merrill; show me what you’re made of.”

Anders, seemingly reinvigorated by Merrill finally fighting back, came back at the girl furiously. She blocked his blows from the staff, cast a hasty shield, and ducked when he kicked out at her. For some reason Merrill seemed terrified of Anders’ legs.

Sekhmet wasn’t sure why Merrill wasn’t casting something bigger, maybe freeze Anders in place or something. Perhaps she was just afraid to hurt Anders. They all watched as Anders backed her up against a boulder. Merrill looked like a rabbit caught in a trap and Sekhmet realized a minute too late what she was about to do.

Merrill pulled her knife free and cut her wrist, an entangle spell quickly weaving around her. The spell was cut abruptly short as Justice took over and gripped her around the throat slamming her hard against the rock. She let out a strangled cry as her body impacted the stone.

Sekhmet raced across the clearing and grabbed Justice’s arm. “Stop, they were just sparring. You’re in no danger Justice.”

He didn’t let Merrill go, “She will not use blood magic on us. Not ever.”

Sekhmet tugged on his arm again. “I understand, never. Let her go please. She didn’t know, it was a mistake, please Justice.”

His fingers unwound and he straightened up. Sekhmet rushed to Merrill to make sure she was okay as Anders came back to himself. Merrill slid to the ground in tears, “I didn’t mean it.”

Sekhmet knelt beside her and rubbed her shoulders, “I know, but you can’t use blood magic on us. Not any of us.”

Merrill continued to sob, “I know, I’m so sorry.”

Anders had turned and left, heading back to the rest of the group.

“Listen, I can spar with you in the future if you want to get used to it.”

Merrill shook her head. “No, I’ll just watch from now on.” Her body shuddered a bit, “I thought it would be fun, but I was scared of him.”

Sekhmet shook her head. “Why were you so scared of him? You knew he wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“I dunno, cause he hates me?” Merrill wiped her face and stood up. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Shh, stop it. You made a mistake is all and Anders doesn’t hate you.”

Taking a shaky breath Merrill nodded, “He does, but it’s alright. Let’s go back. I’m fine now.”

Sekhmet followed Merrill back to the group where they had just finished building a fire. Merrill sat down next to Isabela and stared into the fire. Isabela wrapped an arm around the elf’s shoulder’s consoling her. 

Sekhmet walked over to where Anders was sitting a little away from the rest of the group. “Are you alright?”

Anders gave a stiff nod, “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Hawke, I swear.”

“I know, I told her she couldn’t use blood magic on us. She was just afraid is all.”

“I knew it too, I could see it. I shouldn’t have pushed her.”

“It’s kind of the point of sparring, is to push each other.”

“Not like that, she was terrified. I may not like her, but that wasn’t right.”

“Let’s just forget about it. It’s been a long day, come over by the fire, be sociable for once.”

Anders stood up with her and they walked back to the fire before settling comfortably on the ground. 

“So when are you sparring him, Hawke?”

Sekhmet smiled at Varric, “Maybe tomorrow, it’s dark, besides I’m sure he’s tired.”

Anders shook his head. “Come on, I’ll spar with you. We can see alright with the fire light and it’s not completely dark yet.”

Sekhmet stood up muttering and walked over to the clearing. 

Anders jumped to his feet and followed her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She laughed quietly, “Do you have any idea how sexy you are whipping that staff around and handing everyone their asses on a platter?”

Anders shuffled a little. “Uh, no.”

“More is the pity. Come on Sexy, pin me.” She flashed him her half smile and drew her daggers giving them a little spin. This was going to be fun.

Anders came at her with the staff, whirling it fast and keeping her away, he backed her up until her back hit a tree. Grinning she snaked out her dagger and hooked it around his staff stopping it and pulling it towards her. Surprised, Anders took an involuntary step forward.

Sekhmet flicked her dagger a little and placed a small rip in his tunic. She slipped away as he stepped backwards. “By the time I pin you Anders, I’m going to have you naked.” Her voice was quiet, just loud enough so he could hear her but no one else.

Anders lost his rhythm with the staff and Sekhmet took advantage, flicking her dagger out again and snagging the fabric at his shoulder, she even nicked him a little drawing blood. She was gone again just as fast, her laughter trailing behind her. “Come and get me.”

Anders took a deep breath, and followed her. He kept his movements smaller, more controlled. Continually changing directions he was able to keep her on her toes. He used his staff and pushed it sharply against her as she held her daggers in front of her and pinned her against a tree.

As he stood there pinning her she smiled. “With you panting like that and pinning me I can almost imagine you in my bed.”

“Are you sure? It took six people to get me this winded, seven if you count yourself.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “Oh, promises, promises Anders.”

She saw his face change, saw him realize he had been flirting again and he jerked away quickly taking several long steps away from her. She came at him, moving blazing fast and he fumbled backwards, stumbling a little when his legs hit something. He found himself pinned against the same boulder he had pinned Merrill against earlier. Sekhmet climbed up onto it a little, her dagger at his neck as she loomed over him.

She dipped low, only a hairs breadth from his face. “I wonder what you taste like, Anders.” She drew out his name, her voice a little breathy.

She went abruptly sprawling backwards on the ground when he pulled up his leg, planted his foot against her middle and shoved. Laying there for a moment dazed she giggled and stood up. “Ok, I can take a hint…for now.” She gave him a wink and a bow, “I yield ser.”

Anders shook his head and walked back to the fire muttering, “I don’t know who is worse, you or Izzy.”

********

Hawke stretched and sat down between Anders and Varric, “Well that was certainly entertaining. Tomorrow we should spar in pairs, not all sit around watching Anders put us all in our place.”

Anders had actually enjoyed himself for the most part. With the notable exception of Justice popping in when Merrill had tried to use blood magic on him. The girl obviously needed a little guidance where battle was concerned. Maybe he could help her, “I want to work with Merrill tomorrow.”

Merrill paled at his suggestion.

He tried to soothe her fears, “Don’t worry; I’m not going to spar with you. I want to show you how to combine some of those spells so they’re more useful.”

“Oh, alright.” But she didn’t sound very reassured.

Hawke looked around at the group and announced, “Let’s do like with like tomorrow, Varric and Sebastian, Fenris and Aveline, and Izzy and me. We should trade secrets; catch each other’s strong points and weak points. Sound good?”

“Good a place as any to start.” Varric pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and began unstrapping a knife from his forearm.

Aveline furrowed her brow when he pushed up his other sleeve, “How many of those do you have on you?”

Varric shrugged, “A bunch.”

Anders shook his head. “It’s a rogue thing. I bet even Sebastian has at least half a dozen blades on him.”

Aveline turned to Sebastian, “Really?”

Sebastian looked decidedly uncomfortable, “I, uh, carry a few knives.”

Anders couldn’t help himself, he was honestly curious. “Let’s see it, which one of you four is carrying the most.”

Sekhmet scowled at Anders.

He rolled his eyes at her annoyance. “Ah, I forgot, it’s supposed to be a big secret.”

“Now I’m curious.” Aveline was studying Sebastian carefully.

Sekhmet let out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” She started with the daggers strapped to her back, setting them in front of her before moving her armor to reveal a knife strapped to her calf. She pulled it loose along with another on her opposite leg before pushing up her sleeves.

Sebastian made a small exasperated sound and started pulling knives free as well, quickly followed by both Isabela and Varric. The group watched with growing awe as small piles were amassed in front of each of the rogues.

Hawke paused briefly, “What about stilettos?”

He chuckled, “Those too, Hawke.”

She made a face and slid free two stilettos built into her lower armor, the wrist guards were curved like the shape of her upper thigh and the silver looked just like an embellishment until she slipped them out. There were two more on her upper arms.

Laying them down she held up her hands, “There, I’m clean, that’s all of them, two daggers, four stilettos, four knives and three throwing knives.”

“Me too. “ Izzy glanced at Hawke’s pile, “I would like to point out that I have a lot fewer places to hide things than she does.”

Hawke chuckled as did Varric. Then the group only had Sebastian to watch, as he was still pulling blades free. Honestly, Anders would have put his money on Isabela, barely clad or not.

“You don’t even use blades.” Hawke exclaimed.

“I used to.” His voice was hesitant like he didn’t want to talk about it. “Most of them are throwing knives.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re a walking armory, Sebastian.” Aveline was starting to look uneasy.

Hawke was smiling deviously, “Are you any good with those throwing knives?” 

Sebastian looked up and grinned at her as he slipped another knife free of his chest piece. “As good as I am with the arrows.”

“I’m not too bad myself, if I do say so.”

Sebastian nodded at her, “I know, I’ve seen you.”

Izzy was watching them both intently, “You should have a contest.”

Hawke smirked, “What about it, Brother, want to give it a try?”

“As long as you lose gracefully.”

“Ho, ho, strong words from the Choir boy.” Varric laughed.

“Tomorrow then, after breakfast.” Hawke pressed.

“It’s a date, and Hawke, you’re going to lose.”

Sekhmet laughed, “Isn’t pride a sin?”

“It isn’t pride, just the truth.” But he was smiling; seemed Sebastian could have fun after all.

********

The next morning Sekhmet stood at the edge of the clearing trying to be gracious. Sebastian was right, she was going to lose. He made her look like she had never touched a set of throwing knives before and to add insult to injury he made it look damned easy.

No matter how far back they moved he threw his knives easily and hit the leaf that they had tacked to a tree as a target dead on every time. He was all grace and clean lines like he was born throwing knives. He hadn’t even broken a sweat and the further back they moved the more she wanted to wipe that smirk from his face.

“I think he’s got you Hawke.”

“Gee, Varric, whatever gave you that idea?”

“How about the fact that he hits the target first time, every time and you…don’t,” Now Varric was smirking too.

Sekhmet sighed, it bordered on a pout, “Alright, Sebastian, I concede.” She shook her head and finally smiled, “Really, you’re amazing with those things.”

Seb slipped the knife in his hand back into his belt. “When my parents had cut me off and I was a betting man, I made my living with these.”

“Does that mean you can do this drunk too?”

Sebastian smiled sheepishly, “Yeah.”

Sekhmet snorted, “Alright, now I hate you.”

“I did warn you.”

She waived him off as she wandered back to the rest of the group, “Yeah, yeah.” She looked up as she neared the fire, “Sorry Izzy, but I’m going to have to beat you senseless. Sebastian beat me and my ego is feeling a bit bruised.”

“Great,” Isabela grumbled.

“First, I’m taking a nap. I am exhausted, half of you jerks snore.” She flopped onto her bedroll and closed her eyes a small smile still on her lips. She was having too much fun and wondered briefly how long she could play out in the woods before they dragged her back to the city.


	36. What's With The Broody Porcupine?

Sekhmet was anxious, a slow gnawing deep in her gut. Her mother was sitting in the library doing a cross stitch, Sekhmet smiled seeing her. Her mother looked every inch a Kirkwall noble. And for just a moment Sekhmet envied her mother’s ease in such a noble setting. She herself still felt like an imposter inside the large estate.

She settled herself next to her mother and enjoyed her mother’s soft smile. In a moment it would likely be gone. “Mother?” She prompted gently.

Her mother’s smile deepened. “So you’re here for a favor then?”

“Of a sort, yes. It’s about something of papa’s. Anders has been using this cracked and damaged staff for years and while we were out on the coast it splintered even further. I was thinking about giving him papa’s staff.” She waited for her mother to erupt, to yell at her or something.

Leandra sighed, “Is that why you invited him to dinner this evening?”

Sekhmet looked away; her mother looked so disappointed it was hard to look at her. “Partially.”

“And how do you think a prospective husband is going to feel about you giving your father’s things away to another man?” Her mother asked quietly.

Not this again, she had really hoped her mother had given on all this marriage business. “I have no plans of marrying anyone while I’m in love with another man. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“He’s a damned fool. It’s been nearly four years, how long are you planning on waiting for him, Sekhmet?” Leandra’s tone started sharp but softened to sadness at the end.

Sekhmet took her mother’s hands in her own. “As long as it takes.”

Her mother shook her head, “Sometimes I swear you’re touched, girl.” She sighed, “Very well, give the staff to your handsome mage.”

She kissed her mother softly on the cheek, “Thank you.” She went to retrieve the staff and clean it up a bit after its years of disuse. 

Anders arrived a few hours later looking decidedly uneasy. Sekhmet was as nice and accommodating as she could be. She didn’t want Anders to leave before she had given him the staff. And she knew her mother would be upset if he left before dinner, especially since she had worked so hard on it all day.

Her mother was sweet and charming all throughout dinner and though Anders still looked awkward and nervous he was sweet and charming with her as well. As for Sekhmet, she and Anders didn’t talk much to each other but dinner was still fairly enjoyable. And with dessert Anders finally relaxed, small smiles and even a few chuckles peppered their very safe conversation.

As the evening wore down Sekhmet excused herself from the table and asked Anders to join her. All the tension immediately returned but he stood and followed her nonetheless. She ushered him into the library and shut the door behind them. 

“I have a present for you.” She started as he turned and looked at her, worry creasing his brow.

“What is all of this about, Hawke? First dinner and now presents?” He was watching her warily.

She smiled a little, he was always so suspicious. “I invited you to dinner, because I can’t trust you to eat on your own. And I have a gift for you because…well because we’re friends. And…maybe I do have an ulterior motive.” She walked to the corner where she had set the staff earlier.

Anders sighed heavily. “Hawke, you can’t give me…” he stopped when he saw the staff in her hand. “What is that?”

She laid it in his hands, “This is your new staff.”

Instead of a smile as she had hoped for, he scowled, “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a present, Anders. Stop asking so many questions and just say thank you.” 

He slid his hand along the golden length and touched the curved arch at the top, studied the sculpture of a woman, his brow furrowing. “This is a very powerful staff. And that is a rather unique design. So, I’m asking again, where did you get it?”

She rubbed her forehead, the man could be so damned stubborn. “It belonged to my father.”

His head jerked up sharply, “I…I can’t take this.”

“Yes, you can. Please, it’s just been sitting around not being used at all. And your staff is broken and can’t even channel energy right anymore. I can feel it when you cast.” 

Anders closed his eyes, clearly frustrated. “Hawke.”

“No, stop it. Just take the damned thing Anders.” She turned and left the room battling frustration and anger. The man made her want to tear her hair out half the time. He’d rather keep using that broken nearly useless staff than the perfectly serviceable and powerful, by his own admission, one she had given him.

He followed her, of course. “Hawke, I’m sorry. Thank you.”

She smiled at him, “Now that’s more like it.”

“Only for now though. I’m going to have my own made with the enchantments I would like. And when I do, I’ll be returning this one.” 

By the set of his shoulders she decided not to argue with him. “Fine, if that will make you happy. You might want to talk to Master Ilen about a new staff. I spoke to him about the possibility before and he seemed quite interested in helping. And I’m sure Sandal would be more than happy to help with the enchantments.”

He nodded faintly. “Thank you, I will. It’s getting late, I should really get going.”

She nodded, “Thanks for coming.”

A long pause from Anders, “Thank you for the invite, and thank your mother for dinner, it was delicious.” He turned and left the estate, her father’s staff in hand.

********

They had always suspected that Danarius would return for Fenris at some point. Even Anders, who couldn’t stand the elf, could see what an asset he was. He was skilled in fighting to begin with and the talents his lyrium tattoos lent him made him all the more impressive.

The four of them had been heading to check on the workers at The Bone Pit; Anders still thought it was a terrible name for a mine. They were doing a favor for Hawke’s partner when they were ambushed. Slavers and mages both blocked their path. 

When they had called for Hawke to return Fenris to them Anders had mixed feelings. He was personally against slavery, but Fenris and he were far from friends. Fenris was not shy about hating mages and thinking they should all be locked up or worse. Add to that the fact that Hawke spent so much time soothing his bruised ego and it wasn’t hard to want him gone. 

Knowing that jealousy was at least a small factor in wanting to get rid of Fenris he kept his own mouth shut and left the decision up to Hawke. Anders knew all too well she would never turn the elf over. He watched as Hawke’s face contorted in rage when they called Fenris a slave.

“Fenris is a free man!” She screamed back at them.

“I won’t repeat myself, step away from the slave now.”

Fenris suddenly glowed a bright blue, “I am not your slave.” The tendons on his neck stood out as he snarled then drew his weapon. The battle was short and brutal; reflecting the elf’s obvious rage over being tracked down once again. Anders concentrated on healing while Fenris and Hawke dealt with those closest to them. Varric and his crossbow, Bianca, took out the slavers on the cliff above them.

As they put away their weapons Fenris noticed one of the mages was still moving. He pounced on him quickly, “Where is he?”

The mage was pathetic, “Please don’t kill me.” He whimpered. 

Anders almost felt sorry for the mage, there was no way Fenris would let him live.

Fenris smashed his face angrily into the ground, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know I swear.” His words came out all in a rush. “Hadriana brought us. She’s at the holding caves north of the city. I can show you the way.” The man sounded almost hopeful.

Fenris sneered, “No need. I know which ones you speak of.”

The mage sagged, already knowing his fate, “Then let me go. I beg you. I swear I won’t”

Fenris cut him off, “You chose the wrong master.” He grabbed the man’s head and twisted it, easily snapping his neck. 

Anders shuddered at the sound and Varric looked a little pale as well, but Hawke didn’t seem to be fazed by it at all. Not for the first time Anders wondered what kind of life she had left that none of the gory things they saw seemed to ever bother her. Anders had spent a year fighting Darkspawn and he still was bothered by some of the things they saw and did when they travelled together.

Fenris stood, his whole posture rigid, “Hadriana,” the word came out sounding like a curse. He turned back to them, his face a mask of anger and hate, “I was a fool to think I was free. They’ll never let me be.”

Hawke was calm; she had long ago become accustomed to Fenris’ mood swings. “This is someone you know?”

Fenris’ anger seemed to dissipate a little in the face of Hawke’s calmness, though he was still clearly bitter. “My old master’s apprentice, I remember her well, a sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius. If she’s here, it’s at his bidding. I knew he wouldn’t let this go.” He worked himself back up and was nearly shouting at the end.

“Then why are we standing around?”

Anders sighed; hunting down a magister was not exactly how he had planned on spending his day. He couldn’t fault her though, Hawke responded with the same eagerness to help when any of their companions came to her with a problem.

“The holding caves held slaves in the old times, but apparently they are no longer abandoned.” Fenris got a gleam in his eye as he continued, his voice almost manic sounding, “We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare…or flee.”

It took them a couple of hours to reach the holding caves and just before they entered Fenris stopped them. He seemed calm now, at least, and that was a good sign. He wasn’t nearly as good a fighter when he was agitated. “We must be careful. There were many such holdings once, especially in the mountains where individual slavers kept private pens. They were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it’s why Hadriana chose this place.”

Hawke was clearly surprised, “Do slavers attack each other often?”

Fenris gave a brief nod, “They did. What better way to find slaves than to steal them?” He sighed, looking a little tired, “The holdings outside of Tevinter have mostly been abandoned, but they still exist.”

“Hadriana won’t escape us.”

“Let’s hope this isn’t a waste of time.” They stepped into the cave and when they were only a few feet in Fenris paused, “They’re still here, good.”

Anders wasn’t sure how Fenris could possibly know that but he was on his guard nonetheless. They walked down the hall and into a room with a blood soaked table in the middle of it. The blood was still fresh.

“See for yourself, the legacy of the magisters.” Fenris’ voice was nearly a growl behind them.

Anders stomach turned, and he barely managed not to gag. “Blood magic.”

Fenris glared at Anders as if he had been the one performing blood magic, “In a society where mages rule, they find many ways to justify their need for power.” 

As much as Anders wanted to tell him where to shove it he kept his mouth shut. Anders hated blood magic as much as anyone and he had good reason to. But his reasons were not for people like Fenris to know, the elf probably wouldn’t care, would likely still accuse Anders of being capable of it. As they left the room they were attacked and Anders focused on the task at hand, swallowing his anger at the single minded and often quite dense elf. 

A few chambers in they heard a woman’s voice calling for help. As they entered they found a young elf surrounded by slavers. The four of them managed to kill the slavers quickly and to save the slave from whatever they had planned for her. 

As they approached her Fenris looked her over quickly, “Are you hurt?” His voice dropped and became a tad cold, “Did they touch you?”

Anders looked at Fenris speculatively. Had he been abused? Or had it been someone he cared about? Clearly, the idea affected him very deeply.

The elf girl was beside herself, she couldn’t understand what was going on. All she knew was that suddenly Hadriana had started killing people including her father. Anders couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty, would the slavers and Hadriana have killed so many people if they hadn’t known that the four of them were coming? Was it their fault that all these people were dead?

Fenris apparently felt something similar, as the elf explained that Hadriana was afraid for her life and so needed power he hung his head in apparent shame. Anders was surprised the elf could feel remorse. It seemed all he could feel was bitterness and anger.

“I don’t understand, we tried to be good.” The elf woman, barely more than a girl if Anders was to guess, looked so confused.

Only Hawke seemed to have the presence of mind to get to the heart of the matter. “Is the magister still here?”

The elf girl nodded, “I think so. She said they were to prepare for battle, I think she’s very frightened.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed a little, “She has every reason to be.”

The young girl was so afraid of Hadriana that she begged Fenris not to hurt her. 

Hawke looked surprised. “You’re just a slave to them, property to be used.”

The elf girl shook her head in denial, “Everything was fine until today.”

Fenris let out a heavy sigh and bowed his head, “It wasn’t, you just didn’t know any better.”

The girl suddenly looked eager, “Are you my master now?”

Fenris recoiled at the idea, “No.” he practically yelled at the poor girl.

She was on the verge of tears from his outburst. “But…I can cook. I can clean. What else will I do?”

Hawke took a small step forward shifting the girl’s attention to her. “If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you.”

The girl looked immediately relieved, “Yes? Oh praise the Maker, thank you.” She took off running out of the caves.

Fenris whipped around to glare at Hawke, seething, he hissed at her, “I didn’t realize you were in the market for a slave.”

Hawke didn’t back down but glared and snarled right back, “Since when does telling someone you can help mean you’re looking for a slave? I gave her a damn job, Fenris.”

Fenris seemed to almost shrink at little at her angry declaration, “Ah, then…” he looked away from her, unable to hold her gaze, “that’s good. My apologies.”

Anders shook his head in amazement, an actual apology, wonders never ceased. He still couldn’t fathom why Hawke put up with the elf. He was good, yes, but Anders wasn’t sure the aggravation was worth it. 

Fenris turned and started to leave the room, “Let’s find Hadriana and be done with this place.” 

When they found Hadriana a few minutes later Anders stepped back away from Fenris. Had he thought he had seen the elf angry before? Fenris glowed bright like a torch and his lips were twisted into a feral snarl at the sight of the magister. His whole body seemed strung tight like a bow string as they engaged her and the remaining slavers in battle.

With Fenris’ rage the slavers were all dead in a few brief minutes. Fenris stalked towards Hadriana like the wolf he was named for stalked his prey. And Anders supposed that was exactly what the woman was, now that the tables were turned, Fenris had the power and Hadriana was at his mercy. Not that Anders believed the man had any.

Hadriana lay sprawled on the floor and as Fenris raised his sword Hadriana gave a desperate shout, “Stop! You do not want me dead.”

Fenris almost smiled, “There is only one person I want dead more.”

As she cowered from him she quickly continued, “I have information, elf, and I will trade it in return for my life.”

Fenris scoffed at her, “The location of Danarius? What good will that do me? I’d rather he lose his pet pupil.”

Against the wall and unable to retreat further she tried again, “You have a sister. She is alive.”

Fenris froze, clearly surprised, slowly he lowered his sword. Hadriana took the chance to sit up and continued quickly.

“You wish to redeem your life. Let me go, and I will tell you where she is.”

Fenris flicked his gaze to Hawke who gave a small nod, “This is your call.”

Fenris walked over to Hadriana and bent down close to her.

“I have your word?” She asked hesitantly.

Fenris gave a short nod, “Yes, you have my word.”

Anders was shocked; he couldn’t believe Fenris was just going to let this woman go after they had chased her all the way to the cave and slaughtered everything in sight on their way to her.

Hadriana’s voice held a slight tremble as she spoke, “Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus serving a magister by the name of Ahriman.”

Fenris pulled back from her a fraction, “A servant, not a slave.”

Hadriana nodded, “She’s not a slave.”

Fenris suddenly began to glow as he spoke, “I believe you.”

Anders shook his head; he should have known the beast wouldn’t be able to keep his word. He watched as Fenris reached into Hadriana’s chest and squeezed. She let out a pained gasp, her face contorted in agony but she was unable to scream. She slipped almost silently to the floor.

Fenris spun away from her and didn’t meet any of their eyes, instead he growled, “We are done here,” and began to stride past them.

Hawke turned to watch him, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Even Anders was shocked at the vitriol with which he rounded on her, “No, I don’t want to talk about it. This could be a trap. Denarius could have sent Hadriana here to tell me about this ‘sister’. Even if he didn’t, trying to find her would still be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadriana knows.” 

His face twisted into that feral snarl again as he continued his tirade. “But all that matters is I finally got to crush this bitch’s heart. May she rot and all the other mages with her.”

Anders was angry, not only for Fenris wishing all mages to rot, but because Fenris didn’t even notice how Hawke blanched at his words. And Anders couldn’t keep holding his tongue. “And here I thought you were unreasonable…”

Hawke’s words were barely above a whisper when she spoke, “This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t look for your sister.”

Anders shook his head; she was still trying to placate the elf, even after what he had said about mages. Anders couldn’t even be surprised when Fenris rounded on her again.

“What else should it mean? Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her.” His voice became louder and louder as he carried on. “What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil?” It suddenly seemed as if Fenris realized that he was upsetting Hawke, he bowed his head and covered his face. “I…need to go.” With that he left the cave, disappearing before they could find him.

Hawke looked ashen and sick to her stomach. As they left the cave Anders offered to walk her home. She gave him a small smile but didn’t respond, so he took that as a yes and stayed close to her as they returned to Kirkwall and headed towards Hightown. 

Finally, Anders could take the long silence no more. He needed to say something,“Don’t let him upset you so much. He’s so busy calling everyone else monsters he doesn’t even realize he’s become one himself.”

She shook her head, “He’s been through so much.”

Anders scowled, “Which one of us hasn’t, yet he’s the only one who acts like a complete ass.”

“You’re too hard on him.”

“Why, because I expect him to have a little decency, a little common sense? I don’t think that’s expecting too much.” He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. “He says mages should rot, knowing full well your sister is a mage, that your father was a mage and then asks you what magic has touched that it hasn’t spoiled? Every part of your life, as far as I know, has been touched by magic; does that mean he thinks it has spoiled you as well, that it has ruined your whole life? Why do you defend him, or even stay friends with him?”

She touched his hand gently, “Because he needs a friend.”

“If he wasn’t such a colossal prick he’d have friends. Some people aren’t worth wasting your time on.”

“And if I listened to you, I wouldn’t spend any time with you either. How many times have you told me not to waste my time on you?” She rubbed her thumb over the back of his fingers, “You’re worth it Anders. And in his own way, Fenris is too.”

Anders felt jealousy claw at him again but ignored it, a small part of him realized that his jealousy where Hawke was concerned was less than rational. “He’s so selfish Hawke, I hate to see you throw so much of yourself at him and get nothing in return.”

A small smile touched her purple lips, “My mother says the same thing about you.”

Anders grimaced, Leandra wasn’t completely wrong, Hawke gave him more than anyone ever had, and what exactly had he given her in return? He gave a short nod, “Alright. No more arguing.”

They walked the rest of the way to her estate in companionable silence. She had slid her hood down and the moon shone on her white hair. It still fascinated him. She had pulled off her gauntlets and her pale skin looked almost luminous in the moonlight. Every so often his hand would brush against hers and he didn’t know if was on accident or on purpose, but he felt oddly comforted each time he felt her skin touch his.

“How do you manage to stay so pale when we are outside so much?” He looked over his own tanned skin.

She shrugged, “I stay covered when the sun is out. I burn really easily so my choices are stay covered and pale or uncovered and red. Red is not a particularly good color on me.”

“Were you born with the white hair?”

Hawke laughed, “You know people always stare, but they almost never ask. Actually, I _was_ born with white hair. Apparently, it happens every generation or so in my mother’s family. I just happened to be the lucky one this time around.”

“It suits you.”

She quirked a brow, “Are you trying to tell me I look old?”

“No, you’re just unusual.”

“I don’t think so. I’m just a girl who wants to make things better for her family, any way she can. Seems common enough to me.” Her steps slowed a little as they neared her estate.

“I never really took you for being naïve; do you really have no idea how extraordinary you are?” He asked with a small smile. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

She stopped at her door and leaned back against it, hand poised on the latch. “I’m not naïve; I’m an idealist who fell in love with an apostate.”

Anders felt his heart lurch in his chest. That was certainly not where he expected this conversation to go. He knew he was staring, even knew his mouth was open in surprise, but he couldn’t get his mind to work enough to stop himself from doing either of them.

She didn’t wait for him to respond; she unlatched the door and pushed it open. Anders was about to follow her in. She couldn’t just say that to him then walk away, but he saw Fenris sitting on a bench in her foyer. Anders stopped and turned to leave; Hawke reached out and gripped his wrist.

“Please, stay.” Her eyes were a touch sad, like she already knew what his answer would be.

He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he couldn’t stay not when Fenris was waiting for her. He only hoped the warrior had calmed down and wouldn’t upset her again. He gestured to Fenris, “You have other things to attend to. Maybe another time.” With that he slipped away before she could protest further because he really, really wanted to stay.

********

Fenris stood when she walked into the room but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana.” He paused and took a fortifying breath before he looked at her, “I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was…not myself. I’m sorry.”

She tried to keep her voice even. She really did believe what she had told Anders. Fenris needed a friend. “There’s no need to apologize.”

Fenris studied her for a moment, looking unsure. “You are generous.” He took a deep breath. “When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment.” He turned away from her, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond,” his voice was regaining a little venom, “and she knew it.”

He turned back to her, his feral snarl back in place and she had to force herself not to take a step away from him. Not that she was afraid of him exactly; she just liked her heart right where it was. _“Why are so many of my friends capable of killing me?”_

“The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now…I couldn’t let her go.” He seemed to deflate again. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

His swinging moods were dizzying sometimes. “What do you mean?”

“This hate…I thought I’d gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside of me…it was too much to bear.” He turned from her and headed towards the door. “But I didn’t come here to burden you further.”

Sekhmet felt a knot in her chest; it hurt to see him in this kind of pain. She knew more than her fair share about about letting the darkness swallow you. She had to reach out to him, offer him some kind of life line if she could. Fenris, for all his faults was one of the few decent people she knew. “We’re friends, Fenris.”

He paused for only a moment, not bothering to turn around, before he headed for the door again, “I’m not certain I know what that is.”

Sekhmet thought for a moment about going after him, but honestly she wasn’t sure she could do much for him. She still felt a bit emotionally raw herself, dealing with not one, but two emotional onslaughts from Fenris and making herself vulnerable by admitting her feelings to Anders. Right now all she wanted was to go upstairs and take a nice long bath.

********

It had all changed after Hadriana. Anders was afraid to be too close to Hawke after her confession and so avoided her as much as he could. Fenris became Hawke’s constant companion, Anders never saw her without the elf lurking about. He felt his heart breaking each time the elf smiled at her, or touched her. 

And what had Anders expected, he had rebuffed her advances for years, and when she had gotten the courage up to not just flirt with him but to actually confess her feelings he had hidden from her. He had spent weeks trying hard not to think about what he couldn’t, shouldn’t have. And he made sure to carefully avoid any mention of that confession. He just pretended it didn’t happen. Did he really expect her to stay single forever?

Hawke and Fenris weren’t affectionate together in public, and Anders was at least grateful for that small mercy. Fenris still lived in his abandoned mansion, but Anders felt the change in the two of them. She smiled more often around Fenris and his utter devotion to her was clear to anyone who saw them together. Anders wanted to ask her about them, or maybe confront her, he wasn’t sure which. All he knew was that it hurt to see them together.

Surely, there were better choices for her than an elf that hated mages. It was why he, himself, was taking it so badly, wasn’t it? That she had tied herself to someone who hated mages, to someone who could never understand her struggle to help her sister?

He could never decide whether he preferred being with her or avoiding her. Each was its own torment. _“It’s better this way.”_ He told himself so many times that the words had become nothing but meaningless sounds to his ears. He often followed it up with a miserable, _“Better for whom?”_

He had to stop himself from acting like a jealous lover whenever the three of them were someplace together. Fenris stood just a little too close to Hawke and touched her arm just one too many times. Anders had made himself bleed one day when he had to actually bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything. And he was still finding broken glass in the clinic from when the idea of the two of them together had become too much for him to bear.

Hawke still flirted with Anders and gave him those sly little smiles and it made him feel crazy. He wanted to beg her to leave him alone, or to never leave his side. He spent nights wishing he had never met her, or that she was there with him, and other nights wishing he was still the same man he used to be. No woman would ever have been able to affect that Anders like this.

He was a mad jealous thing, and though Hawke seemed oblivious the others noticed. 

“Just set him on fire and get it over with.”

Anders closed his eyes, “Please Izzy, not now.”

“Why do you come here? All you do is glare at him all night, you never drink and you barely speak to her or anyone else for that matter.”

“Why do you care what I do?”

“I…I don’t.” She mumbled quietly.

Anders turned to look at her. “Isabela?”

“What?”

“What is all that about?”

“Nothing, I just don’t know why you torture yourself.” She gave him a defiant look. She glanced over to where Varric, Hawke and Fenris were sitting and talking. Sliding her gaze back to Anders she gave him a too slick smile. “I could help you relieve some of that tension if you’d like.”

Anders sighed, as least some things never changed. “Sorry Izzy, not in a sporting mood.”

“I can see that, you’re pouting.”

“I’m…”

“I don’t know why you don’t just go over there, grab her and kiss her senseless.”

Anders chuckled at the image. “I doubt she’d appreciate it.”

“I don’t know. Most girls like to be swept off their feet. She’s not that different. Not to mention she’s an incredibly good kisser.”

Anders arched a brow, his curiosity almost getting the better of him before he shrugged noncommittally. “Someone beat me to the punch.”

She gave him a speculative look. “Did they?”

“Looks that way.”

She gave him a cat like smile. “Looks can be deceiving.” With that she strolled over to the table where their three companions sat. She leaned down and whispered in Fenris’ ear and he smiled. He stood, wrapped his arm around Isabela’s waist and the two of them left the tavern.

“Well, that’s…interesting.” How had he missed that? 

Varric looked up spotted him and waived him over. Anders was about to decline when Hawke turned and saw him. She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. Anders tried to smile back as he stood to join them.

_“I feel like I live on a teeter totter.”_ He thought to himself, _“I’m up, I’m down, I’m up, I’m down.”_ He sat down between Varric and Hawke where Fenris had been seated. “Hey guys.”

Hawke turned to Varric and smiled, “Wow, he’s actually talking to us.”

Varric grinned, “Must be the voices in his head weren’t amusing him enough this evening.”

“He even smiled.”

Varric shrugged, still grinning, “Maybe his glower is worn out.”

She laughed and touched Anders’ hand. “It’s good to see you smile. I thought you might have forgotten how.”

Anders carefully moved his hand away from her touch. “I did, thankfully I finally remembered.”

“I haven’t seen that much of you lately, other than you sitting in the corner by yourself.”

“Oh.” Anders didn’t realize she had known he was there.

She giggled, “I made sure to bathe today. Varric said I might have been scaring you away.”

Varric laughed, “I did not.”

“Well you should have. See, I take a bath and he finally comes over. What kind of friend doesn’t even tell you when you need to bathe?”

“Maybe you should start asking, like Isabela.” Varric smirked.

“Maybe I should.”

Anders found himself grinning. He had missed nights with the three of them sitting around talking. They were one of the few times when he felt normal and comfortable. 

“You know Hawke, it could have just been that elf full of ‘mage be gone’ you’ve been dragging all over Kirkwall with you.”

Hawke looked at Varric and rolled her eyes. “I know. It’s like he’s afraid to leave me alone. If it wasn’t for Isabela I don’t think I would ever get any time to myself. I wake up every day afraid to see that he’s started camping out on my front step. He’ll work through it in time, I’m sure.”

Anders quirked a brow, “Work through what?”

“Through feeling like he owes me. Apparently, helping him with Hadriana surprised him. Not to mention it seems to be his way of apologizing for the nasty things he implied about my family, considering they’re mages.”

“I think he’s just lonely.” Varric chimed in.

Hawke nodded, “Me too. He’s never even really had a friend.”

“He’s been following you around because you’re friends with him?” Anders couldn’t keep the incredulity or irritation out of his voice.

Hawke shrugged. “I guess.”

“Huh”

Varric smiled, “I told you Blondie thought you two were lovers.”

“I didn’t…” Varric raised his eyebrow at Anders and Anders quieted back down. “Ok, maybe I did think you were lovers.”

Flashing him her little smirk Hawke stood, “Nah, I haven’t given up yet.” She kissed Anders’ cheek and headed to the bar to order more drinks.

Anders touched his cheek, it felt hot. He was blushing, and just how exactly was that possible? 

Varric laughed, “I think you’ll cave before she does.”

Anders felt himself smile, “I’m beginning to think you might be right.” He pushed his chair back a bit. “I should go.” 

Hawke set down a mug in front of him. “Sit, I’ll behave.”

_“What if I don’t want you too?”_ Anders felt a flush of heat rush through him at the thought. He watched her as she sat down, and couldn’t make himself get up to leave, even though he knew he should. “Okay.” He managed at last.

And she did, she was just Hawke for the rest of the night, feisty, funny, beautiful Hawke. And it was both enough and not nearly enough. He caught her staring at him a few times and wondered if it was as hard for her to play at friends as it was for him, especially now that her confession hung between them. Part of him wanted very much to hear her say it again.

He controlled himself though, enjoying their company instead. The days since her confession had been very lonely for Anders. A little humor and company was exactly what he needed. Varric’s easy camaraderie was a blessing Anders sometimes forgot to appreciate. And Hawke’s own kindness and smiles never strayed from what would be considered friendly. 

When Varric caught her yawning he kicked them both out. “Blondie, be a good little mage and take the nice woman home.”

She scowled at him. “I can get home by myself Varric.”

“I’ll take you. I don’t mind.”

She watched him for a moment. “If you’re sure.”

_“Not even close.”_ But he smiled and stood. “If you fall asleep, I’m not carrying you.”

“See that Varric, can’t even get the man to take advantage of me when I’m drunk and passed out. He’s hopeless.” She grinned at the dwarf who returned the smile.

She stood and followed him out of the tavern. The walk to her place was quiet, no bandits, no gangs, and no conversation. When they reached her door he had deliberately stayed back several steps. She turned back to look at him before she went inside.

“Thank you Anders.” She fiddled with her sleeve. “I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable. I’ll try to stop.”

“Please don’t.” Anders’ voice was quiet, he wasn’t sure he had even spoken until she replied.

“Don’t what?”

He closed his eyes; he had no idea, _“Don’t stop teasing me? Don’t tease me? Don’t feel sorry?”_ He really had no idea. “Good night, Hawke.” With that he turned and practically fled down the street.


	37. Let In The Light

Anders was bent over his desk making a few notes of patients he had seen for the day. Nothing formal, just a few things he might need to remember if they came back to see him again. There were a lot of people in Darktown and not even he could always keep all his patients straight.

He felt a hand settle on his shoulder and took a deep breath, “Hawke”.

Her hand slid off his shoulder as she stood next to him, “What’s going on, Anders?”

“Just notes, did you need something?” He looked behind her and saw Fenris and Varric both standing there.

She nodded and took a step back giving him room to stand. As soon as he stood she stepped closer again, Anders closed his eyes briefly hiding his annoyance. She always had to be right on top of him, always too close. This close he could smell the leather of her armor and the oil that clung to her well cared for weapons, could smell the indefinable something wild she always smelled of.

He opened his eyes and deliberately stepped backwards needing to put some distance between them, being so close to her made it hard to think. As it was as soon as he saw her he remembered her confession. Hawke loved him, or at least thought she did. And for a man who had grown up in the Circle it was a heady thing to know someone loved you. 

His gaze flicked to Fenris and Varric again, both had moved towards the doors of the clinic, abandoning him to Hawke’s not so tender mercies. His eyes moved back to her, “What can I do for you?”

She reached for him again; “You could stop…” she quieted abruptly when he grabbed her wrist.

“Stop it,” he snapped out a bit more harshly then he intended, but perhaps it was better that way. Only a few fragile threads remained of the rope that held him in check, that kept him from being foolish and selfish and claiming her for his own. He wasn’t sure he could take her touch anymore, not without wanting more, without pressing her for everything.

She blinked at him owlishly for a moment. “Stop what, Anders?”

“You don’t touch anyone else like this, and I need you to stop it.” He didn’t release his grip on her arm; he was too busy trying not to pull her against him.

Her gaze drifted down to the floor and her voice became quiet. “You know why I don’t touch them.”

Anders steeled himself; this had to stop now before things went too far. Each bit of familiarity, each fond gaze he returned, each smile she wrested from him was dangerous, for both of them. Even now he wanted to beg her to confess to him again. Wanted so desperately to hear her actually say she loved him. 

Damn her, they’d found a way to be friends. They had been good at it and it had been easy, comfortable. And now she’d ruined it. His voice rose a little, “We’re business associates, Hawke, nothing else. Understand? You need to stop being so familiar with your touches and keep your hands to yourself.”

He felt metal bite painfully into his shoulder, “The same could be said of you, mage. You’re awful handsy with the lady lately, perhaps you should unhand her.”

Anders let go of Hawke’s arm but the metal gauntlet digging into the flesh of his shoulder did not release its grip. “Call off your _dog_ , Hawke.” He ground out.

“Fenris, let him go.” Hawke’s voice was still quiet but her glare seemed to be enough of a warning to Fenris.

Fenris’ voice dropped low, “I’m not sure where you got the idea that you can constantly manhandle Hawke, yanking her around by her arm like you do, but it stops now.” Fenris released Anders’ shoulder and strolled slowly back to the door.

Anders was quiet for a moment as he thought over Fenris’ words and was appalled to realize they were true, he often grabbed Sekhmet, grabbed Hawke when he was upset with her. She riled him in a way not many ever had, but it was no excuse for him grabbing her like that. It wasn’t like she ever threatened anything but his sanity.

“Are you alright, Anders?” Hawke was still very quiet and her eyes were back on the floor.

He gave a curt nod, disgusted with himself and that it had taken that mongrel Fenris to point out something he should have realized on his own. “Perhaps you should go.”

Hawke nodded, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m going to need you for a few days. Will it be alright to leave tomorrow?”

His temper was flaring again, what was wrong with her, not meeting his eyes and that voice, so quiet and unlike her. “Stop acting like you’re afraid of me.”

Hawke scowled, and finally looked up at him. “I’m not afraid of you, Anders. I just don’t want to get into an argument. I’m always nice to you aren’t I? Why are you so angry at me all the time?” She looked a bit sad.

He watched her as she spoke, those ridiculously painted lips enticing him to throw caution to the wind. Anders swallowed hard, “I’m not angry, I’m frustrated.”

She immediately smirked, “I could help with that.”

Anders groaned, “See what I mean? It has to stop, Hawke. We do business together. I have no intention of there being anything else between us, so just stop it, no more touches or caresses. No more expecting me to drop everything on the spot for you. Treat me like you would Varric or Fenris.”

Hawke watched him quietly as he spoke then nodded; when she spoke her voice was more business-like, her tone less intimate, less friendly. “Alright, Anders no more. When would be good for you to leave the clinic for a few days?”

“What’s going on?”

“There’s something up with the Carta. They attacked me in Hightown and attacked Bethany at the Warden Compound in Ansberg. She will be here this evening. Varric found out they're holed up in the Vimmark Mountains and I want to go investigate. It’s rare for them to be so reckless.”

Anders was only half listening to her; he was already struggling with himself, hating her sudden businesslike attitude. But it was what he had wanted, or at least what he claimed to have wanted. He nodded when she was done. “I can be ready by tomorrow.”

“Are you sure? We can postpone a bit if you need more time.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll meet you and Bethany at the Hanged Man to get Varric in the morning.”

Hawke nodded and turned stiffly towards the door walking across the clinic brusquely. As she marched out of the door he collapsed into his chair. He stared after her for long minutes before he turned back to the paperwork he had been working on when she first had come in. After scratching out a few more sentences he shoved the papers away from himself, it was pointless. He would get no more done today.

He moved into his small room in the back and pulled out some yarn and the socks he had been meaning to darn for a while. If they were going to be trekking in the mountains he wanted to make sure he had fresh socks without holes. Once he had finished that he polished his boots, looking at the worn and thinning soles he wondered if he could afford a cobbler, they would need to be repaired before long.

He pulled a few stray feathers from his coat and sighed, even it was looking more than a little threadbare. It wouldn’t be long before he would need to say good bye to the thing for good. It had served him well, being worn pretty much every day for nearly four years. But the heavy fabric and light weight leather that had been dyed so carefully to the peacock green that he loved was faded and no longer came completely clean and the feathers that had been so startling white when it had been made were a ragged looking grey.

The time would come, not too long from now when he would need to pull out his other coat. The one he hadn’t felt worthy of wearing since leaving the Wardens. How could you run away from the Wardens and think yourself worthy of wearing Archdemon hide after all. Opening a crate on the floor he rummaged to the bottom and pulled out a set of leather trousers. They were a deep maroon color, nearly black and beautifully crafted. 

He smiled as he remembered how well they fit and wondered if they would fit him half as well now. He hadn’t dared to wear them since he had come to Kirkwall; they were a part of his past along with the long coat he had hidden when he had reached these shores. Running his fingers over the supple hide he sighed and sank down onto his cot. Sometimes he really missed being a Warden. Wade had been a bloody genius with armor.

He debated for a moment about taking them with him tomorrow but quickly dismissed the idea and buried them at the bottom of the crate again. His everyday wear would still do for now. Packing his gear he set it aside.

********

As they made their way to the Vimmark Mountains they had stopped to sleep on the Coast. Anders, as usual, was having trouble sleeping and had heard Hawke make her way away from the camp. When she still hadn’t returned hours later he went after her to make sure she was alright. Or, at least that was the story he was telling himself as he went in search of her.

When he found her his breath caught. She was standing on the beach, eyes looking at the stars, bare legs bluish in the moonlight. The tunic she wore stopped a good five or six inches below her backside. Her long white hair was down, fluttering lightly in the breeze, and her arms wrapped around herself for warmth. He wondered briefly what her pale blue eyes looked like in the moonlight.

He made a dozen excuses why he was staying, watching her. She didn’t need a guard, Tyr was sitting at her feet, his eyes fixed on Anders. He had expected the dog to bark or come bounding to him but he just sat there quietly watching Anders watching her. What to make of that, he had no idea.

But her, she was bewitching. He could scarcely pull his eyes from her. She swayed gently in the breeze humming softly. He should head back to the camp. If she turned even slightly she would notice him, and all too soon she would likely feel his gaze on her and turn to see who was staring so intently at her. Yet, he remained rooted. 

This was the second time they had come to the coast and he had stood, enraptured at the sight of her. Apparently, the coast infected him with some kind of lunacy. And just what was she doing staring out over the water?

“I wondered if you were still mooning over my sister.”

Anders jumped at the sound of Bethany’s voice and the girl giggled. He really shouldn’t call her a girl, not anymore. He’d seen the change in her when they’d met up at the Hanged Man. Her eyes showed more wisdom. And an anger she couldn’t hide when she looked at her sister. 

The worst though had been the threads of darkness he had seen. And Hawke had seen them too, obviously. Sadness swept over all her features when she looked at Bethany now. 

“You hardly ever mention her when you write, and when you do it’s all so dispassionate, unlike everything else you write.”

“I heard her come out here hours ago, and when she didn’t return I thought something might be wrong.” He whispered, not wanting to snag Hawke’s attention.

“You’re a terrible liar, Anders. If something was wrong we would have heard Tyr barking.” She smiled a little, “I’m heading back, are you coming? Or are you going to stay here?”

He turned and headed back to camp. Bethany catching him was bad enough. He didn’t need to tempt fate anymore than that. Bethany walked beside him, silent until they reached the tents.

She smiled again, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Good night, Anders.” Without waiting for a reply she vanished back into her tent.

Inside of his own tent Anders pulled out a few pages of parchment and a piece of charcoal. 

********

The Carta had been less than subtle in their welcome. They screamed to each other announcing Sekhmet’s arrival. It made her a trifle uneasy, for being part of a criminal organization they didn’t seem to have the best grasp of subtlety.

Finally, one of their number stopped and waited for them. Sekhmet glanced to Bethany who just shrugged. She could relate, she had no idea what to make of it either. 

The dwarf’s eyes were milky as if covered with cataracts. “You…both sisters, you’re here together. You’ve come.”

Bethany stepped closer to her, “They really were after the two of us.”

Sekhmet scowled at her sister, who the Void did she think they were after? “Well considering they broke into the estate for me and tracked you down inside the Warden’s Keep, I’d say that was a safe bet.”

Anders was suddenly beside her, “Wait, they broke into your house?” 

She turned to look at him, worry creasing his brow. “Yes, I told you that.”

“No, you said they attacked you in Hightown. You should have told me they were in your house.” His tone was accusatory.

Right, just business partners. She wanted to shake him and scream at him that he clearly cared for her too but she didn’t want to fight with him here. “What does it matter? We’re here and we’re going to take care of it.”

“I just…” he took a deep breath. “I just don’t like the idea that they can get at you, it worries me.”

When this was all over with she and Anders were going to sit down and hash things out between them once and for all. She wasn’t going to let him play these push and pull games anymore. First he wants to be friends but flirts with her. Then he tells her they’re just in business together, but he’s worried about the Carta getting into the estate. 

Was it stupid or naïve to think of that as sweet? Maybe he was just worried about would help him with the Mage Underground jobs if she was gone? Maybe she would drive herself crazy trying to figure out why Anders ever did or said anything. Her thoughts were interrupted by the dwarf standing before them still.

He turned to look at the other dwarves behind him and shouted, “Everyone, it’s the children of Malcolm Hawke, they’ve come to us.”

She didn’t like that; just the mention of her father’s name set her on edge. “What does my father have to do with this?” 

The dwarf’s cloudy eyes fixed on her again, “It began with him and ends with you. Blood for blood, that’s what we were told.”

Her sister inhaled sharply beside her, “Did father do something to the Carta?”

The dwarf shifted his gaze to Bethany, “You’ve come to us now and that’s the only thing that matters.”

“No, it really isn’t. What did my father have to do with any of this?” She snapped at the dwarf. Attacking her and Bethany was one thing, but to drag her father into it was quite another.

“We must have the blood,” he shifted from one foot to the other looking agitated. “You don’t understand.”

She snorted, did they think she was just going to give them some of her blood or let them touch Bethany? “Oh, blood. Why didn’t you just ask?”

Two other dwarves started walking up the steps towards them at the first narrowed his gaze at her, “We will take it. Corypheus will walk in the sun once more.”

She slipped her daggers free with a smile, this she understood, this she could do. 

********

Anders watched as Hawke pushed open the door, and for once there was nothing behind it, no Carta dwarves, no walking corpses, no Darkspawn, nothing. Well, almost nothing. There was a small table covered in candles to provide light and several cots.

He let the lightning recede from his fingertips and followed her inside, Bethany and Varric both coming in behind him. As Hawke looked around she gave him a small smile, “Maybe we should stop here; get some rest before we’re sleeping on the ground again for Maker knows how long.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bethany crossed the small space to the cot that was pushed up against the back wall. She dropped her pack and sat on the cot immediately pulling off her boots. “We sleep on the ground almost more often than a bed in the Wardens, so I never pass up an opportunity to get off the ground.” Her gaze was on Anders and he felt his skin crawl a little. Bethany had been decidedly cold to him since he had met up with them at the Hanged Man and though she seemed to be warming up any reminder of the Wardens brought about a return of the ice.

Hawke nodded, not bothering to comment and dropped her pack onto the cot next to where she stood. “We should have someone standing guard. Just because we killed everything we saw doesn’t mean its safe.”

Anders looked around quickly before his gaze settled on Hawke, he spoke before she could open her mouth. “I’ll take watch; you need to get sleep first. How long has it been since you slept?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine.”

“Bodahn says you haven’t even touched your bed in three days. And you didn’t sleep on the way out here. We’re going to be facing Maker knows what, and we need to know we can count on you. Now get some sleep.”

“Anders, I said I was fine.”

Stubborn, it was the only word for her, she was so damn stubborn. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you said, you need some sleep. Or am I going to have to put you to sleep again?”

Gritting her teeth she glared at Anders, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Bethany suddenly perked up, “Wait, he put Sekhmet to sleep before? What did I miss?”

Anders saw Varric shake his head out of the corner of his eye. His voice was quiet but easy enough for them all to hear. “Don’t worry about it Sunshine. That’s between Blondie and Hawke, best not to get involved, trust me.” With that he turned around and sat his pack on the floor. 

Hawke held Anders’ gaze for another moment, but he could almost feel her crumbling. 

“If I sleep, will you sleep?”

He nodded, unable to argue with her, he was as guilty as she was. “I’ll sleep when you wake up.”

She sighed heavily then started un-strapping her bedroll from her pack. She set it on the cot before working to remove her boots. Anders kept watching her as she sat on the cot and pulled out a crust of bread and some cheese. She caught Anders watching her and smirked.

“Am I allowed to eat first, or am I to be sent to bed with no supper for misbehaving.”

Anders bit back a response and just nodded, it was safer that way.

********

Anders heard a light chuckle and looked up to see Bethany smiling at him. “Does she know you watch her sleep?”

Anders furrowed his brow, “I was just checking on her.”

“Ah, is that what you call it? You settled on the floor next to her cot and have been watching her for the last five minutes. What were you checking that took such close scrutiny?”

Anders sighed, “Nothing,” he turned away and began to stand up.

Bethany’s voice dropped. “You forget, I know you’re in love with her. I’ll leave you alone. But sooner or later she’s going to figure it out.”

Anders scowled and was about to ask her what she meant when Bethany cut him off.

“I won’t tell her. I already agreed to that. I just wish you would. You should…” She sighed, “Nevermind, forget I said anything.” She looked him over for a moment before speaking again. “So, how did you end up with papa’s staff?”

He touched the metal lying next to him on the floor, “I guess your sister got tired of me using the broken one and gave it to me.” He looked up at her again, “but I’ll be returning it as soon as I have my own made.”

She shrugged, “I don’t really care, I won’t ever use it which means it won’t get used at all if you’re not using it.”

He looked at her, surprised, “Why wouldn’t you use it?”

She gave a little shrug, “He had it when he died. It would be the only thing I could think about.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He murmured, not sure what else to say.

She smiled at him, a sweet smile reminiscent of the girl she had been before the Deep Roads, “Seems fitting, didn’t I tell you that you remind me of him?” 

He gave her a small smile in return, “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As it was meant…or maybe I was just calling you old.” With that she rolled over onto her other side facing away from him and Hawke, snickering.

He couldn’t help a little chuckle of his own.

A few hours later Varric groaned and sat up rubbing his lower back. “I think sleeping on the ground would have been better.”

“I doubt it. Besides, I think it has more to do with the odd position you contorted yourself into.”

Varric shook his head, “The shit I do for that woman.”

Anders could completely relate. He smirked at Varric, “Why did we agree to do this again?”

The dwarf raised a brow, “Because I love trouble and you’re not so secretly in love with Hawke. That wasn’t a serious question was it, Blondie?”

Anders turned to look at Hawke, but she was still sleeping thankfully. 

Varric chuckled, “Yeah, she’s pretty much the only one who doesn’t know.”

“That’s not funny, Varric.” 

Varric nodded, “You’re right, it’s sad and pointless.” He stood up and gestured to the cot. “Get some sleep, I’m up now.”

He looked to Hawke again, peaceful in slumber at least. Slowly, he pushed to his feet and moved to the cot. Perhaps a few hours of sleep were a good idea. He suddenly felt very tired. 

He jerked awake what felt like moments later, roused from sleep by a shout quickly cut off. His eyes scanned around the room. Hawke was awake, looking as if she’d been pulled unexpectedly from sleep as well. But it was Bethany; hand clutched in a fist against her chest and breathing hard that really grabbed his attention.

She smiled sheepishly at them, “Sorry folks, Darkspawn dreams, you know the usual.”

“Are you alright, Beth?” Hawke’s voice was quiet and her face drawn, clearly she didn’t like the idea of her little sister suffering from nightmares of Darkspawn.

Bethany shrugged, “Comes with being a Warden. Are we all rested now? Let’s get going.”

Anders swung his legs over the edge of the cot. He wouldn’t get back to sleep, not with the tension between the two sisters. Quickly he ran his fingers through his hair and pulled it back and out of the way. 

Varric watched him with an amused smile. Hawke stood and stretched before attending to her own hair. She picked up her sheaths and strapped them to her back, her eyes flicking to Bethany, who was still sitting with her knees pulled up on the cot.

“Did you see them, my Lady Sunshine? The two of them sprang up almost in unison, funniest damn thing.” Varric chuckled as he held out his hand for Bethany to help her up.

Her eyes finally softened as she stood, “No, but it doesn’t surprise me.” She grinned mischievously at Varric and murmured something Anders couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it must have been good, the dwarf laughed and nodded.

Hawke looked to Anders and shrugged before smiling herself. “Ready to go?”

He nodded, “Whenever you are.” 

********

They’d been on the move for hours, finding odd writings regarding Corypheus, and about something called a Key that was supposedly tuned to her father’s blood. And poor Varric, still looked haunted after having killed Gerav. The apparently brilliant bastard who’d crafted Bianca. 

Sekhmet was still reeling over that one. Gerav, clearly meant something to Varric, yet he hadn’t hesitated at all when Gerav had threatened her, even when she’d offered to spare his life. And she’d seen a look of gratitude pass from Anders to Varric.

She’d been even more surprised by that, what exactly was going on with the two men? They’d both become more and more anxious as they’d travelled. At first she’d thought it was because neither one of them were big fans of being underground. 

It was Bethany that had given her the first inkling otherwise. When Varric had stood over Gerav she’d whispered into Sekhmet’s ear. “You’d best not take that lightly, with your usual jokes. He doesn’t seem the type of man to give his allegiance nonchalantly.”

So Sekhmet had paid closer attention and found that both Anders and Varric were sticking very close to her and Bethany respectively and were becoming more vicious with their attacks. At this point they weren’t even trying to see if they could spare people. The moment one of the dwarves made a move against her or Bethany they were put down, quickly and painfully.

Was it just chivalry? Or maybe it was something else. She had no name for what it was, but she felt profoundly grateful for both of them. 

As they prepared to step into a room with murmuring voices inside, Anders held her up by taking her arm gently. “Stay beside me, Hawke.”

She looked up at him, and found him staring at her intently. His eyes were over bright, and his jaw set. In other words, arguing with him was pretty much pointless. So, she nodded, aquesing to what she decided to take as a request instead of the order it had been issued as.

He relaxed marginally, “And you stay right behind us. Varric will bring up the rear.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” Varric added softly.

Bethany followed her lead and just nodded. 

They stepped through the door and surprisingly weren’t immediately attacked. A dwarf was fiddling with the kit strapped to a bronto. Up on edge above them stood several more Carta dwarves but none of them attacked either.

The four of them stopped shortly inside of the room and the dwarf with the bronto finally looked up and approached them. “Hawke, they told me you were going to be trouble.” His eyes scanned to Bethany behind her, “And look, you even brought your sister, how generous.” A slow oily smile crossed his face, “I swore to Corypheus we’d bring him Malcolm Hawke’s blood one way or the other.”

She was about to step closer to the dwarf, when she saw Anders stiffen beside her, just a little, but it was enough to remind her to stay beside him. So, she stayed where she was, “Who the fuck is this Corypheus? What does he want with my blood and what does any of this have to do with my father?”

The dwarf sneered at her, “The master wants you, I don’t ask why.”

She snorted in annoyance at him, “Corypheus wants some blood? Sure, let me just open a damned vein. And how about a kidney too?”

A wild gleam entered the dwarf’s eyes and began to shout, “Corypheus, we have done as you command. Your sacrifice is here. You will see the surface once more.”

A grate dropped over the doorway they had come through. And while she looked at the sound, Anders dragged her back a couple of steps, throwing a shield up over them as he did so. He’d pulled her out of the way of the bronto that suddenly came charging at them, and the shield went up just in time to block a hail of arrows from the dwarves above them.

She pulled her blades ready to fight. As soon as his shield dropped Varric rained a slew of arrows back at the dwarves and Bethany let out an angry cry and blasted them with fire. As for her, she was left to dodge the bronto again. Anders rolled easily out of the way, striking the dwarf they had been speaking to with lightning, making him scream inside of his armor.

As she dodged the bronto, she hobbled it. When it stumbled she quickly killed it. The beast had been trained to attack, no reason to draw out its death. When she stood Anders was looming over her.

“I thought I told you to stay beside me,” he growled at her.

Why the Void was he so angry? “I was avoiding being trampled to death.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he glared at her for another moment before he took a deep breath. “Just stay close, alright?”

She nodded, “Okay, sorry.” She said, exasperated.

“Right,” he didn’t sound like he believed her. 

Varric patted him on the back, “Relax, Blondie, we’re all fine.”

“What’s that glowing?” Bethany interrupted.

Sekhmet turned to look where she was pointing, a cool blue light was emanating from underneath the dwarf Anders had killed. She walked to him and kicked him over, onto his back. The glow seemed to be emanating from within a pouch on his belt.

“Careful Hawke, its magic, whatever it is.” Anders was standing beside her again.

She knew it was, could feel it, pulling at her, vibrating her teeth, prickling along her skin. She squatted down opening the pouch and found herself reaching to grab whatever it was even though she had meant to take a look at it first. She started to stand up when there was a silvery white flash of light that almost knocked her on her ass.

The shape of the object she held changed, making her reach out her other hand to support it. And then there was a strange warmth winding up her arms, a tingling racing through her. She tried to drop the object but wasn’t able to. “What is this?”

Her skin started splitting, like she had seen Anders’ doing dozens of times before. She was surprised it didn’t hurt at all. Light spilled forth from her, as it did from Anders a well, but this light was paler and white. 

Anders reached for her and recoiled as if he had hit some kind of invisible barrier. He stumbled back with a grunt, shaking his hands like he was in pain.

The warmth and tingling was moving faster now, the light following in its wake. She stared at the object, looking like a strange hooked blade, a large dagger of some sort. A shape that never would have fit in the pouch she had taken it from. A red colored gem in the handle seemed to glow and pulse in time with the warmth spreading though her. “I can feel it inside me.” She murmured. 

That gem was the source of the magic pushing through her. What was it doing to her? What had it done to Anders? Was this the key that was supposed to be tied to her father’s blood? It would make sense; it was clearly tied to hers.

The warmth engulfed her entire being and flashed bright for a moment and then disappeared. She felt her legs buckle, but Anders was there catching her before she fell, his strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her against him.

“Are you okay Hawke?” His magic was already swirling around her checking her over.

She nodded, as she regained her feet. “I think it was just a shock to my body. I’m alright now.”

He held her for another moment as his magic swirled around her before letting her go, slowly. “Everything seems to be alright, but what is that thing?”

Bethany walked close to her, reaching out for the key, but pulling back at the last moment, clearly thinking better of it. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Me either,” Anders spoke softly; the poor man looked like he had aged ten years in the last minute.

“This is going to take me to Corypheus. I’m pretty sure this is the key we read about.” She turned it over and looked at its worn appearance. She wondered how old it was. It seemed to be made of something similar to her father’s staff. It was the gem that caught her attention though. It seemed to be filled with some sort of liquid almost, red and shimmering. 

Was it not really a gem at all, but some kind of phylactery? The idea gave her chills. Was her father’s blood inside? Had the Carta found her the same way Templars found mages?

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright? You don’t look too good.” Anders was watching her carefully.

She decided not to think about the odd gem right now, there was still the matter of Corypheus to deal with. She put a smile on her face for Anders, “I’m fine, was just wondering where the key came from but it’s not important right now. Let’s go get those bastards.” 

She pulled a leather thong from one of her pouches and tied the key to her belt. She didn’t like touching it. It was still humming oddly with magic. She pulled her daggers free and headed down the stairs after the two dwarves she had seen disappear down there.

The other’s followed her, all of them running down the stairs quickly. When they reached the bottom she felt a spark of magic and stopped short to turn and see what it was. A pale golden barrier shimmered over the stairway.

Varric cursed beside her, “Those sons of bitches, the whole blasted thing’s sealed over.”

Sekhmet sighed, “I guess we should have seen that coming.” Now they were stuck down here until they found another way out. She could practically feel Anders humming with tension beside her. Trapped in the Deep Roads, again, how would he handle it this time?

He turned away from the stairwell and gasped, “There’s a…a whole tower down here.” He walked towards a short wall and out past it was the tower he had mentioned. He turned to look at her, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She touched his arm, trying to gauge how he was doing, but he pulled away from her scowling. For a second she thought he was upset with her. But then he pointed to a small bridge like structure.

“Darkspawn,” he sighed sounding weary. All of his favorite things all at once, today was not a good day to be Anders.

Varric shook his head, “And they wonder why I prefer the surface.”

They began slowly and carefully exploring. None of them wanted any more surprises like the barrier. They battled Darkspawn as they came across them, usually in small packs. Sekhmet was impressed with Bethany’s fighting skills. Whoever had been training her had done a superb job. She was good before, but now she was amazing, pinpoint accurate and a real force to be reckoned with. 

It wasn’t necessarily that she was more powerful, though she certainly was. It was more economy of magic she used. She was so controlled now her firepower went much further, so different from the Bethany who had left. 

And in retrospect it made Sekhmet a little sad. Bethany had become a killer as surely as Sekhmet herself was. The way she fought now wasn’t for defense, not to protect herself, but to kill.

As if he knew her thought Anders bent down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t think about it.” He stroked her back lightly, “Whatever it is, save it for later.”

With her emotions running riot she was having a hard time resisting the urge to turn into him and have him hold her. Instead, she moved to look at the odd swirling magic on one of the Warden insignias on the wall beside them. The magic was odd and muted.

She reached her hand up, just to get a better feel of it. To try to determine what it was, but she must have gotten too close. The magic popped and disappeared, and with it a voice rang out through the room.

“Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker so let it be.”

The deepest of all the scars on her battered heart ripped itself open, making her lose her breath. How…how was that possible? She felt tears threaten, but heard a second pop and looked up to see that Bethany had touched another insignia and was now very determinedly walking towards a barrier holding a shade within a cell.

Without pause her sister touched the swirling magic in the center of it, dissipating the barrier and freeing the shade. In a flash, they were surrounded by more shades. They quickly died under Bethany’s brutal assault, with help from the others of course. But Bethany was so determined, her face twisted in an unbecoming snarl as she killed them.

As the last fell that voice, that impossible and heartbreaking voice rang around the room again. “I could do nothing about the Wardens’ use of demons in this horrid place, but I will have no one say any magic of mine ever unleashed one into the world.”

Bethany looked at her, looking for validation. “Did…did that voice sound familiar to you? I could almost swear…” Her voice trailed off as if she were afraid to voice it herself.

So Sekhmet did it for her. “It sounded like papa, but how?” 

They just stood there looking at each other, each wallowing in their own pain for long moments. Neither said anything more, because there wasn’t really anything to say. Both of them missed papa terribly, each for their own reasons, of course. 

The last person that had totally and completely understood and accepted Sekhmet had been her father. He’d been her anchor, the connection not just to the rest of the family but to herself. She’d been adrift since he’d died, made even worse by her own involvement in his death. And hearing his voice again made her want to drop to her knees and beg him for forgiveness.

“Girls, we should keep moving.” Varric’s prompting was gentle.

Hawke sniffed and pushed a few loose strands of hair off her forehead trying to pull herself together. “Right, sorry. A bit of a shock was all.”

He nodded, unshouldering Bianca. “I can imagine, but we still need to find Corypeus as well as a way out of this shit hole.”

She took off at a good clip down the hall, having barely moved a half dozen meters when Anders fell into step beside her without a word. As she rounded a corner she stepped onto the bridge they had seen earlier. A man in old and clearly damaged armor, that looked like it actually had taint spreading across it like fungus, was crouching examining something on the floor not too far from where they stood.

She held up her hand for the others to stop. The man moved with odd jerky motions and didn’t look well. Both his head and his beard had strange bald patches. His skin was very lined and sallow, looking almost papery in some places.

“Be careful, he’s tainted heavily.” Anders murmured softly beside her.

The man jerked his head up as if he had heard Anders. Suddenly, he stood and moved towards them with a shambling gate. His voice was low and rumbling, hesitant like he didn’t speak much. “The key, did they find it? The dwarves, I heard them looking.” His eyes fixed on the blade at her hip, “How do you bring the key here?”

She picked up the blade, to show it to him. “You mean this?” Maybe this man, though she was hesitant to call him that especially now that she could see his eyes, could answer some questions for her. “How is this a key?”

His odd, bloodshot and slightly iridescent eyes blinked owlishly at her and his head tilted with more of those off jerky movements; almost as if he were part animal. “Magic, old magic it is, magic from the blood. It made the seals.” A long pause, “It can destroy them.”

“You mean the seal that blocked us in? We can get out with this?” 

He nodded.

Well there was some hope at least, but she still needed to find Corypheus first. And she doubted this man with his barely comprehensible thoughts had organized the Carta to hunt her down. The man could barely keep paying attention to her, the slightest noise or movement drawing his attention elsewhere. “I came in here to find Corypheus. Do you know where or what he is?”

The man’s head whipped around to look at her, obvious fear etching his ragged features. “Do not say his name. He will hear you.” His voice raised the slightest bit. “Do not wake him, not when you hold the key.”

Oh, were they going to hear more of the same old song and dance about her blood? “Let me guess,” she sighed suddenly feeling very tired; “You want to drink my blood too?”

His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to her, clearly making Anders nervous. Lighting sparked along his fingers, “No closer,” he growled.

Larius looked to him briefly and stopped, but turned his attention immediately back to Sekhmet. “Blood, the blood of the Hawke? Are you the Hawke? I smell no magic on you.” Another pause, “but you hold the key, the key to his death.” Something vaguely resembling a smile touched his lips, “Yes, I can show you out, yes.”

The longer she spoke with him the more uneasy she felt, even with Anders ready to fry him at any moment. Something more than the taint was wrong with this man. And if he was tainted as badly as he looked how was he even able to be so coherent? Shouldn’t he be a ghoul or dead by now? And he still hadn’t told her his name. “Who are you, what’s wrong with you?”

Irritation blazed in his iridescent eyes, “You ask me that? I am the one who belongs here, not you. You are no Darkspawn.”

Bethany whispered behind her, “That’s Warden armor. Where did he get that?”

Larius suddenly started looking around, craning his neck and looking behind him and to each side. “You hear it no?” He paused for just a moment to look at Bethany, before his head was back in motion searching for something. “Hear it calling? I smell it in you. I know the way out, follow me. Down and in, down and in”

Sekhmet shook her head, regardless of what was wrong with him the man was crazy. “Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted crazy people.”

Varric snickered behind her but didn’t say anything.

Larius became still though it clearly took some effort on his part. “Not crazy, no, trust me. I know the prison’s secrets. The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves, not without the key. You must use it, yes?” His eyes searched her face, “On the seals, every seal you touch the key to it, only then they open, only for the Hawke. Not back, not up, only way out is down and through the heart.” He paused and turned starting to walk away, “Down…down in the depths.”

The lightning dancing across Anders’ fingertips finally died down. “Well, that made everything much clearer.” He rolled his eyes.

She smiled and started across the bridge, forward, as the odd tainted man had said.

Bethany was walking close behind her, her voice a soft murmur. “That corruption, that’s what I was saved from.” A deep breath, “You wouldn’t have let it get that far though, you would have done anything.”

Would she have? Would she have taken Bethany’s life as Aveline had taken Wesley’s? She couldn’t say for sure, she was just thankful it hadn’t come to that. “No worries, everything is dandy now.” She’d meant it sarcastically, clearly it wasn’t alright. Bethany could barely tolerate her now.

“Oh, quite.” Beth responded, channeling their father’s wit perhaps.

Anders picked his way along, staring intently at the floor and Sekhmet wondered what was going on with him now. As shitty as their day had been so far it could be any number of things really. Her handsome mage would either talk to her or not, she wouldn’t push him, not down here.

She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw Varric trailing behind them. He flashed her an encouraging smile and she was grateful. At least one of their little band wasn’t wallowing in misery.

“I’ve tried to forget about this side of myself.” Anders’ voice was soft and so terribly sad sounding it pulled at her. “Justice is so…strong. Sometimes the Wardens seem insignificant, but seeing that poor bastard brings it all back. The Darkspawn taint, the call of the Archdemon, it’s inside me, as much a part of me as Justice.”

He stopped and turned to her, took her hand in his own and stroked the back of it softly. “Do you see now, finally? Do you see all the reasons you should find someone else? Don’t waste your…” he swallowed thickly, “time on me. You don’t want all the ugliness I would bring into your life.” Could he not even say the word?

She squeezed his hand lightly and smiled just a bit, “You don’t seem to understand, nobody’s perfect.”

Anders shook his head and let go of her hand. How could he be disappointed? Did he really think a speech could so easily change what she felt?

Varric walked up and clapped Anders on the shoulder, “I’ve got to hand it to you Blondie, you make that work everytime.”

Anders snorted and walked on ahead, disappearing through a large doorway. “Hey, come here and take a look at this guys.”

Varric headed towards the sound of Anders’ voice and Sekhmet was about to follow when she felt Bethany touch her shoulder.

“So, he knows how you feel?” She asked with something very much like pity coloring her features.

Sekhmet took a deep breath. “Yes, I…” She shook her head and chuckled at the memory. “I told him, stupid right?”

Bethany shook her head vigorously, “No, not at all. At least you had the courage to tell him. From where I’m standing, he’s the one that’s stupid.”

Sekhmet closed her eyes, feeling tears threaten, “Thank you.” It was so strange, all the feelings that rushed up and overwhelmed her. After all the rejection and ridiculousness with Anders it was a relief for someone, anyone to tell her she wasn’t being stupid and foolish.

Bethany, who had always been so free with her hugs patted her on the shoulder gently. Was there a more obvious sign of how she’d changed over the years since joining the Wardens? Taking another deep breath to compose herself she opened her eyes and did her best to smile.

“Come on ladies; let’s not wait about for more Darkspawn to show up.” Varric prodded them, teasingly.

They joined Anders and found him staring at the ghostly image of a pride demon. The demon seemed to be standing in the center of some sort of slightly raised circular dais. And on the circumference of the dais were four pillars, topped with what looked to be some sort of metalwork lamps or something.

Varric canted his head, walking slowly around it. “What is it?” 

“I haven’t a clue, but there’s magic rolling off the thing, powerful magic.” Anders looked to Sekhmet, “What do you think?”

The magic was heavy, not just powerful like Anders had said, but it felt weighty, like a great stone pressing down on the whole of the room. It also felt mostly unformed, raw magic just waiting…for something.

She looked to the barely raised dais, and saw there were carvings in the stone. They looked like channels, possibly for water? She moved closer to take a look at one and realized the magic was stronger at the channels. And not just that, but the dais was depressed, like a funnel heading towards the middle. The very center was round on top, but underneath it was tapered, like a stopper.

She looked up at Anders, “I think those channels might have been used to pour lyrium in.”

He squatted down and looked them over. “Oh, I see, under the middle there, right? Do you think this is one of those seals that man told us about?”

She nodded and was about to step onto the dais for a closer look when Anders snapped at her. “What are you doing? We don’t even know what this thing is.” 

“Well then, why don’t you get that little lightning spell of yours ready and watch my back?” She smirked at him, trying to get him to relax.

And he did, just the faintest bit. “Darling, there isn’t anything little about my lightning spell.” 

She giggled, “That’s what I like to hear.” And with that she stepped onto the dais only to be knocked immediately backwards. Apparently, her touch had released some of the magic, and the demon it had been holding. She didn’t fall, but stumbled back a few steps.

The demon teleported every few moments as the others attacked it so Sekhmet decided to stay where she was. She had no desire to go chasing a pride demon around like a lunatic when it could just teleport away before she even hit it. It didn’t take the others long to kill it. It was either a weak pride demon or was drained from standing trapped there for Maker knew how long.

With its death the four odd pillars lit up with magic, a different kind of energy humming in each of the metalwork pieces. And although it was all benign energy there was a darker energy with a tang flowing beneath them in the dais itself. That energy she recognized all too clearly.

She was about to say something to Anders about it when the man they had met on the bridge came scurrying into the room. She nodded to him as he came to a halt in front of her looking dazedly at the dais. He just stood there staring without saying a word.

“So, let me guess, the first seal?” 

He finally turned to face her, “Two thousand years the magic holds, never broken.” A small step towards her, halted by Anders moving to her side again. “Give it the key, let it take the magic back to itself, absorb it, all who came before.”

They needed to get out of there. As she watched Anders he was squirming ever so slightly. Bethany spent enough time in the Deep Roads as it was. And though Varric was smiling and teasing she knew how much he hated the Deep Roads. So she would do what needed to be done. She turned towards the dais only to have Anders touch her shoulder gently, making her pause. At least he hadn’t grabbed her arm this time.

“Be careful Hawke, the seal was definitely created with blood magic.” 

She nodded, “I know, I can feel it.” He dropped his hand and moved away from her while she stepped onto the dais again. No pop and release of magic happed this time, no demons, nothing but the hum of the magic from the pillars intensifying.

She walked to a pillar untying the key from her hip and held it up towards the magic wisping from the holes, unsure of what else to do. She needn’t have worried, as soon as she held the key the magic zipped from the pillar in a loud rush and slammed into the key almost pushing her backwards again. 

The warm tingly feeling came over her again, stronger than before and all at once instead of gradually. She grit her teeth against it as the magic continued to rush into the key, through her body and then back into the key again. It pushed so fast it edged on pain.

She must have cried out because Anders headed for the dais only to be stopped by the tainted man. And then it was over, the magic now throbbing inside of the key. She dropped to her knees feeling odd, not weak exactly, but flushed, as if the magic had washed something away. She felt a little exhilarated too.

It was Anders who helped her to her feet again. “I don’t like this, Hawke. We have no idea what this place is doing to you.”

“I’m alright, I promise. Besides, I have my healer with me, and he’s very good. If something’s not right, he’ll fix it.” She smirked at him.

“Your faith in me is very touching.” His was scowling at her though. He did as he was bid and checked her over several times before he let the magic die, apparently satisfied.

Everyone else had remained silent until Anders guided her down off the dais. The tainted man hurried over to her, a smile on his weathered face. “The blood works, it is good.”

She gave Anders a little push so he’d let her go, the man was worrying like a mother hen and it was starting to get on her nerves. She saw him wince and scowl but he turned and took a couple of steps away from her rubbing his temple. Was that why Anders was so worried, was he not feeling well himself? And if so, why couldn’t he just heal himself?

The tainted man was watching her expectantly so she turned her attention back to him. There would be time enough to worry about Anders later. “You know, if you’re going to keep talking about my blood the least you could do was tell me your name.”

He looked surprised, “Name?” He turned walking towards the wall rubbing his chin, “So long since I’ve said my name.” He paused and mumbled to himself for a moment before looking up triumphantly, “Larius, I was Larius.” He scowled again, “There was a title too.” He paced around for another few moments before smiling at her, it was almost childlike. “Commander, Commander of the Grey.”

“He was a Warden,” Anders’ voice conveyed his disbelief, “Poor wretch must have come down here on his Calling.”

Her sister’s voice chimed in, “That’s what it looks like.”

Larius eagerly nodded, “Yes, the Calling. The songs get louder, only death stops them. I am dead, but I never died.”

What was this shit? “Anders, what are you talking about?” Something in the Wardens turned men into this? This was going to happen to Anders and Bethany?

Anders saw her face, could see how upset she was, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer her but at last he did. “Wardens aren’t immune to the taint forever. In time, we start to hear voices, the same ones Darkspawn hear.”

“What? How long? Are you telling me that’s going to happen to you and Beth?” She didn’t know whether to strangle him or cry. This was all wrong; this wasn’t what was supposed to happen to Bethany. Her sister had to give her life over to fighting Darkspawn, but this was…so much worse. The idea of either Beth or Anders facing this in the future was intolerable.

It was Bethany that answered her, “That’s the life sister, and what becomes of it.”

“I don’t accept that.” 

Bethany gave her a wry smile, “Then I suppose its good you don’t have to.” She turned and walked away from Sekhmet ending the discussion.

She turned her attention to Anders, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at Larius, his jaw set and his shoulders back and stiff, “She opened the damned seal, does that mean we can leave?”

Larius shook his head, “There are more. Follow them in, all the way to the heart, many locks, only one key.” His head jerked up looking towards the doorway out of the room. “C…Corypheus calls in the darkness. What waits there?” And with that he disappeared from the room with surprising speed.

Hawke started after him, she made it about five yards when the sound of Anders’ grunting pulled her up short. She turned around to see him and the others still standing inside the room beside the dais. Varric was standing beside him, his hand resting on Anders’s back while Bethany stood on the other side looking worried.

Anders was holding his head, his eyes screwed shut, “I’m not listening,” and then again more desperately, “I’m not listening.”

Varric patted him, “Come on Blondie, you’re strong enough to overcome this.”

She hurried back to find out what was going on. “Anders? What’s wrong?”

He opened his eyes, the pain slowly fading from them. He lowered his hands little by little and took a few deep breaths, while Varric and Bethany not so subtly backed away from them. “I can,” he exhaled, “I can hear him. I hear him calling.”

She was stunned, “Corypheus?”

He nodded.

“How long?”

“Since you opened the seal. He’s so loud, it’s unbearable. I don’t know how Larius has lived down here all this time.” He wiped a few beads of sweat off his forehead.

“Are you going to be alright?” She had no idea what else to say.

He nodded, “I think I’ll be okay, for now. Let’s get moving, the sooner we’re moving the sooner we can leave this Maker forsaken hole.”

********

Hawke had been very quiet since they had come across the second demon trap. 

Malcom’s voice had rang out stately and articulate, undeniably masculine in the small chamber. “I may have left the Circle, but I took a vow. My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base.”

Hawke had visibly shuddered and turned ashen at the sound.

Beth had smiled sadly at her sister, “That’s what father used to teach me. That which is best in me, not that which is most base, simple words to a foolish little girl.” She sighed, “Papa.”

From the look on Hawke’s face Anders had a feeling Bethany wasn’t the only one to get that lesson. Hawke had forced herself to smile, it was flat, barely lifting the corners of her mouth let alone reaching her eyes, “He’ll live on in what he taught us and in these bizarre magical contraptions.” 

It was only a few minutes later she had decided to set camp so they could get some sleep. They were moving deeper and deeper into the prison, which seemed to go on forever. As much as he wanted to get out in a hurry he knew they all needed a rest.

Now that the fire was going Anders could feel her eyes on him as he sat huddled near the wall. It was almost enough to distract him from the singing in his head. The song that threatened to drag him under and drown him in madness had become incessant and it felt like it pervaded every cell of his being.

He heard her come up behind him and struggled to remain still, not to jump or pull away from her. Or even worse move closer to her, pull her against him. The only time the blasted song quieted at all was when he was close to her, which was worrying in itself. Was it her or the key? Was the song Corypheus’ way of making Anders bring Hawke and the key to him?

He’d been trying to stay as far away from her as he could tolerate. The deeper in they moved, the less space he could stand between them. So far, she hadn’t said anything, but he knew she’d already noticed. 

She crouched on the dirty floor a little behind him and her voice was little more than a whisper when she spoke. “Do you want to be left alone?”

Anders was surprised; it wasn’t like Hawke to be deferential, especially to him. He must look pretty terrible if she was already being so nice to him. Usually, she liked to see how far she could push him. He was quiet as he contemplated it; did he want to be alone? No, he thought not, his head felt too crowded and he needed someone to pull him out of it.

“No, please stay. I’ll try to…control myself.”

She settled down on the floor, “I’m sorry, Anders.”

He shook his head, now an apology? Andraste’s knickers this just kept getting better and better. “Don’t be, you didn’t know what we would find down here.”

She took a deep breath, “Yeah, but I drag you everywhere with me.” She gave him a rueful smile, “Would you take away my leadership medal if I told you I feel safer when you’re with us?”

Anders shrugged, “I’m a healer, it makes sense.”

Hawke snorted, “Is that what it is?”

He straightened up a bit; there was the little troublemaker he was used to. “Don’t push me, Hawke, please. I can’t take it right now.”

She nodded, “Sorry. Is he terribly upset?”

She just kept surprising him the last few days. It was the second time she had backed down from him in as many days. The awful thing was that Anders wasn’t sure how he felt about it. On one hand he was relieved, between Justice and the song Anders felt like he was constantly fighting. Then again, he felt an odd sense of loss when she backed down like that, it wasn’t like her. 

He almost chuckled, this trip was a masochist’s dream and though he didn’t like to think of himself like that, it was times like now when he had to wonder. “I think as long as I can ignore the song somewhat he’ll be fine. He’s agitated but it’s more worry than anything else.”

She nodded, “As if he didn’t have enough reasons to hate me.”

Anders said nothing, Justice didn’t hate her, but sometimes it was not a far thing. 

“We need to get out of here soon; it’s getting to all of us.”

He nodded, “Speaking of, how are you?” He watched as her face went blank and her eyes suddenly seemed a bit unfocused. She was quiet for a long time and Anders thought maybe she wouldn’t respond, or perhaps she would feed him the party line, that she was fine, she was indestructible, untouchable. She was the Hawke.

Suddenly, she closed her eyes and hung her head. “Are we friends, Anders?” her voice was soft and tremulous.

“I…yes, we’re friends.” He lowered his voice as well, not sure why. He wasn’t sure what to say, he thought she knew they were friends.

She nodded, “You care for Bethany.” 

Anders scowled unsure where the conversation was going, “I do.”

Slowly, she raised her head and met his eyes, “You have as much to lose as I do.”

He winced, she trusted him, but only because they had to trust each other. They could destroy each other, so they had no choice but to trust. It hurt more than Anders cared to admit, but he remained silent.

It didn’t matter, Hawke chuckled, “See? I’m still doing it wrong.” She shook her head, “It doesn’t matter, not really, I trust you. You’re the first in a long time.” Her smile faltered again, “Smiles are always easier, easier than trusting, easier than the truth.” 

She took a slow breath and closed her eyes. “I miss him Anders, so much sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe. Everyone follows me, but I don’t understand why, I feel so lost without him.” When she opened her eyes she had a small smile on her lips and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye making its slow way down her cheek.

He hated seeing her in so much pain. Trying to escape it his memory wandered a lifetime away to his own childhood, to his mother and her laughter. He hadn’t realized until he had ended up in the Circle just how special his time with her had been. Even when they were running she was always smiling, always making him laugh.

“Bethany was a much better student than I was, he hadn’t even been dead for ten minutes before I forgot everything he taught me and became a monster.” Her voice had turned bitter, she took several slow breaths and Anders watched her, fascinated as she seemed to battle with herself. “He protected us my whole life and he never became ugly, never became what I have.”

She gave him a small smile, an insincere thing, “You’re so afraid of the spirit inside of you, Anders. You’re afraid that vengeance will consume you and will hurt me. The funny thing is that I gave myself over to vengeance years ago, and I like it.”

“You have a pretty low opinion of yourself.” Anders spoke quietly. There was a big difference between killing Templars to save your family and giving yourself over to vengeance.

She shook her head, “No, I don’t. I just know what I am.”

He sighed, feeling very tired. “And what is that?”

A smirk, “I’m a murderer, a thief, a liar. But mostly, I’m what you’re afraid of becoming.”

Annoyed that she was making assumptions he scowled at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She pinned him with her gaze. “I like you Anders, I more than like you. You’re the first person since my father’s death I can remember trusting wholly, even with my life. But if it came down to your life or keeping Bethany free of the Templars, I’d gut you where you sit. You all need to stop pretending I’m some kind of hero.”

He thought she was being far too hard on herself. “You’re a good person, Hawke. You do a lot of good for people.”

She laughed bitterly, “No, I’m not. Bethany’s the good one. I do what I can for her, to make her happy. I would do anything for her not to be like me, like Carver. The world makes people like us to protect people like her.” She seemed to draw in on herself, and her eyes misted over again, “I’d do anything,” she shook a little, “not that I’m any good at it. I nearly got her killed, and gave her over to a lifetime of fighting the very creatures we left Ferelden to escape. Is it any wonder she can’t even look at me?”

He touched her shoulder gently, trying to offer her some comfort. Hawke pulled away from his touch and Anders felt hurt by her rejection. Couldn’t she see he needed to comfort her as much as she needed to be comforted? He wanted so desperately for her to lean on him, to be the one she could turn to and count on. He wanted…too much.

Her voice strained a little, “You don’t need to do that Anders, I know you don’t like touching me or even getting too close to me.”

“I…” but Anders had nothing to say to her, nothing safe to say anyways. Instead, he settled on reaffirming their previous conversation, “We’re friends, Hawke.”

She gave him a shaky smile and leaned back against the wall. “So how do I help you, Anders? This voice seems to be getting stronger everyday we’re down here. What can I do?”

Anders sighed, “Just this, talk to me, keep me distracted.” He gave a little laugh, the sound more than a little hysterical sounding, “I don’t feel so crazy when someone besides the people in my head are talking to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything.” Anders almost cringed as the word left his mouth; he was going to regret that, he just knew it.

She smirked and though it was at his expense it was better than nothing at all. “How about our temporary home?” She gestured around them.

Relieved she was behaving herself, he nodded, “One good thing about an ancient underground prison, not a lot of Templars.”

She snickered, “You should set up shop. It’s no worse than your current digs.”

He chuckled, genuinely amused, “Good point, I could be quite comfortable here actually. Clean the taint off the floor, maybe hang a few pictures. It might even be a step up from Darktown.”

She relaxed back against the wall, “A new base of operations for Kirkwall’s Mage Underground?”

He nodded, “It’s got potential.”

She fell silent for a moment and watched him. Eventually, she whispered to him, “Would you let me read it?”

Anders shifted uncomfortably fearing he knew what she was talking about, “Read what?”

“Your treatise on mages, I know you’ve been writing one.”

Writing? That was a bit of a stretch. He’d burned the damned thing and hadn’t written a word of it since. “It’s more of a manifesto , but it’s not ready for anyone to read yet. It’s a garbled mess right now. I get too emotional sometimes when I’m writing it. I need to clean it up.”

She was smiling at him again. “You should let me help.”

He shook his head, there was no way. The manifesto was something he had to do, on his own, or rather, with Justice. “No, this is really something I need to do.”

“I was just thinking about helping you edit it; it might help to have an outside perspective. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be shocked by what it says.”

He nodded, “Maybe you’re right.” Maybe she could make sense of the garbled mass of scripture, emotions and information he poured out onto parchment. He had a hard time figuring out the best way to reach the masses, and what was the point if those reading it just thought he was mad? The dull pounding headache that had accompanied Corypheus song all day suddenly reasserted itself. Anders winced and reached for his head. “Looks like I’m in for another sleepless night.”

Hawke looked sympathetic. And she would understand better than anyone else, wouldn’t she? “I would have thought you would be used to it by now. How long has it been since you slept all the way through the night?”

Anders sighed, “A very long time.” He stiffened when she moved behind him, “What are you doing?”

“Will you relax; I’m not going to bite you.” She pulled the thong from his hair and tipped his head forward. She started massaging his neck from the base moving up a couple of inches into his hairline at the base of his skull. 

Anders groaned, he hadn’t realized how sore his neck had been. He concentrated on taking slow breaths and trying to relax, Hawke wasn’t being sexual in anyway. She was just trying to help him. Her hands were warm and soothing, her calloused fingers strong as they worked the muscle.

There was a loud popping noise and Hawke froze, “Are you alright?”

He rolled his head around his shoulders stretching his neck out, “It actually felt good.”

She laughed, “Good, for a moment I was afraid I had broken you.”

“I’m not that delicate.”

“Here, slide off your coat.” She tugged on it gently.

“Hawke,” his voice held a tone of warning.

“Just slide it down off your shoulders. Maker, you act like I’m going to attack you.”

He unhooked the small chain holding his feathered pauldrons in place before unbuckling his coat and sliding it down a bit. “You act like you’re going to attack me half the time.”

Her fingers started working on the tight knots in his shoulders through his thin tunic. “Hmm, much as I enjoy being with you and enjoy teasing you I wouldn’t do something like that to you, Anders. You don’t ever have to worry about me forcing myself on you, I promise you that.”

Anders, who had slumped forward, sat back up. “No, I didn’t mean…I know you wouldn’t… I mean...”

“Shh, relax; I was just starting to get you to loosen up some. You’re so tense; it’s probably half of why you have a headache.”

Anders relaxed forward again though his mind was racing. He hadn’t meant to insinuate that she would force him to do anything. He closed his eyes as her fingers kneaded his muscles, she was trying to be nice and he was making her sound like some kind of bully. “Hard to believe I was once funny and charming, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

He could hear the smile in her voice, “Not at all, you still are when you choose to be.” 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly feeling some of his tension melt away. He had come to enjoy these moments with Hawke. It was times like now when she was more herself than any other time. The loud, laughing Hawke was a part of her, but it was as much disguise as it was her, as was the overtly sexual woman.

It was this Hawke, the one that reminded him that he was, at least in part, still a man, still human that was the one he couldn’t help himself from falling in love with. Until the song, the voice that had started chipping away at his sanity, he had actually been enjoying this trip, even though it was into the Deep Roads.

He was with the only three people he really knew who had treated him like a person in a long time. He glanced towards the fire where Varric and Bethany were chatting amicably. Varric noticed him watching them and smiled back.

Hawke’s hands slipped a little lower working the tight muscles between his shoulder blades and his spine and Anders couldn’t stop a small noise of pleasure from escaping him. “That’s nice.” He murmured. As he relaxed into her touch it seemed the darkness in his head seemed to retreat a little along with the pain. 

He felt just a little more anchored, a little saner. The voice still called to him, still pushed at him but it was quieter, less insistent. He wasn’t quite as terrified that he could tumble over the edge at any moment. Seemed Hawke was both his torment and his salvation.


	38. What I Will Bear

She felt sick to her stomach, her hand stopped halfway to touching the magical seal that would free the demon. She really wasn’t sure she could take anymore. Hearing his voice had rocked her in ways she hadn’t expected. Grief and shame had been eating away at her. Inside she felt brittle, like she would snap in two at the slightest touch.

Bethany brushed past her, “We have to, sis.” She touched the seal and released the demon. 

The fight blurred by her, she was steeling herself for whatever new revelation her father had in store for them. She stood, blades dripping, staring at the far wall, unable to even look at the pale blue eyes floating in the amorphous cloud. Pale blue eyes reminiscent of the ones she had inherited from her father.

“I’ve bought our freedom Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. We’ll be together. I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one. May they never learn what I’ve done here.”

_“Papa, please I miss you so much.”_ She hung her head and took a couple of deep breaths calming herself.

“He was talking about you. Mother must have been pregnant with you when they left Kirkwall.” Bethany was obviously as heartbroken as she was. “He didn’t want to pass magic to a child and then he had me. He’d hate what I’ve become.”

She wanted to scream at her, ask her if she was mad. Papa had adored Bethany, had been quietly thrilled to have a mage daughter. It was the way the rest of the world treated mages that papa hated. She knew Bethany though, and her sister wouldn’t hear any of what she said if she tried to explain that to her now.

Instead, she focused on her other statements, “What you’ve become is a lot more impressive than what you almost became, which was dead.”

Bethany sneered, “Look at the horrors around us, sometimes dead is preferable.”

Would shaking her sister knock any sense into her skull? “Father didn’t believe that, and neither do you. Not really.”

Beth’s face softened a bit, “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.” She seemed about to say more but fell silent, looking to the floor.

Alright, that was enough moping for both of them. Time to borrow a well tested smile maker. Perhaps Carver wouldn’t mind. She waived her hands around and bounced up and down like a loon and cried out to get her sister’s attention, “Bethany!” She’d be damned if she was going to make an ass of herself just to have her sister miss it.

Her sister looked up and giggled, “Carver’s jig.” She covered her mouth as she laughed even harder.

Sekhmet was just glad to stop, since Varric and Anders were both looking at her like she’d lost her mind. She ignored them both, “The antidote for every skinned knee, dead pet and broken toy.”

Her sister sighed, “I miss him, he tried so hard.” Her smile slipped away, “I miss you and mother. And now father again. And I can’t come back until…everything is done, starting here.”

She missed Carver to, her brother would never believe it but she did. And her father, there was no use dwelling on the empty hole in her heart, the ragged scar torn open anew spilling her life blood with each pump. She knew at least her father knew how much he had meant to her. 

For now, she had Bethany with her, and she would make the most of it, try to fix the mess between them. She hugged Bethany, holding her tight. Bethany shifted a little in surprise but didn’t try to pull away from her. And in time she even hugged Sekhmet back with a quiet chuckle.

She eventually let her go, and was happy to see Bethany smiling at her. Not fixed of course, but a step in the right direction. Bethany had complained all the time when they were growing up that Sekhmet didn’t let her hug her more often. Maybe she could see how much Sekhmet wanted to fix things between them.

Varric was smirking at them when she turned around.

“What?” She asked.

He shook his head, “Oh no, I’m keeping my mouth shut. I like my intestines exactly where they are.”

Anders shook his head scowling at Varric, “Pervert,” he turned around and walked away.

Varric laughed, “Yeah, and what does that make you?”

Sekhmet decided she didn’t want to know and followed Anders. She’d already figured out he didn’t do so well when she got too far away from him. Which was something else she’d decided she didn’t want to think about, and Anders wasn’t talking about it, was it any wonder every day down here felt like an eternity?

When they came to another seal she quickly touched it, freeing the pride demon. The four of them were all kept busy as the thing not only teleported but made replicas of itself. But it, like the one before it, was fairly weak. And when it lie dead the pillars lit up with magic. 

Anders walked to the edge of the dais and held out his hand for her. 

“Going with me this time?”

He nodded, “That way I won’t break an ankle trying to catch you when you inevitably collapse.”

She smiled and took his hand stepping onto the dais with him. As she untied the key at her hip she felt a ripple of unease. She looked up at Anders, “Are you going to be alright when I release this seal?”

He shrugged, “I hope so.”

She took a deep breath and held up the key. Again, the magic jumped into the key, and into her body. Her skin cracked open and warmth flooded through her in a torrent. She heard a small sound escape her mouth, a sound of surprise. This seal was stronger than the last and the magic moved faster.

Anders’ hand settled on her shoulder steadying her. She couldn’t see him but heard him gasp slightly before his other hand settled on her other shoulder. The magic slacked, became less intense. Could he feel the magic too? Was he alright? 

She couldn’t even turn her head to look. The magic finally settled into the key and she slumped back against Anders. He held her there for a moment breathing raggedly. 

“Maker, are you two alright?” Varric had run up onto the dais.

She nodded and Anders murmured his assurances from behind her. He finally let her go, and she turned to look at him. He was visibly shaken. What had the magic done to him?

“Are you really okay?” She asked, tying the dagger back to her belt.

He flexed his hands a few times, looking at them. “I seem to be all in one piece.”

“If there are more seals maybe you should stay away from me when I do that. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She’d hate herself if she were to hurt him.

Anders chuckled and let his magic swirl around her, checking her for injuries. “I’m afraid I’ll be listening to that advice about as well as you do, meus parnum leana.”

Irritation bloomed inside her. No wonder Anders got so testy with her. Here she was trying to protect him and he was blowing off her concern, which was what she’d been doing to him for years. “What is that? That’s the second time you’ve called me that.” 

His magic swirled around himself next, “Maybe someday, when I’ve lost my mind completely, I’ll tell you.”

She scowled at him, it wasn’t fair. The man could speak a half dozen different languages and the one he chose to use was one he knew she couldn’t. Was he calling her something awful? Or was it just his way to get away with calling her brat or pest or something else ridiculous. 

Perhaps she’d talk to Fenris when they got back, see if he couldn’t tell her what Anders was saying. Then again maybe not, Fenris couldn’t even be civil when Anders was mentioned. For now Anders’ secret was safe. Even more annoyed she turned and stomped away from him.

Something Anders clearly hadn’t been prepared for, his agonized voice called out behind her, “No, get out of my head.”

She turned and headed back even before Bethany said, “We need to find a way to calm him down.”

She stopped beside him, “Come on, Anders we need to keep moving.”

He nodded, standing up straighter, “You’re going to hate me by the time we’re out of here, aren’t you?”

She smirked at him as they walked out of the room together, “What makes you think I’m not using this to my advantage?”

He started to smile, but it dissolved as Larius rushed up to them again. 

“He is waking, the magic grows lax. He feels us walk where no step goes.”

She scowled at the strange man, “Of course the magic grows lax, we’re opening the seals. That was the whole damned point wasn’t it?”

Larius looked at Anders, did he see the strain her beloved mage was under? “He calls like an old god. He mimics their cry.”

Anders looked at her more closely, “Can the rest of you hear him? I figured it was just me.”

She shook her head, she didn’t hear anything.

But Bethany spoke up behind her, “I can now.”

Anders turned to her, looking anxious. And when Sekhmet turned to look at Bethany she looked worried as well. Even Varric was suddenly on edge. How were they supposed to get through the rest of this prison if both their mages were out of commission? She and Varric were good, but she wasn’t sure they were that good.

Larius continued speaking, ignoring the interplay of anxiety between them. “He calls them to free him. The dark children and the light, any with taint in their blood.”

Dark children and the light? Was he talking about the Darkspawn and the Wardens? And if he wasn’t an old god how was he calling to Anders and Bethany? “If Corypheus isn’t an old god what is he? Human? Demon? Darkspawn?”

Larius’ answer, as always, was not remotely helpful. “More than Darkspawn, more than human, he thinks, he talks, he pierces the Veil.”

Bethany let out a small gasp behind her, “Such a Darkspawn, the Wardens call them Awakened. We have only seen them once.”

Anders paled noticeably beside her but when he spoke there was acid in his tone, “That’s the Wardens, always so sure of everything.”

Larius dipped his head in what might have been a nod of agreement, or just a spasmodic neck jerk, “He wants what was once his.”

There was still something that was confusing her, “How could this Corypheus be sending people after me if he’s asleep?”

Larius became animated again, “He can call, dream, but not know. When the seals are gone he will wake, and he must die.”

Right, and he would die, Sekhmet would make sure of it. As for Larius, she wondered how long he’d lived in the dark in this strange half life. Had he been accidentally trapped years ago? “Why are you down here? How have you survived?”

Larius’ postured changed, he stooped over even more, “The Calling, the music, it is our death.”

Before she could say anything Anders was speaking to her. “The Wardens say once the corruption goes far enough the Darkspawn can’t sense you anymore.”

“But you’re supposed to die after that.” Bethany added.

“Yes, I lived, but I died. The corruption feeds me.” Larius’ eyes’ drifted closed briefly, “So many years in darkness.”

So the Wardens were supposed to die with their Calling, yet somehow Larius had survived. Did Corypheus have something to do with that? “When you run off, where do you go?”

He paused cocking his head, “I know the darkness before the seals. Here, the voice is too strong.” He turned and scurried away, “I cannot stay.”

********

With Larius gone Anders had decided if Bethany was hearing Corypheus’ call it was time to figure out what exactly it was that was quieting the call when he got close to Hawke. And through experimentation they discovered it was the combination of Hawke with the key. And even Bethany carrying the key didn’t work.

The only thing Anders could think of was that it was because Hawke had released the seals. The magic that rushed through her and into the key must have bound it to her in some way. Everytime he thought about the seal he had to suppress a shiver.

The seal had been…a surprise. He hadn’t thought that some of the magic would have made its way into him. The weird thing was that it hadn’t felt like the magic in the pillars. No, he was pretty sure that the strange, exhilarating, wild and untamed magic was exactly what Hawke’s magic would have felt like if she had been a mage. 

And it had felt good, really damned good. Afterwards he had felt a little guilty, like he’d glimpsed something he shouldn’t have. The guilt was no comparison with the sheer pleasure he had felt during the seal opening, or the simple joy of holding Hawke for a few moments while they both recovered from the surge, hence his impatience to reach the next seal.

So he kept them moving forward, letting Hawke stand as close to him as she wanted and for once grateful for it. If she moved more than five or so feet away Corypheus dug his claws into Anders’ mind. Bethany was much better off; she barely heard the call at all. Even when Hawke was ten feet away it was louder to her but barely more than an annoyance.

The level of the Deep Roads they were on now was a lot worse than those before it. It was infested with deep stalkers and was more swamp than road. A sickly green light hung over the entire place. He had to force himself not to quicken his steps and hurry through it. Hawke’s legs were a lot shorter than his and he’d move beyond the short leash of the key quickly.

Varric came up and started steering him towards the edge of a pool pointing to a suit of armor lying in the muck. “That looks like Legion of the Dead Armor.” He looked to Hawke and grinned, “It’s an Orzammar thing. No matter your crime, if you join the Legion and vow to die fighting Darkspawn your name is cleared.”

Fond memories washed over Anders, memories he hadn’t thought of in a long time of an adorable little dwarf who had made him smile on many occasions. “I had a friend in the Legion once. A girl named Sigrun, not nearly as dour as you’d expect.”

Varric nodded, “Wardens and Legionnaires run into each other a lot in the Deep Roads.”

Hawke squatted and started to go through the armor. So very typical of her, just another body to raid for supplies. Instead of supplies she found a piece of parchment. She scanned it quickly before reading it aloud. She’d found a journal page of a man who had joined the Legion after committing, and admitting to a murder. He’d been sent into the Deep Roads to find a Paragon’s son.

Varric scratched his chin, “The Legion of the Dead sent after Paragon Guerren’s heir, why does that sound familiar?” He sighed thoughtfully, “I think Guerren was sometime in the early exalted age, hundreds of years ago.”

Anders looked back at the armor, it had held up remarkably well for being hundreds of years old and being in such a damp climate. 

“Do you think they found him?” Hawke asked.

Varric shrugged, “Who knows?” Then headed back up the small rise they had come down.

It was less than a half hour later when they came across another set of Legion of the Dead armor. This time Varric rifled through it and successfully found a very worn looking journal. He carefully turned to the last page, cursing as some of the pages crumbled into dust. 

He read it aloud, explaining that five years later Paragon Guerren was still looking for his son Tethras. He inhaled and blew out a his breath in a low whistle. “That’s where I know the name. Tethras Guerren should have been the heir to the Guerren clan, but he was accused of killing his sister and sent into the Deep Roads to die. When the real murderer was caught they tried to find him. They never could. Instead, every Guerren heir from that time on took the name Tethras in his honor. One of them became a paragon in his own right and founded my clan.”

“So this is kind of your ancestor they’re looking for?” Bethany asked.

Varric shook his head, “Not directly, but uh…a little closer than I like to come to my past, you know.”

She looked to Hawke, “We have to find him.”

“We’ll try, after this long there might not be anything to find even.” 

Even so it seemed to mollify Bethany.

When they stumbled into a temple to Dumat Anders cringed. It brought home how very old the Deep Roads here were and stirred Anders’ worry about what exactly Corypheus was. Was he an awakened Darkspawn like The First, or was he something more like Renault, the Architect?

Hawke walked up to the altar and looked closely at the dishes sitting on it. The dishes were filled with liquid lyrium, something else was in the liquid as well but Anders had no idea what. Justice sitting up and suddenly taking notice made it hard to miss the lyrium. She knocked the dishes onto the floor, inadvertently splashing some of the liquid onto her boots and armor.

She couldn’t know it, but she’d just made Anders’ life so much worse. Justice gibbered away at Anders, wanting the lyrium, to touch it, to feel the buzz of it rushing through him. He hummed along in Anders’ head to the tune now clinging to Hawke’s boots. The sound of the lyrium clashed angrily with the nonstop notes from Corypheus’ call. And the discordant symphony made Anders’ head throb.

He found it hard to pay attention to anything other than staying close enough to Hawke after that. He knew they found another legionnaire and had eventually found Tethras Guerren. Hawke had found some notes, by the very old remnants of a fire, written by a Warden and wanted to discuss them but he hadn’t been able to concentrate on what she was saying.

She’d swiped hair off his forehead, and it was only then he’d realized how much he was sweating. His thoughts were such a mess. Justice’s chant of _“need, need, need”_ blended with Corypheus’ and even his own. Although, all three needed very different things. He gave her some half assed assurance and begged her to keep moving. Out of all the things he wanted it was the safest.

********

Sekhmet turned around sharply when she heard Anders groan. He was bent over clutching his head with his eyes clenched shut. “Make him stop, just make him stop talking.” He wailed, his voice breaking.

She ran the few feet to his side, not caring that he was dangerous when he lost himself. She put her arm around him, “What can I do to help?”

He looked up at her, his whole body trembling, “There’s too much taint in my blood.” Anders curled in on himself as if trying to hold himself together and Sekhmet ran her hand soothingly over his back. He moaned clutching his head.

She waived at the others to back off, and moved closer. Why wasn’t this helping him now? “Concentrate on me, Anders, listen to me, to my voice.”

“I,” Anders’ breath hitched, “Sekhmet?” He sounded confused and like he was in pain, it tore at her heart. He had called her by her first name and she wasn’t even sure if he realized it. She smoothed his hair back.

“I’m right here, right beside you.” She felt Bethany and Varric staring at them, could feel their unease, but she needed to keep Anders focused on her. 

“Please” he whispered, “please, stop it.” His hand clutched at the side of her armor pulling her closer still.

“How? Tell me what you need.” She wrapped her arm around his back again, standing with her side pressed against him. She didn’t know what else to do.

Anders’ body jerked and a broken sound tore from his throat, she held onto him even more tightly as the cracks started opening along his skin. He looked up at her, still doubled over, his eyes were still his own but his body trembled and shook more violently every second. He was fighting Justice, struggling to hold on, to keep control.

“I’m here Anders, here with you.” She touched his cheek, her fingers buzzing slightly from the magic, seeping from his skin. “I’m here for you, always. Stay here with me, please.”

She saw sadness etched into his face as his body lurched again, she never loosened her grip. She watched as his eyes started to change and it hurt to watch, it was as if Justice were pushing Anders under, as if he were drowning Anders. She wanted to scream at Justice to stop it but doubted it would help Anders. She’d probably make it worse.

Her skin crawled when his mouth opened and two voices emerged. Anders’ voice a sad fading echo “Don’t hurt her.” Almost lost under Justice’s “I will not be controlled.” Even strained as it was, Justice’s voice rumbled like thunder around them in the stone cavern.

Sekhmet’s heart hammered in her chest, as Anders’ or rather Justice’s gaze swung to Bethany and Varric, seemingly dismissing Sekhmet as he shoved her roughly away from him. He brought Anders’ staff up and pounded it on the ground once summoning two shades. Justice summoning the shades made her blood run cold. How had he done that, could a Fade spirit even summon shades?

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Bethany starting a spell, “Don’t touch him, get the shades.” She yelled before she slipped around behind Anders’ body.

She yanked the key loose from her belt, snapping the leather thong tying it there and used the hilt to strike him in the back of the skull. She was trying to stun him but he barely reacted. Justice kept his gaze on Bethany and Varric; he raised his arms as he began to cast something, the blue light emanating from his body brightened. Sekhmet panicked, something she never did. If he was pulling on his connection with the Fade the spell would be very powerful. 

Afraid he would hurt Varric or Bethany, before Justice could finish and before she could think about it, she jumped onto his back wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Justice roared, his hand swiping at her and narrowly missing her face. She shifted herself so that she held Anders’ body in a sleeper hold, she didn’t want to hurt him but she couldn’t have him hurting Varric or Bethany.

She whispered close to his ear, “If you can hear me, I’m sorry Anders.” She tightened her grip using her left arm to apply leverage to her right arm which was pressed against the sides of Anders’ throat cutting off the blood supply to his brain. She heard an odd barking noise from Justice and he took a staggering step forward. Sekhmet squeezed tighter and then her whole world was pain. 

Her vision dimmed almost immediately as she felt all the muscles in her body contract painfully. Her scream was high pitched and loud as agony wracked her whole being. Her back arched sharply as the pain went on and on threatening to dislodge her from Justice’s back.

He staggered again and Sekhmet shrieked in pain as her insides felt as if they had been lit on fire, there was a raging inferno in her body, she could almost swear she could smell her flesh cooking. Her legs trembled as the muscles strained to hold her in position around his waist, struggling against the force that was tearing at her body.

She felt her body trying to give way to unconsciousness to escape the pain but she struggled to hold on. Muddled thoughts right now could have disastrous consequences. If Justice didn’t go down first, none of them might ever wake up. She felt as if strands of rope in her arms were being twisted and stretched too far and they began snapping, the new pain cascading through her body as she clung to his neck. 

Her eyes clenched shut against the stabbing pain and she felt Justice pulling at her arms, trying to pull her off him, an animalistic growl coming from his throat before he was stumbling forward again. Sekhmet wasn’t sure which one of them fell first but as their bodies tumbled towards the ground she felt consciousness finally slipping from her, her body had given in. 

She caught things in hazy glimpses for a while after that. Her mind foggy, she felt more than saw Bethany untangling her body from Anders’ before she slipped away again. Sometime later she heard Bethany screeching something that she couldn’t quite make out but the weight of Anders’ body was gone from hers. She tried to rouse herself to see what was upsetting Bethany but her mind drifted again.

When she opened her eyes next she saw Anders bent over her, his lips set in a grim line and unshed tears in his eyes. She tried to reach for him, he looked so sad she wanted to comfort him, tell him everything was alright, but he pushed her hand gently back down and whispered, “Don’t waste your strength on me.” Even his voice was strained, she tried to speak but her mouth didn’t seem to be working right and then the darkness closed over her again.

The next time she came to she felt more coherent. Anders was sitting close to her, watching her, “Anders?” her throat felt like she had eaten glass.

“Shh, you need to rest.” He murmured quietly, his voice still soft and thick. He was holding her hand, his thumb stroked gently over the back of it. Content she was safe, she drifted away again.

She opened her eyes slowly, Anders was sitting next to where she lay but he wasn’t looking at her and he was no longer holding her hand. He rocked slowly back and forth as he gnawed on a ragged looking thumbnail; there were glimpses of red around the cuticle as if he had drawn blood several times already.

“Anders?” her voice sounded odd in her ears.

Anders jerked and turned to her, “You’re awake,” he looked relieved but only for a second; she watched his face become strained for a moment before his face settled into the neutral expression he used with his patients in the clinic.

“What happened?” Her throat felt raw, she licked her dry lips and looked around slowly.

Anders handed her a waterskin, or rather he tried to, she could barely lift her arms to it. He moved closer, lifting and supporting her head while he held the water skin to her lips. She managed to touch the skin but grasping it was more of a challenge, her hands felt so weak. 

After she had drank her fill he shook his head as he took it back, “I almost killed you.”

Sekhmet frowned, that felt wrong, Anders wouldn’t hurt her. Her head felt fuzzy, and she struggled to remember what had happened. She remembered Anders bent over clutching his head. After a few moments she remembered Justice looking up at her before he summoned those shades. “Not you, Justice.”

Anders closed his eyes, his healer mask slipping a little. “When are you going to understand, I am Justice?” 

“So you wanted to kill me?”

His breath hitched, “No,”

“Then it was Justice.” She was adamant; he needed to realize this was not his doing.

Anders looked down, “I don’t know,” he shook his head slowly again, “He can kill in moments, but…” his voice trailed off.

She watched him for several moments. “So he attacked me, almost killed me, but didn’t? Why?” How had she managed to survive if Justice had really tried to kill her this time? Had Anders somehow saved her, again?

Anders shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Then she remembered them both falling forward. “You passed out. When I went down, you were going down too.”

Anders nodded, “I passed out briefly.”

“But it was enough?”

“Evidently.”

Maybe she’d managed to save herself. That would be ironic wouldn’t it? She had managed to save herself when she’d failed to save Papa, or Carver or Bethany? That was almost too cruel to think. “So maybe he did want me dead, but couldn’t before you passed out.”

Anders gave a half hearted shrug, “Does it matter?”

She sighed, he was right, did it matter? At least they were both alive. She tried to sit up and felt light headed. “What’s wrong with me?”

“There was a lot of damage; it took a lot of energy to heal you this time, yours and mine. You’re just tired.” Anders looked towards the fire and saw Bethany starting to stand up, “Listen, Hawke,” he turned back to her, seemingly rushing now, “Thank you for trying to help me, there’s no way to apologize for what I did to you, but I’m sorry I hurt you. I don’t know why you keep risking your life for me, maybe…”

“Did you tell her you electrocuted her?” Bethany’s voice was brittle behind him.

He closed his eyes completely unable to hide his pain this time. “Not yet, she just woke up.”

“You should have let me cast something, Sekhmet. He nearly killed you.” Beth was seething.

Sekhmet pushed herself slowly upright, surprised to find herself in a long loose fitting tunic, and her legs bare. She scowled for a second in confusion before deciding it wasn’t important. She needed to nip Bethany’s snit in the bud. She looked up at her sister, grateful for her desire to protect her, but this wasn’t really the time or place for this argument. “It wouldn’t have done any good; Justice can dispel magic as fast as you can cast it.”

“Then Varric…”

“Enough, I’m not arguing about this.” Cutting her off, Sekhmet used what little steel was left in her to end the discussion.

Bethany nodded grudgingly and turned back towards the fire. Anders watched her walk away before turning back to Sekhmet, “Why?” She barely heard him.

That pain in his voice was going to kill her. “Why what, Anders?”

“Why did you do it? Why risk your life?”

She watched him for a few moments then smiled, falling back on what was safe. “Maybe I just wanted another excuse to touch you.”

“Hawke,” he paused and took her hand again, nervousness clear on his face. “Sekhmet, please, this isn’t funny, you nearly died. I almost,” He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, “I couldn’t bear it.” His fingers closed over hers and squeezed a little.

She moved closer to Anders and rose slowly, and with great effort, to her knees. Leaning forward she tugged her hand free from his grasp. He looked at her, pain in his eyes, and brows furrowed in confusion. She wrapped her arms around him, touched her forehead to his and with her mouth close to his, feeling his breath rush across her lips as she whispered. “Now you know why I did it, because I couldn’t bear it either.” She kissed him on the cheek and let him go before he could protest and pull away from her.

He shuddered and looked down at the floor, “I’ll always hurt you, or worse.”

There wasn’t much left of her darling mage. He was a wreck, all of his strength having been eroded by Corypheus, Justice and even herself. She could press him now and he’d probably cave, give her anything she asked for, even his heart. But she wouldn’t take advantage of him, not like this. If he didn’t already care for her, he wouldn’t be hurting like this.

So instead she offered him the truth. It was twisted and wrong and she knew it, but she didn’t care. She loved him beyond such ridiculous concepts as right and wrong. She tilted up his chin so she could look him in the eyes, “And I’ll always forgive you.” He tried to pull away and she stroked his cheek with her other hand, “Always.”

“Stop.” His voice was strained, broken and he stood up abruptly. He looked down at her briefly and she could see him fighting himself before he turned and walked away from her, his head down.

********

He should stay away from her, as far away as he could stand. The problem was, he couldn’t bear being away from her at all. He hated himself, and he ached unbearably, a screaming throbbing pain that made it hard to breathe.

She’d forgiven him, again. How could she possibly forgive him after everything he had done? How could he possibly be contemplating going near her after he’d lost control and nearly ended her life, again.

She turned then, as if sensing his eyes on her. She gave him a slow, sad smile and waived him over. He looked to Varric and Bethany, both deep in conversation after she had shooed them away from her. 

As soon as he’d walked away earlier they’d hovered over her, like she was some delicate flower. She’d bared it with grace for almost an hour before losing patience with them both. Varric had merely nodded and walked away, but Bethany had been hurt by the reprimand. And wasn’t there enough friction between the sisters already? The bitterness between them had resurfaced because of him this time.

And he knew if he was to go to her, to his little lioness, that it would just make things worse. The truth was he needed her. Justice had fallen silent, a heavy and sullen silence and with Justice quiet it left him more vulnerable to Corypheus. And who knew what might happen if Corypheus managed to get control of him?

So, he pushed slowly to his feet. Once on his feet he couldn’t control himself. He rushed to her side and sat beside her, trembling slightly as he lowered himself to the floor. He was mad, crazy as a loon he knew, but so was she.

“What are we doing?” He whispered.

She smiled at him, a slow smile, a tired smile. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles and she was ashen, evidence of how much the healing had taken out of her. “We’re sitting by a fire.” She responded blandly.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I don’t have it in me to play games right now, Hawke.” Why was he still whispering? Maker, he wanted to be alone with her so badly, no judging eyes, no worried glances from the others. 

“How long has it been since you slept, Anders?” Her voice was soft and sweet.

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t even guess, first it had been Corypheus’ song that had kept him from sleep, but then Hawke had been hurt and he’d had to watch over her. 

She pushed herself back a bit and tugged on his shoulder, “Lay down,” urging him to lay his head in her lap.

He must have been exhausted because he only hesitated a moment. He shifted, laying on the ground, curled on his side, his head cradled in her lap, the lap currently covered in his tunic, and stared into the fire. She untied the leather thong in his hair and pulled it loose. Her hand skated soothingly over his hair, calming him.

On a mad urge he grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it before letting it go. She gently ran the back of her knuckles over his cheek before returning to stroking his hair. Corypheus’ call was quieting, and he glanced to see the key only a few inches away. He sighed softly, relieved. Whatever it was that quieted Corypheus’ call, he appreciated it. 

And with the quiet his fatigue swept over him. He felt himself nodding off, right there on the ground. After the briefest flashes of panic he let himself fall asleep. Hawke would watch over him, as he had watched over her. 

Sometime later, he wasn’t sure how long had passed, Hawke woke him gently. When he managed to pry his eyes open he found his bedroll had been laid out and she was urging him onto it. He climbed in, his body feeling heavy with exhaustion. She went to get up and he grabbed her wrist without really thinking about it, “please” he whispered, begging her to stay with him. He feared if she left the call would drown out everything else again.

She nodded and had Varric move her bedroll. It was far enough away that he had plenty of room but close enough that he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to, an urge he just barely managed to resist. 

Tyr padded over and sniffed at Anders’ shoulder for a moment before he settled himself down a few feet behind Anders. Was it strange that the dog made him feel safer, more comfortable? And why, after what had happened were both Hawke and Tyr being so careful with him? Why were they both looking after him? He didn’t have time to ponder it too much as exhaustion pulled him into sleep’s embrace again quickly.

********

Varric chuckled and gestured behind her. Bethany didn’t want to look; she’d purposely avoided looking at Sekhmet and Anders for the last several hours. Curiosity got the best of her though and she looked to see what had so amused Varric. 

Anders was still lying on his side, his hand stretched out towards Sekhmet, though he wasn’t quite touching her, and behind him Tyr had crawled onto his bedroll and was curled up tight against his back. And for a cat person, Anders looked oddly content with Tyr cuddled up behind him.

Bethany shook her head and turned to Varric. “They’re both mad,” she muttered.

Varric nodded, “Perhaps, but maybe it’s just what they need. Maybe if he hadn’t been fighting his feelings for her, _and_ Justice _and_ Corypheus he wouldn’t have lost control of himself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this Sunshine, but everytime he’s just let himself be with her since we’ve been trapped down here he’s been better.”

“So, it’s alright that he nearly killed her?” Beth snapped, how could Varric so blithely be alright with what they’d witnessed? It was the second time the two of them had seen Justice almost kill Sekhmet.

“No, but look at them, really look at them. They’re both asleep, really and truly asleep. Do I have to tell _you_ how rare that is? And they’ve been asleep for hours without waking up from a nightmare. And not that I’m generally the overly sentimental type, but if anger really did warp Justice, don’t you think a little love would be good for him?” He wasn’t watching her; instead he was still watching the sleeping trio.

“It doesn’t excuse what he did.” 

The smile fell from his face and he sighed heavily, “You’re right, of course. It’s just sad; Blondie is a good guy, a little nutty about mages, but generally good. If it wasn’t for Justice…” He stopped, dropping his gaze.

She did understand how he felt, she felt the same way. If it wasn’t for Justice, Anders would be damned near perfect. And whatever else she felt towards her sister, she still wanted her happy. Of course, if there was some way to separate Anders and Justice would Sekhmet still love him, or did she find him so compelling because he was possessed? 

Maybe tortured men were a weakness for women in her family. Her own mother had left a happy home and the promise of marriage to a wealthy man to run away with an apostate to forever live on the run and in abject poverty. Her sister had been smitten by the possessed apostate practically from the moment she had met him. And she herself couldn’t stop thinking about the overly quiet and brooding dark haired Ferelden Warden who seemed to have such an aversion to her. 

And she was even worse than Sekhmet. She didn’t even know the man’s name and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. His grey eyes and that gravelly voice had been haunting her dreams for weeks.

Could he be the Ferelden Commander of the new unit of Wardens she was being assigned to? That would certainly be interesting, wouldn’t it?

********

He hadn’t let her go since they’d left camp. Once they’d been packed up he’d held out his hand and she had taken it with a smile. He had to keep her close because of the call, that and the fact that she wasn’t fully recovered yet. When she’d complained of being tired he’d foolishly offered to carry her, on his back. 

She’d scowled and slapped his arm. And even that had tickled him. Today had been oddly freeing. Being able to touch her and hold her without worrying about repercussions had revived him, everything done safely under the guise of his sanity and her welfare. And if she was just saying that she wasn’t completely recovered to keep him close, he didn’t care. Beside her was exactly where he wanted to be.

When they stepped into the room with the seal he’d felt positively giddy. He reined himself in, if he reacted like this when he was pretending they were a couple what would it be like if they really were? He finally stepped onto the dais with her, holding her against his body as the magic lashed out releasing the demon.

He pulled back, drawing her with him. Wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her to him as he and the other’s dispatched the weakened demon. She’d be angry, but he wanted her safe and in her weakened condition he couldn’t be sure of it.

When it was dead she turned and looked at him, a smirk on her lips. “Really Anders? I’m not some fucking damsel you have to rescue.”

He shrugged, “How were you planning on fighting and staying close enough to me at the same time?”

The amusement disappeared from her eyes, “Were really fucked now, aren’t we?”

He shook his head, reaching out to caress her face. For the first time in a long time he actually felt hope, real hope. “We’ll be fine. Just be patient; let us take care of you for once instead of you looking out for all of us.”

“Blondie’s right, relax, regain your strength. We’re fine.” He shouldered Bianca and flashed Hawke a smile.

Taking her hand again he led her gently back to the dais. She stood in front of him as she had done before and he rested his hands on her shoulders. She untied the key and lifted it towards the pillar, the magic slamming into the key and into her so hard it actually knocked her back against him.

The magic was stronger than the last time, and seemed to be moving faster. It lit Anders up as well as her and Justice recoiled from the touch of it. Sweet Maker that feeling was amazing, the magic flowing back and forth through both of them.

He let his head fall back and a noise quite rather like a purr escaped his chest as he wrapped his arms completely around Hawke. All his pleasure centers were lit up, filled with what felt like the very essence of the woman he was holding. It was pure euphoria.

Hawke’s body actually bucked back against him for a moment and she cried out. He was glad he had a hold of her because her knees buckled before the magic had finished its round circuit. When at last it died down he took a few deep breaths.

The guilt came crashing back quickly, what he had just shared with her had been far more intimate than sex. What had he been thinking? First he nearly kills her, then he violates her? He made sure she could stand on her own two feet and let her go, pulling himself away from her with great effort.

She turned to look up at him, her eyes shining, “Was that you?” It was barely a whisper.

Wait, she’d felt him? “What did you feel?” The others were moving closer now so he positioned his body between them and her to afford them a little privacy.

She seemed at a loss, “I don’t know, it felt like your magic but it was inside me, like the key.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hating himself even more now.

She shook her head, “No, thank you. I don’t feel all strange and hollow this time.”

Opening the seals was unpleasant for her? The idea upset him, especially considering how much pleasure he’d gotten from it. “Do you still feel it then?” The idea of his magic inside of her both terrified and aroused him.

She shook her head, “No, it’s gone now. I just feel better than I did after the last two times.”

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Varric teased.

Hawke looked past him and smirked, “I was telling him that the next time he wants to be inside me, I’d prefer sex.”

Anders coughed awkwardly, the girl had no idea how close to his own thoughts her little joke had wandered. 

Varric chuckled, “I take it from his reaction he accepted?”

She stepped down, Anders right on her heels, “No, apparently it’s the magic and the dagger that do it for him, not me.”

Varric looked up at Anders with a smile and Anders rolled his eyes. Varric was always looking for something juicy to write about. If Isabela was to be trusted, and she rarely was, the dwarf had already written more than a dozen scenarios for Anders and Hawke finally giving in and becoming lovers. Each story apparently more salacious than the last and he supposed Varric had just gotten fodder for his next one.

As they walked out of the room and down the walkway he first felt, then saw Larius making his way towards him. Anders didn’t much care for Larius, whether it was because he was alive long past his time or the fact that he was so focused on Hawke he wasn’t sure. He just knew that if the bastard crossed them he’d be more than happy to end the miserable Warden’s life.

Larius stopped a few feet from them his eyes quickly looking from Hawke to Anders and back again before speaking. “He feels the seals weaken, he knows you are close. You must be ready.” He suddenly turned to look behind him, Anders felt them coming too. “What’s that? Who…no…no they’re here.”

Anders pulled Hawke closer to him, more Wardens likely meant trouble, especially if they’d purposely trapped themselves in the tower.

Hawke didn’t react to him moving her, she just sighed heavily at Larius, “Oh, who is it this time? Puddles the turtle? The Holy Cheese Wheel of Andraste?”

Larius was already backing away from them, ready to run. “The Wardens, they listen to Corypheus, they want to bring him the light. Stop them, you must stop them.” And with that he was off.

There were several Wardens that came around the corner towards them. They were lead by a woman, a mage. She was talking to the others and stopped when she caught sight of them. “Wait…you’re Hawke. Stroud told me he met you in the Deep Roads. Are you the same one, the child of Malcolm?” She took a few steps forward, and Anders had to stop himself from tightening his grip on Hawke. “The Carta said they were close. You must be her. I am Janeka, I lead this unit of Grey Wardens.”

Bethany stepped forward scowling, “Senior Warden, why are you interested in my father?”

Janeka looked at her with interest. “Then you don’t know. Without Malcolm, this prison would have fallen thirty years ago.”

Hawke gestured to the key dangling from her belt. “Let me guess, it had something to do with this fancy thing?”

Janeka nodded, “The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful Darkspawn we’ve ever encountered, but even the best magic fades. The Wardens need to reinforce the seals. This requires the blood of a mage untainted by…Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was your father.”

Hawke gripped his arm hard, “My father was a blood mage?”

Not noticing how upset Hawke was, Janeka shrugged nonchalantly, “To avert the Blights forbidden magics are sometimes necessary.”

Hawke remained silent watching as Bethany and Janeka spoke. Janeka trying to convince them that Malcolm Hawke performing blood magic was not a big deal. Then, failing that, beseeching Hawke to help her, using an argument to free Corypheus very like the one the Architect had apparently used to convince Alistair to join him.

Larius scurried out into full view of everyone, “Corypheus cares nothing for Blights. He used you.”

Janeka turned on him, spewing bitter vitriol about him being no better than a Darkspawn, while she was the one talking about freeing one. 

Anders bent down and whispered in Hawke’s ear while the others argued, weighing the pros and cons of each side. “Don’t do it Hawke. My brother made a deal with one of these and we still don’t know the consequences.”

The others argued a bit more and Hawke seemed to be listening closely although she didn’t interject personally. That was until Janeka alluded to binding Corypheus to her will. Hawke’s whole posture changed and Anders knew Janeka had lost.

“Are you talking about using blood magic?” She asked the Warden.

Janeka looked a bit smug as she responded, “Everything that was done to him was through the power of blood. The Wardens imprisoned him before the Chantry banned such magic. It is the only way to him.”

Larius shook his head, “They never bound him, only the walls. He cannot be held.”

Well that was certainly an important piece of information and only reinforced Anders’ fears. What kind of creature couldn’t actually be bound? And what kind of Darkspawn, once contained was still able to get Wardens to do his bidding? 

Hawke finally gave an answer, “Corypheus may be as great a risk as the next Blight. We can’t risk freeing him.”

Janeka sneered at her, “We’ll find a way to do this, with or without you Hawke. This prison will be broken, the Blights will end.” She threw up a wall of fire to block their way and disappeared along with the other Wardens behind it.

The rest of them followed Larius to try to reach Corypheus first, stopping along the way to activate the prison’s old wards in an attempt to slow down Janeka. They made their way through the labyrinthine halls quickly until Larius slowed them down signaling for them to be careful in the room filled with pillars.

“Do not touch anything. The old defenses are active again, very unpredictable, very dangerous.”

Of course as soon as he finished speaking a group of Carta dwarves ran into the room. One of them gestured to Hawke, “There, that’s the one Janeka wants dead.”

Anders felt anger flare to life inside him, they wouldn’t touch her.

She sighed tiredly beside him. “Didn’t we already kill them all?”

The dwarf ran forward towards a column as he signaled the others to go after Hawke. As he grabbed onto one of the metal rings circling the column and spun it Larius screamed for him to stop. By then, it was of course too late and magic sealed over both doorways.

He went to reach for Hawke, but she stepped in front of him fitting herself close against his body. “Do me a favor and kill those bastards, will you?”

He smiled, “With pleasure.” A flash of lightning brought them screaming to their deaths before they even reached Anders and the others. He was sure there was something wrong with how much he had enjoyed killing them at Hawke’s request, but at this point who cared.

Larius was tugging on his patchy hair and muttering to himself. “Trapped…Carta fools always where they don’t belong.” He paced back and forth still talking to himself, “There is a way out, deep down, a small memory, a fading thought. I’ve been here before. Yes…yes think, there must be a way. I was here once before, a long time ago.” He paused and looked up at Hawke and Anders could almost see the knowledge dawn in the man’s odd iridescent eyes. “The magic…the magic flows in streams. They must be joined for the way to open.” Then more excitedly, “Yes, yes that’s it”

Hawke nodded and sent Bethany and Varric to scout out the room and show her where the magic started on each side. He watched with an odd pride as she had them each turn a few of the metal rings and the magic joined, freeing them. “That’s my girl,” he murmured quietly, tickled when she beamed up at him with pride. He wasn’t sure he would have seen it that quickly.

They made haste, trying to make up for lost time. Larius trailed them making random comments about Hawke’s father. How he had been fascinated with the prison’s construction. That he was a learned man. Even that he hadn’t like Larius, claiming there was too much bad blood.

When he pushed opened a door and found Janeka waiting for them on the other side he was less than thrilled. He entered slowly, keeping Hawke behind him. She didn’t seem all that interested with him or Hawke though, focusing instead on Larius.

“Did you really think those old wards would stop me?” The Warden stalked menacingly towards Larius. “Look at you, barely able to string two thoughts together. You’ve only made it this far because of Hawke.”

Larius wasn’t intimidated by her, “You can still turn away; do not listen to his voice.”

She shook her head. “You’re a fool Larius, and you should have died here years ago.”

Hawke was suddenly tugging on his arm trying to pull him backwards with her, “Blood magic,” she hissed.

Janeka summoned a revenant and four arcane horrors before disappearing. The revenant gestured towards Hawke and her hand was suddenly gone from his arm. Panicking he grabbed for as she fell to the floor and started sliding towards the revenant. He missed, and didn’t get a chance to try again. 

She was too far away from him and the call that he had all but forgotten about from being in such constant contact with Hawke roared inside his head. It was so loud he thought his ears would bleed. He tried to move towards her but the pressure in his skull overwhelmed him and he succumbed to blackness.

********

Sekhmet heard her sister cry out Anders’ name. She looked and saw him crumpled and unconscious on the floor. The fury that had been boiling in her since Janeka had told her papa was a blood mage finally surfaced.

She stood with a scream unleashing a torrent attacks on the revenant that was just too slow to catch her. Varric was firing his bolts quickly one after another at the arcane horrors and her sister stood astride Anders’ prone form, protecting him with her body as she helped Varric. When at last they were all dead the revenant finally went down, as if the horrors had been sustaining him somehow.

She ran back to Anders, curling up on the floor beside him. She lifted him up shaking him and trying to rouse him but he wouldn’t wake. 

Bethany crouched down beside her, “Here, let me try.” Sekhmet moved out of the way and Bethany lashed out, slapping him across the face. “Anders, wake up!”

“Hey,” she started to yell at Bethany but Anders jerked awake in her arms.

His eyes opened and he smiled, “Mmm, nice.” Then he scowled and touched his cheek, “Oh, ow. I heal you when you’re passed out but you slap me?”

Bethany chuckled and stood up, “No, I did and you had it coming.”

He didn’t turn to look at Bethany, he was still staring at her and her heart was racing in her chest. The last few days with him had been so confusing. She wasn’t sure where they stood. Had he decided it wasn’t worth fighting anymore? Or was his constant proximity just because of Corypheus? And if she hadn’t been convinced before that he needed the constant contact, she was now.

Still, she thought she’d feel him out a little. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

His lips curled just the slightest, “Yes,” he whispered.

She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but was disappointed when he stiffened right before she made contact. Still, she kissed his reddened cheek dutifully before standing up trying to hide her disappointment. “Are we ready to go then?”

Anders stood up, close to her, but didn’t touch her. Bethany led the way with Varric bringing up the rear. And Sekhmet was glad; she was feeling a little worn after the fight. 

Finally, they came to the chamber at the top of the tower they had seen days ago, before entering the prison. Brass griffons proudly stood watch around it, strange amber magic swirling from their metal beaks towards the raised dais in the center. And of course, Janeka and the other Wardens were there waiting for them.

Janeka acted as if she had already won, just because she had gotten there first. “You’re too late Larius, hand over Hawke and I’ll give you a quick death.”

Did Janeka really think the poor shell of a man had a chance against her? He’d be dead before he’d taken three steps towards her. And from the way Anders was glaring at the man she doubted she’d be the one to end him.

Larius didn’t bother trying, “Hawke has made her choice, the right one.”

The female Warden’s eyes narrowed, “The right one, or the only one? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree.”

Larius was a little too quick with his response. “It’s the past. It doesn’t matter.”

Oh no, there was no way Sekhmet was going to let that one slide. “Larius? What does Janeka mean, not allowed?”

For the first time Larius seemed genuinely angry. “How does she know this? Alec did you tell her?” When he received no answer he reluctantly turned to Sekhmet, “Malcolm Hawke was reluctant, had to be persuaded. I was Warden Commander, it was my duty. I delivered an ultimatum, help us or you’ll never see her again.”

While she was still digesting what was said Bethany stepped forward, magic crackling in the air around her, “You threatened father?”

That wasn’t the worst part, not to Sekhmet at least. “You were going to kill our mother.”

Larius looked stricken, “No, never. He came with us. I never had to decide her fate. She was never told what passed between Malcolm and me.”

Bethany wasn’t placated, “That doesn’t make it better.”

Janeka seized the opportunity to try to change Sekhmet’s mind, “You see Hawke? How can you trust anything Larius says?”

How indeed? Larius hadn’t offered the information but when questioned readily admitted it. On the other hand Janeka held it in reserve until she thought she had no other way to sway Sekhmet to her side. Which still left her as the more duplicitous of the pair, not to mention that from the research they had found on the way here Janeka was more than likely compromised.

“He may be a bastard, and I may end him yet, but he’s still right about Corypheus.”

Janeka hadn’t been expecting that answer from the way her smile died on her lips. She pulled her staff from her back, “You can come willingly or not Hawke. I just need your blood.”

Another fight, more deaths, and she didn’t even get to vent her fury. Anders held her tight against him as the Wardens attacked. Realizing she wouldn’t get free without hurting him she decided to switch tactics and cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. She pulled some of her throwing knives free and used them instead of her daggers. That way she could still fight, and keep Anders happy at the same time. 

With the fight over Larius re-sheathed his sword and scurried past the dead Wardens, “He stirs. Slay him now before he wakes, before his strength comes.” He stopped and turned back staring intently at the key, “The key, something’s wrong, it’s not strong enough. Use your blood, free him and slay him.”

She exchanged an uneasy glance with Anders, had the two f them touching while she opened the seals weakened the key? And if it had affected the key that much, what else might be affected. Was there something Anders’ magic couldn’t sense going on inside them both now?

“I think we need to stop the magic from the griffons first.” Anders strolled walked over to one with her beside him. He gestured to the magic swirling in front of the chalice as it had on the etching within the prison that housed the smaller demons.

She reached out and touched it. Bracing herself for the magical pop she knew was coming. The magic snapped free and then dissipated, no longer flowing from the griffon’s beak. She quickly made her way to the next one and everyone except Larius followed her.

Once the magic had been released from the second griffon Bethany spoke up, “I suppose he won’t stop coming after us unless we do this.”

Was she serious? She’d come from Ansburg to stop the Carta from coming after her and now that they were here, a hairsbreadth from killing Corypheus she wanted to show him mercy? “If you like, we could leave a strongly worded note on his sarcophagus and go.”

Beth snorted in annoyance, “Maybe you can kill him while he’s laughing at your jokes.”

Sekhmet smiled and shrugged, “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

With the last griffon dispelled the four pillars surrounding the dais, which was apparently Corypheus’ sarcophagus, lit up. She had Anders stay on the ground while she mounted the steps, not wanting there to be any more problems with the key. She made sure to keep as close to him as she could.

She pulled her glove off and pushed her sleeve up a bit exposing the soft skin on her inner forearm. Feeling tension start to pool in her gut she quickly slid a knife across her skin, letting her blood drop into one of the channels on the dais. The whole thing lit up for a brief moment when her blood touched the stone.

The light shrank until it was only coming from the very center of the sarcophagus, very obviously flowing upwards. She didn’t like the feel of the magic, it was blood magic yes, but something else too, dark and ancient and clearly corrupted. And it was hungry, it wanted the key. It felt like it was trying to tug it free from her belt even though the key itself never moved.

She untied it and reached into the awful magic, placing the key in the center. It lifted minutely from her palm hovering in the air. It only lasted for a moment before the magic expanded outwards like a soap bubble shattering and knocking her clear off the dais and the key along with her.

She grabbed the key as Anders helped her to her feet, healing the shallow slice in her forearm as he did. And Corypheus was suddenly before them, rising slowly, swirling the same way the magic from the griffons had. He was terrible to look at. As if pieces of rock had fused themselves right to, and into his body. Skin stretched awkwardly over the stone in some places, but it didn’t seem to pain him. He seemed not to even notice.

He blinked and looked around him, “Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? I see no roads, all empty.” He finally looked down to where she, Anders and the others stood on the ground watching him in awe as he floated above the dais. “You, serve you at the Temple of Dumat? Bring me hence; I must speak with the first acolyte.”

Anders hissed beside her, “Hawke, we may have a problem here.”

Corypheus continued, “You look human. Are you not citizens of the empire? Slaves then, to the dwarves? Why come you here? Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees all of you.”

She would not be commanded to do any such thing, especially by a confused Darkspawn. And he was a Darkspawn; she could feel the taint in him from here. “You’re a Darkspawn,” She said it slower drawing it out, “Darkspawn, ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight. Does this ring a bell?”

Corypheus narrowed his gaze suspiciously, “You are what held me. I smell the blood in you.” Great, more raving about her blood just what she wanted to hear. He seemed to lose interest though, turning away from them and beseeching his lost god for answers. “Dumat, lord, tell me what waking dream is this?” He lifted his head as if he’d grasped a clear memory at last, “The light, we sought the Golden Light. You offered the power of the gods themselves. But it was black, corrupt. Darkness ever since. How long?” 

Sekhmet could have sworn he sounded sad. Was that possible?

Beside her Larius was staring agape at the creature. “The Golden city? The first violation? The magisters who brought the Blight.”

Was that who Corypheus was supposed to be? She wasn’t sure she even believed that story the Chantry crammed down everyone’s throat of how the Blights were created.

Anders snarled at Larius beside her, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re just regurgitating Chantry propaganda.”

She looked at him and he was practically humming with anger. She shrugged, “So he’s a Darkspawn, nothing more.”

Anders shook his head, “No, he’s not,” but offered no more on the subject.

Corypheus had turned back, watching them and their little exchange. “What manner of speech is this? How long have I slumbered?”

“He tainted the world. He speaks to all who carry the corruption, Darkspawn, Wardens. He brought Janeka here, brought you.” Larius didn’t seem to know whether to be afraid or awed.

“If he’s been calling the Wardens to free him, what’s his plan?” She looked back at Corypheus who was just staring at them. “He seems confused.”

“He slept, while the seals held he could not wake. He knows nothing of time that passed.” Larius started moving subtly away from Corypheus. “We must kill him now before he comes to.”

It was clear to her that Larius was going to bolt. She sighed, “Great, first he went after the Maker in his house and then me in mine. I suppose I should be honored.”

Corypheus was suddenly moving, shifting in the air, gathering magic to him. “The city, it was supposed to be golden, it was supposed to be ours.” He started descending from the dais towards Hawke, “If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you. I seek the light!” 

And then he was upon them. 

The battle was long and ridiculous. They spent most of the time running around in circles from different elemental spells Corypheus hurled at them, spells with huge power behind them, spells Sekhmet had never seen before. If it wasn’t for Anders they all would have died.

When Corypheus’ fire spell swept past them Anders had dragged her into one of the alcoves with the griffons and up the steps into the farthest corner screaming for the others to follow him and stand behind. The others got there just in time for Anders to throw up a shield to protect them, but holding it against the fire’s intense onslaught was clearly a strain on him.

After running around in circles, desperate to stay ahead of the fire, weaving around rock formation Corypheus conjured; dodging falling ice and evading the constantly changing walls of electricity Corypheus would get frustrated and come after them in close combat. Of course he never stayed long; Sekhmet and the others were able to inflict too much damage that way.

After running and fighting for so long she thought she would collapse Sekhmet got frustrated. She ripped the key from her belt and chucked it at Corypheus, not expecting to hit him, the thing was so poorly balanced. It flew more truly than one of her actual throwing knives though, burying itself deeply into Corypheus’ eye. He let out a grunt of pain and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

“Holy shit,” Varric called out walking over, still panting.

She looked at him, still in shock herself. “Yeah, I might just keep that after all.” She walked over to Corypheus, kicked him in the head to make sure he was dead much to the amusement of her friends then bent and pulled the blade from his skull, which was no easy task with the hooked end embedded in the bone. Anders silently reached down and helped her pull it free.

She stood up and looked at Anders closely. The man was still on edge, even with Corypheus dead. Was it because the Chantry had been right about the magisters and the Blights? “So, apparently the Chantry knew what they were talking about this time.”

He snorted, “Not really.” He shifted a little and crouched over Corypheus, pulling an amulet from his neck. He held it up to show it to her, “This amulet tells us he really is an ancient magister. It was unique to a small sect in Tevinter who worshipped the God Dumat.”

She was even more confused now, “I always thought the Black city was just a story. I mean, not that it excuses the Chantry punishing the mages over a thousand years later, but it just sounds so ridiculous. So, how can the Chantry be wrong if Corypheus really was a magister and went into the Golden city?”

Anders stood and glanced at Varric and Bethany before lowering his voice, “Ask me when we’re alone.” He gestured towards where Larius was obviously waiting for them on the bridge. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure you could use a break from me by now.”

She didn’t argue with him, he had to know better. She’d been enjoying their time together and their closeness, even if it had been forced. As a matter of fact she’d hoped it would make Anders realize that he wanted that all the time. She was starting to wish she had been the one to slap him while he was unconscious.

Larius smiled when she reached him. “You did well Hawke, more than the Grey Wardens of old were able to accomplish. I will tell the Warden Commander of your service here.”

Bethany scowled at him, “I don’t think we’re supposed to come back from the Calling.”

He nodded faintly, “I must try.” He gaze moved back to Sekhmet, “You’ve gained an ally today.”

She eyed him suspiciously, “Why are you talking like that?”

He smiled again; she was sure it was meant to be reassuring but just looked gruesome on him. “My head is clear now, without Corypheus’ call I can think again. Thank you for my freedom.”

Perhaps it was just her exhaustion clouding her judgement but it sounded reasonable to her. “An ally huh? And here I thought I just gained a headache.”

“I will never forget what you did here. The prison stands no more.” Larius turned and walked away, he was actually standing upright and his gait was much smoother. “My gratitude you have for my freedom”

She turned back to Anders and the others and they all looked a little worse for wear. The prison had dragged them all through the Void, changing them each in some way and from the looks of it, not for the better. At the very least they needed to try to rest. “Anders, Varric throw that corpse over the side will you? I mean check it first, you know that, but get rid of it. We’re setting up camp here, it’s already dark and I’m exhausted.”

With them dealing with Corypheus’ corpse she decided to help Bethany with setting up tents. “Beth, thank you for watching over Anders back there.”

Beth gave her a small, tired smile. “He makes you happy.”

She nodded, “Sometimes.”


	39. No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a link in the middle of this for people who started reading this chapter at Deviant Art, there is no need to click on it as it just links to a cleaner version of this chapter.

Bethany was sitting in the library when she came downstairs. They’d decided to travel straight through the night before so they wouldn’t have to camp out again. Everyone had been more than ready to get home. So she and Bethany had strolled in shortly before dawn.

They’d woken Bodahn so he would let their mother know they were home when she woke and then they’d collapsed. It was late afternoon by the looks of it outside when Sekhmet had finally managed to drag herself out of bed. She found Bethany and settled down on the couch beside her.

“Morning.”

Beth smiled, “Not quite.”

“How long have you been up?” She asked, her sister looked like she was wide awake.

“A couple of hours, I had to pack. I’m leaving tonight.”

Sekhmet sighed, “Already? I thought we might enjoy a day together without all of the fighting for our lives crap.”

“Have we ever had a day like that?” 

“Beth,” it was a soft admonishment.

“Sorry, you’re right. Another Warden will be passing through and we’re going to travel together. It’s safer, so yes, I have to go.” She looked into the fire and sighed, looking much older all of a sudden. “It’s amazing how the past always haunts us. “ When she looked back at Sekhmet she was actually smiling a little. “Tempting the Blight is apparently a theme for our family. One glorious day we’ll learn to leave well enough alone.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “No we won’t.”

Bethany joined her, “You’re probably right.”

They both fell quiet and Sekhmet felt a deep melancholy steal over her. She and Bethany still hadn’t figured out how to fix the gulf between them. They were both alright on the surface, but underneath Bethany was still angry with her. And she was still raw and emotional after hearing father’s voice and knowing what he had done in order to spare mother’s life, mother’s and apparently hers as well.

“I miss papa.” She sighed.

Bethany was clearly surprised. Sekhmet wasn’t usually one to talk about her feelings, especially her feelings where their father was concerned. “I thought he knew everything.” She fell quiet for a long time. “I used to cry to Carver. As soon as we were done training for the day he went looking for you, his little scoundrel.” A sad smile touched her lips, “I used to think he loved you more than he did the rest of us.”

“But not anymore?” Carver had thought that, right until the day he had died.

She shook her head, “No, he worried for you. You hated Lothering, were always in fights and were never afraid of anything. When you started leaving the house more and more I learned that the tension in the house wasn’t that he was angry you weren’t there, he was just scared you wouldn’t come home. Oldest or not you were still his little girl.”

She felt tears threaten and let them come. She’d never told anyone that the fear she’d seen on his face was the reason she always came back. Even when she knew he’d be disappointed or cross with her she came back because he would always forgive her. Even when she’d thought it would be easier for everyone, especially Carver, she hadn’t been able to stay away. She couldn’t hurt her father like that. 

Neither of them spoke again, they just stayed and watched the fire and eventually her tears stopped. And sometime later there was a knock at the door and Bethany got up, slung her pack over her shoulder and left without a word. Sekhmet had been about to go find some food when Bethany came running back.

She hugged Sekhmet tight. “He loves you, sis. He’s too stupid, or scared, or stubborn to tell you, but he does. Anders loves you.” She kissed her on the cheek and ran out again.

Sekhmet just stood there stunned. Had Anders confessed his feelings to Bethany? And now that she knew what should she do? Should she confront him and see if she could force a confession from him?

Her mother strolled into the room with a smile, having no idea of how completely upside down Bethany had just turned Sekhmet’s life. “You’re not so different, not beneath. I see so much of Malcolm in you both. Apparently, even in my dotage I know him better now than I did at the time. Much like you, he kept so many secrets. And…I may have been willfully blind. He sheltered me from a lot of ugliness and I let him.”

She’d decide what to do with Anders when she could actually think. Her mother was actually opening up a bit about her father and she was curious to hear as much as she could. “How did you even meet, a Ferelden apostate and Kirkwall elite?”

“He wasn’t an apostate when I met him. He was actually in the Circle here in Kirkwall.” She walked to the sofa and sat down, patting the spot next to her for Sekhmet to join her. “Mages were sometimes called to perform at the Viscount’s functions.” Her eyes twinkled at the happy memories making her look younger. “Malcolm was not what I pictured, such a wit. Never had a straight answer for anything, but so alive. Very like you.” She sighed a little sadly, “But it was so long ago. We have a new life and we must think of tomorrow. Malcolm gave us that.”

Sekhmet nodded, “He made do with what was at hand, frighteningly at hand, but still.”

Her mother’s eyes were far off again, “He was never one to let the scale of a problem defeat him.” She smiled at Sekhmet again, her gaze returning to the present as well. “He met such things point for point. A horrific victory I think he’d say, with much better command of the phrase. Oh, those days, all of us in that simple place.” She suddenly stood, “Well, that’s neither here nor there is it? This life, we have to make the best of it. And thanks to him…and you, I will.” With that she swept from the room.

Sekhmet knew the memories were just too much for her mother sometimes. She wanted to move forward with her life but it was hard when your children were always reminding you of the past. Her mother would disappear into her rooms for a few hours to work through everything before emerging as if nothing had happened.

In the meantime, Sekhmet was going to get something to eat before she was waylaid again.

********

Anders wasn’t doing well, he’d become afraid of his dreams. Every night he drifted off and woke with Hawke’s name on his lips. Something he’d been doing since the night they’d killed Corypheus. He’d awoken alone in his tent, heart racing, craving her touch. In his dream she’d been carted off by Darkspawn and he’d been unable to help her. For every monster he’d slain two more had taken its place.

He had hoped no one had heard him, but the concerned looks Varric kept giving him the following morning had killed that slim hope. And so, he hadn’t slept again on the way back. He’d then foolishly hoped that once he was safely ensconced within his clinic away from Hawke he would finally be able to sleep. But she had haunted his dreams every time his eyes even began to drift closed.

Justice was pricklier than usual, angry that Hawke was invading so many of Anders’ thoughts. So much so that Anders hadn’t dared to open the clinic since their return to the city. And nothing seemed to push the white tressed vixen from his dreams.

He glanced up when he heard the door open, breath catching in his throat when he realized it was her and that she was alone. He grabbed the stack of parchment he had been drawing on and shoved them into the drawer. Heart hammering, he stood and walked towards her. She couldn’t be here today, he just couldn’t take it. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff, nearly cross.

She paused, eyes roving over him making his skin hot. “Are you alright?”

The hair on the back of his neck and his arms stood up at the sound of her voice. “Don’t ask me that today.”

She started walking towards him again. “Has something happened? Should I get the others?”

His hand raked back through his hair as he turned away from her, his insides were knotting. “No, everything is fine. Just…fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

Get her out, he needed to get her out and away from him, he was too raw, too sleep deprived and definitely too damned needy. He whirled around, “What are you doing here, Hawke?”

“I came to see you, can’t I visit a friend?” That sweet voice of hers trying to soothe him.

He snorted, friends, they were everything but friends. “I’m busy today.” She glanced around the room and before she could speak he took a step towards her, “I do more than just heal people.”

She nodded, her eyes a looking at him curiously, “I know.”

“Then you should go.” He was snapping at her again, his frayed nerves making his tongue sharp.

“Are you angry with me?”

Angry? No, he was in love with her, obsessed with her. He needed something to break her hold. There had to be something he could cling to that would put some distance between them. 

He stepped closer again, barely registering the fact that he had moved. “Why do you do it, Hawke? Month after month, year after year you help the mages, make the others help them. For what purpose?” _“Give me something, anything, just the tiniest reason to put you and this obsession behind me.”_

She took a half step backwards and he only realized at the movement that he had advanced on her again. “You know why.”

“Bethany’s a Warden now and a damned good one; you don’t need to protect her anymore.”

“She’s not the only one who needs protecting.”

He took another step forward, she smelled so good. “So, are you planning on fighting until every mage in the Gallows is free?”

She shook her head.

He was looming over her again and she took another half step backwards. “You’ve seen what I am Hawke, seen the things I’m capable of. I don’t need a little thing like you to protect me.”

She knew he was trying to push her away now, he could see it on her face as her chin stubbornly jutted out. “I plan on fighting until every mage in Thedas is free. I know you and Justice can protect yourself.”

“Then why are you always here? Are you waiting for them to come for me so you can kill more Templars?”

She reached out to touch his face, “Anders.”

“No, don’t touch me.” He growled.

He watched her as she caressed his face anyways, “I come here because I can’t stand to be away from you.”

His eyes drifted closed, her fingers were so soft against his cheek and his skin was crying out for more. “You can’t be here, Hawke.” His voice was quiet and tremulous. He was going to lose control of himself at any moment.

“Why not?” She whispered, a teasing smile on her lips. She knew what she was doing to him.

“Because I’m a man, Sekhmet, not a toy.” He was pleading with her for mercy, even though he suspected that where he was concerned she was out of that particular commodity.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re a man. Trust me.”

“You are the most exasperating, most frustrating, most…” he trailed off when she touched his lips briefly before she dropped her hand to his shoulder.

“You used my name. Say it again.” Her eyes were wide with surprise, darkened with desire.

And without a thought he did, “Sekhmet,” he heard the desire in his voice that time. “You really should go.”

She stepped closer, resting her other hand on his other shoulder. “I’d rather stay here with you.” 

“Please.” He barely got the sound past his gritted teeth.

Pain flickered in her eyes again as she looked down and her skin flamed red. She gave a stiff nod, moving around him heading for the door. A part of him panicked, certain that she wouldn’t be able to take the pain of his constant rejections anymore. He gripped her arm, pulling her back towards him, “Stay,” he barely had the word out before he turned her to face him. His hands reached out to cup her face and his head descended to kiss her.

He groaned at the contact, four years of wondering what her lips would feel like. It was a desperate kiss, but he had no power to stop it. It wasn’t enough; he angled his head, his tongue sweeping light across her lips, begging entrance. Her arms wrapped around his neck just as her lips parted for him. She tasted like she smelled, wild and unrestrained. 

Kissing her reminded him of a summer storm in Amaranthine. He didn’t ever want to stop kissing her, four years, four long years. He was such a bloody fool thinking he could ever stay away from her, that he could live without her like this.

She was so short kissing was awkward with them both standing. Always a problem solver, he gripped her waist and lifted her, pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist, and it felt so good. Her hands were in his hair tugging out the leather thong and running through the long strands. He couldn’t stop his moan. 

Sweet Maker, just a damned kiss but it was divine. 

He couldn’t wait to be inside of her, he’d dreamed about it more than enough. He headed towards his room, their mouths still entwined, both of them panting softly. He froze, realizing what he was about to do. He found himself hard pressed to pull away but he couldn’t do this here, not with her. Darktown was no place for her. He tore his mouth away from her, “No,” he swallowed and tried to clear his head.

She colored, looking down and away from him again and dropped her legs from around his waist and moved her arms to brace her hands against his arms. “Fine, put me down and I’ll go.” 

He obliged setting her carefully on her feet, still reeling and trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to do. Maybe he should just let her leave, try to salvage their friendship. Could she still forgive him? Could he forgive himself after that kiss?

“I’ll leave you alone from now on.” A tear slipped down her cheek but she made no move to wipe it away or hide it.

“Giving up on me then?” He tried to make it sound light, he wanted her to smile, he wanted to fix this, there had to be a way to fix it.

And he did get a smile, though not the one he had hoped for. It was sad and self deprecating. “Not you, me.” With that she turned and headed towards the door. 

He knew now, no doubt in him at all; he’d never see her again. His heart screamed and he couldn’t help but respond to its desperate call. “Hawke, wait.”

“No more waiting.”

“No, don’t leave, please.” He sprinted to her and caught her around the waist, pulling her back against him and holding her tight. He thought he’d weep with relief just to have her back in his arms, even after just those few seconds. 

She tugged his arms until he loosed them and slumped to her knees on the floor, “What more do you want, Anders? You have my heart and my soul. You dominate all my thoughts. My body burns for you every damn day. Is it blood? Is that what you want, my blood? Fine.”

Shocked at her little rant, he almost missed her grabbing the knife from her belt. He dropped to his knees behind her and grabbed her knife, cutting himself in the effort to stop her from hurting herself. “Time, just a few more hours, that’s all I want.” 

He kissed the top of her head. “I know it’s asking a lot, on top of all the time you’ve already given me. Let me come to you tonight when we’ve both had a chance to think.” He used his free hand to push her hair out of the way as he kissed and nuzzled her neck. “If you still want this, want me,” he felt her tense and realized she thought he was offering her just sex again, “ _all_ of me, leave your door open tonight and I will come to you. If it is shut I will know that you finally came to your senses.”

She finally relaxed leaning back against him. “You promise you’ll come? You’re not just saying that to get me to go quietly?”

“I promise.” He whispered against her hair. He wouldn’t be able to stay away from her now if he wanted. “Besides, you were leaving quietly before I came after you.” He let go of the knife finally.

“And by ‘all of you’ you mean it’s not just sex?” 

He’d been the one to make her doubt herself so much, him and his inability to give her what she needed while simultaneously not being able to stay away from her. He’d spent four years ripping the poor girl’s self confidence to shreds. And now he’d spend as much time as she allowed him trying to make it up to her. “Not just sex, I care for you.”

She took a long shuddery breath and re-sheathed the knife. She turned to face him, and took his hand carefully looking at the cuts “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He shook his head and kissed her chastely on the cheek, not trusting himself for anything more. “No, I’m sorry I hurt you.” He stood and let a little flare of healing magic take care of the cuts before he helped her to her feet. “Before you go I want to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourself into. As long as you’re with me you’ll be hunted. We’ll both be hated; there is no hope for a little house with a garden. You’ll never be completely safe. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

He smiled just the smallest bit, “I can’t even begin to imagine how Justice will react.”

She gave him a shrug with a smile, “We’ll find a way to deal with it.”

********

He had fought with himself, or Justice, for hours before finally going to her. He had been terrified that she would have closed the door but almost more afraid that she would leave it open. Slipping into the house quietly, he walked up the stairs. He spotted Bodahn but the dwarf only nodded and moved down the stairs. Clearly, he was expected.

She was standing in front of the fire, her arms wrapped around herself. He paused for a moment thinking that she looked terribly vulnerable standing there; he hushed the voice whispering that this was a bad idea. It didn’t matter, he had tried to resist for nearly four years and all his resolve had dissolved as soon as he touched her lips. No matter what, he knew he couldn’t turn back now, not now that he’d had a taste of what he had been dreaming of for so long. Taking a deep breath he walked into the room.

As he came in she turned to him and she hesitantly smiled. “You’re here, I wasn’t sure you would come.”

He was surprised by how nervous she seemed, not that he was faring much better. He let himself smile, just a little; perhaps it would calm them both. “Justice does not approve of my…obsession with you.” His smile turned slightly sardonic, “He believes you’re a distraction.” He crossed the room to where she stood, his fingers itching to touch her, and his heart on the verge of breaking. “It is one of the few things on which he and I disagree.”

He watched as a measure of confidence seemed to settle around her like a shawl at his declaration. Had she been afraid he would run again? Turn away and pretend the kiss had not undone him completely, had not branded him as hers to his very soul? Did she not feel in that kiss how much he now belonged to her? 

“If you hadn’t come, I’d be out looking for you.” And though she said it teasingly, seeing the look in her eyes, he had no doubt it was true. She must have felt it, felt how that kiss had changed both of their lives forever. 

It felt almost surreal being here, not for a quick night of passion, not for some tryst in a darkened corner, but because he loved her and she seemed to feel the same. He wanted to give voice to it, to the wonder of it, but the words came out in a tumble, a mess that didn’t really convey everything. “When I was in the Circle, love was only a game. It gave the Templars too much power if there was something you couldn’t stand to lose.” 

He turned away from her gaze, so open and earnest, and nervous. A shiver ran up his spine as he realized he was making it more complicated than it needed to be. He didn’t need to convince her of how important this night was, she was already laying her heart open and naked before him. It made him ache, and the rest became simple. “It would kill me to lose you.”

She stepped towards him and touched his arm softly, “This isn’t going to fix that.” 

She was right, nothing would ever fix that, he knew that whether his body lived or not, if he were to lose her now he would be dead. His soul was tied to hers and would follow her even into death. And though he might still breathe he would be an empty husk without her. 

He was out of excuses and reasons to stop this, she had cast them all aside over the years. And he was so clearly powerless to stop how he felt. Cupping her face, he stepped closer to her again, his heart beating faster in his chest, anxiousness clawing at his stomach. 

He lowered his head and kissed her again softly, gently this time. Holding his need in check, he was not some chantry virgin about to lay with his first woman. He was a full grown man who was about to make love to the woman who held his heart. 

He wanted to remember every moment, every touch, every sigh. And as he fell into the kiss, into the taste of her, the feel and smell of her it felt as if his heart stopped, and he died only to be reborn again. Fashioned anew, not a possessed apostate, but just a man standing before the woman he loved and offering her everything. 

She broke the kiss, but before he could protest she drew him towards the bed. She was graceful, almost catlike as she slid along its length pulling him with her. He almost laughed when he realized he was still nervous. Had he ever been nervous with a lover before? He thought not. 

Resting his weight beside her on the bed as he leaned over her, his lips grazed across hers again. An exhalation of breath ghosted across his smile and when he looked into her eyes he saw his own anxiousness staring back up at him. His long fingers traveled up along her thigh, bunching up the fabric of her skirt and caressing the soft skin there. He barely noticed her toeing off her boots as he caressed her.

He let his fingers linger, tracing slow circles over the warm silken flesh. How many times had he touched her skin when healing her and never let the touch linger for fear of losing himself? Just his body resting against hers was a relief, tangible evidence that this was real, not some dream or fantasy that Justice could wrest away from him. 

He felt her fingers in his hair; she pulled the leather thong loose letting his golden strands fall around them and ran her fingers through them as they kissed. He smiled against her mouth a little, he had dreamed of doing the same to her countless times. 

Her fingers massaged his scalp and he couldn’t help but to hum appreciatively. He lifted his head, pushing it into her hand a little more fully, Maker it felt so good. He used to…he loved it when someone ran their fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. It was such a small, but intimate gesture.

She broke the kiss and he had to stop himself from bending down and kissing her again immediately. Her fingers still intertwined in his hair, she kissed his throat, soft gentle kisses that sparked blooms of warmth within him. He hummed in pleasure again, his eyes drifting shut, as she pushed his collar aside and nuzzled his neck. 

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed just being touched. Only Sekhmet had really dared touch him since he had left Ferelden, and he hadn’t been able to enjoy those touches. The few times he had, had been disasters. He had feared her touch, feared it would make her vulnerable to being hurt by him, possibly worse. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at Sekhmet. She smiled at him, a languid contented smile and it was all for him, all because of him. He moved away from her to kneel on the bed beside her and pulled her gently upright so she was sitting. 

He wanted to see her, wanted to revel in every inch of her alabaster skin. Grabbing the bottom of the tunic she was wearing he slid it carefully off and tossed it out of the way. His gaze traveled over her pale skin and as he took in the sight she reached behind herself to untie her breast band. It slithered away from her skin with a soft whisper. 

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, and she was, her skin crisscrossed with pale white scars. Her smallish breasts capped with the wine colored nipples he remembered and the knotted purple scar. Her thin frame, flat abdomen, the fine musculature of her arms and the white column of her neck made her almost look sculpted of white marble. His fingers traced lightly over each feature as he drank her in. “Beautiful,” he whispered again, at a loss for anything else to say.

She watched him as he caressed her flesh and when his fingers halted so he could dip down to kiss her skin she smiled again, “You have me at a disadvantage.” She reached forward and started on the buckles of his coat.

He moved his hands to help her. He wanted more than anything to feel her skin against his own. His fingers worked quickly and his coat slid off his shoulders to be discarded by her tossing it off the side of the bed unceremoniously.

He thought for a moment about protesting, the coat had been abused enough, but honestly he just wanted to get the rest of their clothing off. He didn’t have much time to contemplate it anyways as her hands were sliding the thin under tunic he wore up over his head. She cast it away with the same nonchalance she had used on his coat and he chuckled realizing that she was as impatient as he.

He gasped as her cool fingers touched his chest, his eyes closing again relishing the feel of her fingers on him. If she was the only woman to ever touch him as long as he lived he’d be quite happy. His skin was warm and flushed with excitement. 

Her fingers almost immediately stilled and he looked down to see what had caused her to stop. He tried not to shift away from her touch as her eyes fixed on the scar in the center of his own chest. She had seen it before, she must have, but she seemed to just be noticing it now. 

She traced her finger down the scar in almost the exact center of his chest. “Anders?” Her voice was quiet, tentative.

He gave her a small smile, he didn’t want to think about that scar, about the day he had received it. He just wanted to treasure this moment with her in this room, on this bed. “A reminder of my mortality.”

“How did you…” her voice trailed off as his fingers closed around hers.

“Not tonight please, no bad memories tonight.” He heard the plea in his voice and hoped she did too, but found his own fingers drawn to her own scar. His heart clenched in his chest aching and the words escaped him as quickly as they had crossed his mind. “You’ve been fighting for a long time.”

A sad smile touched her lips, “My father and sister were apostates, remember? I had to fight to keep them free.”

Anders felt his throat tighten; every day she was with him she would feel the need to keep him free. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

She snuggled close to him and kissed along his jawline. “You can leave if you like; I won’t force you to stay.” She moved to kiss down the column of his throat, her breasts gently brushing against his chest. “But I would be fighting to help mages anyway.” She gripped his wrist and brought his hand to her waist. “And I would do anything to keep you free, whether you stay or not.”

He tightened his arm around her waist and tipped her chin up to capture her lips with his own. How many times would she break his heart tonight? He knew it was already too late. They were both too far gone to stop fighting now, but a small part of him always held onto that glimmer of hope that she could have a normal life someday, with someone. 

Her lips were faintly chapped when he kissed her and he thought again of Amaranthine, of the fierce thunderstorms that whipped across the coast in summer. Her calloused fingers trailed down his spine, making him shudder against her.

She pulled out of the kiss, her lips still touching his. “No bad memories,” she whispered and kissed him again.

No, tonight he wanted to make new memories, good memories. His fingers made their way to the tie on her skirt and he loosened it. Before he said anything she broke the kiss and sat back resting her weight on her elbows and lifting her hips. Excitement and arousal coursed through him again and his cock stiffened as he slipped both the skirt and her smalls off her.

As soon as her legs were free she sat back up and reached for the laces of his trousers. He reached to help her but she gently pushed his hands aside so instead he let his fingers caress her. His need was growing rapidly and he tried to tamp it back down. He didn’t want to rush this, not with her. He took a slow breath as she moved back so he could swing his legs out from under himself.

She looked up at him curiously and he just smiled, what was he supposed to say, that he wanted to push her onto her back and take her already, that this slow undressing felt like it was killing him? She smirked back at him as if she had read his thoughts then bent back to untie his boots.

“Part of me wants to forget the rest of your clothes and just climb onto your lap and let you take me.” She looked up again, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

He chuckled, “You are not helping.”

“Sorry.” She murmured as she pulled off his first boot.

She didn’t sound sorry at all, as a matter of fact she sounded quite pleased with herself. “Liar,” he teased back.

The laces on his second boot were loosened much faster than the first and the boot was soon joining the first on the floor. He was enjoying her body as she moved, the muscles sliding under her pale skin, the subtle curves of her body. When she tugged on his trousers he lifted his hips for her as she had done for him. She paused with his trousers pulled down to mid thigh, her gaze shifted up to his face then back down again and he almost groaned when he realized what she was looking at.

She giggled, “Really, a dragon Anders? Someone’s awful full of himself.” Her fingers traced the serpentine figure that graced his lower abdomen above his groin and below his navel. 

He was sure he would find it much more amusing if the offending tattoo wasn’t interrupting a night that was nearly four years in the making. “I was young.”

“And arrogant apparently.”

He raised a brow, “Hey, you have nothing to judge whether I was arrogant or not at the time. Why don’t you wait until we actually do something before you pass judgment? And speaking of which, let’s get these trousers off shall we?” He started tugging them down but Sekhmet flashed him another smile and began to tug them down herself. 

Being cheeky she bent down and kissed the dragon tattoo making Anders’ muscles ripple under the skin from the light touch. His desire was almost overwhelming, it was ridiculous how much he wanted this and he had to struggle to keep himself from flipping them over and burying himself inside of her immediately.

Trying to slow his breathing again he sat up and pulled her close. She traced her fingers over the tattoos wrapped around his biceps and gingerly touched the one twined around his throat. Anders flinched, and felt a surge of anger again that even now, even this moment with the woman he loved was tainted by Templars. 

Sekhmet touched his right cheek, the one without the tattoo and looked into his eyes a little sadly. “I’m sorry, I won’t touch them anymore.”

He took her fingers and kissed them. “Touch them all you like. All but that one, it’s another bad memory.”

She nodded and leaned forward to kiss him softly and he let his fingers wander to her side to stroke over the tattoo he had glimpsed there before a few times. He would have to take the time later to really appreciate it, but for now all he could think about was how badly he wanted her. He knew his body couldn’t take a slow perusal; he was struggling as it was to hold his composure.

She moved forward until she was sitting astride his lap, facing him and his cock twitched between them, needy and hungry. He hissed in surprise when he felt her cool fingers wrap around him. “Sekhmet,” he pleaded, worried he would lose control of himself if she kept tracing her fingertips over the superheated flesh.

A slight shiver ran through her and her hands moved to cup his face and tilt it to look at her. Her eyes were shining like she was near tears. “Say it again, Anders, please. Say my name again.”

He touched her cheek lightly, suddenly concerned, his desire subsiding somewhat at the sight of her tears. “Are you…are you alright, love?”

She licked her lips and blinked rapidly for a moment, “Yes, I…say it again so I know it’s real. Say my name, please.”

Had he realized, even after that mess in the clinic how much it bothered her that he never used her name? Not even close, nothing like this, and he was more than happy to say it again. He would whisper it to her a thousand times if she wanted. 

He smiled and reached for the pins still holding her hair back from her face. The first pin slid free and he leaned forward, his lips barely touching hers, “Sekhmet,” he whispered. He dropped the pin and reached for another, his eyes holding hers as he wiggled it free. “My beautiful Sekhmet,” he kissed her again. Dropping the pin, he reached for the last one and pulled it free, “Sekhmet, my little lioness.”

A tear slipped from her eye and she pulled him close and kissed him fiercely, her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth. The heat, the want, the need flooded back into him with it and he let her kiss him. She pulled back to catch her breath and started kissing his jaw.

“Thank you, Anders.” She was trembling in his arms. “Thank you.”

She pressed herself close against him and her fingers sought out the flesh of his back as she kissed and nuzzled his neck. He held her close against him with one arm, his body not willing to lose contact with her now that they were touching skin to skin as he explored her body with his other hand.

Her narrow waist and the slight swell of her hips were like kindling as he touched them. He wanted to touch every part of her, caress every inch of her flesh, but knew he’d never be able to manage it. Not right now at least. 

Their bodies pressed together and he kept thinking how much he needed this, needed her, over and over. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breathing was speeding up. Maker, how had he lived with this so close and out of reach for so long?

His hand left her waist as he cupped her breast with one hand, and her neck with the other steering her into another searing kiss. It was hot and frantic, their breaths mingling and he needed to hear it. Needed to hear her say again what he had only heard once before. 

Oh, the two of them were so terribly damaged, broken by choices they’d made lifetimes ago that Fate was still exacting its toll for. They were starving for any kindness for confirmation they weren’t worthless. Desperately looking for any sign that they were loved, that there was at least one person who could truly love them. Both drowning, this thing between them the closest to saving they would ever get. Clinging to each other, pulling each other down to sink below the waves of madness.

He broke from the kiss gasping and needy, far too needy, “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” she gasped out before kissing him again, her lips crushing against his. Her hands near frantic as she pulled him tighter and tighter against her, before breaking again briefly. “I love you, Anders.” She whispered, her hands moved to his hair as she rose up on her knees, tilting his head back. She plundered his mouth again for a quick moment, stopping only to repeat “I love you.” It was a chant, a mantra, an affirmation punctuated by kisses that grew in intensity until it shattered him apart inside. He was left with nothing but the craving for the feel of her, the need to be inside of her.

His hands cupped and massaged her breasts, the soft flesh pressing into his palms and yielding to the easy pressure, the rolling of his fingers. He pulled her down, trapping his cock between them, needing the friction, some sort of relief to the need growing in him from sparks to flame. She started rolling her hips against him and he moaned, he needed to claim her.

He broke from her kisses and held her hips still, resting his head on her shoulder and tried to rein in his rapid breathing. 

Sekhmet stilled and rubbed his neck lightly. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, still unable to speak.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded concerned and her breathing was slowing down.

“Nothing, I need to gather myself, I don’t want this over so fast.” At this rate it was going to be over and done in just a few minutes.

She giggled quietly and kissed his head. “It’s alright, it’s not like we can’t do it again.”

“I don’t want us remembering our first time as being over before it really started.” His breathing had started to return to normal even as his cock twitched against her abdomen again, wanting more, wanting to be inside of her, to be filling her.

“I don’t know, I think I can live with the memory that we wanted each other so much the first time we weren’t able to control ourselves.” She smiled at him when he looked up at her. 

“I want you to enjoy it.” He whispered.

She raised a brow, “Have I been giving you the impression I haven’t been enjoying myself?”

He slipped his hand between them sliding it down to the shortly trimmed white hairs between her legs. “There’s so much more I can do for you, can make you feel.” He wanted this to be good, for both of them.

She pulled his hand away from her sex and kissed him again, slowly, softly this time and laced her fingers with his, their hands palm to palm. Then took his other hand and did the same thing. He relaxed into the kiss, into the gentle rock of her lips against his. Slowly, she rose up onto her knees again and arched her back. 

He jerked and gasped in surprise when he felt the wet heat of her sex brushing against the head of his cock. He tried to pull his hands free but she held him tight and looked down into his eyes as she moved until he was at her entrance. Slowly, she lowered herself and he felt himself pressing into her. Her body stretched to take him centimeter after centimeter until his cock was completely engulfed inside of her. Once he was buried inside of her and she was sitting completely in his lap he released the breath he had been holding so he wouldn’t just surge up into her. 

She was tight, surprisingly tight. He wondered briefly how long it had been since she had been with a man. He knew she was no blushing virgin. But who she had been with and when was not something he wanted to think about right now. Still watching each other she began to move, holding his hands captive in hers so he couldn’t touch her, all he could do was make love to her, and watch her react to it.

Her mouth was open slightly as she rode him, as he moved his hips up and down in tandem with her. It was intense, watching each other like this. His whole world was her eyes, her hands, her walls gripping him tightly. Every heart beat, every breath was filled with the feel, the scent and the sight of her, the woman he loved.

He pressed forward to kiss her again and the kiss was soft, gentle and sweet, a tenderness he had not shared with anyone in years, it was almost odd to let himself feel so much. He could feel her heart beating in her chest as they slowly rocked together. Her heart beat as fast as his, racing in her chest, a testament that their slow sensuous lovemaking was affecting her as much as it was him.

He had no idea how long they stayed like that, bodies locked together, hands intertwined, lips and tongues entangled. Every motion, made him ache more, made him need more, more contact, more touch and more friction. His hips lifted more frantically as he felt the tension growing in both of their bodies. He shuddered and closed his eyes when she pulled away and nipped at his shoulder.

Her hips started moving in circles as she continued to rock on him. He tugged on her hands to pull her forward a bit and angled his hips more seeking the soft spongy spot within her, hoping to bring her to orgasm before he came himself. She moaned, tossing her head back and squeezed his hands tighter when he found it. 

She began to lose her calm and started riding him recklessly, plunging down on him harder and faster, her breathing coming in fast gasps. She licked her lips, moans slipping from her almost incessantly and he felt her body start to tense. His orgasm was fast approaching and he just hoped she finished first.

Her back arched, her breasts bouncing with her movement and he was mesmerized for a moment until a longer moan escaped from her. His eyes snapped back to her face, “Look at me.” His words were barely more than a whisper and he was glad she seemed to have heard him.

Her head canted forward again and she stared into his eyes. The crystalline blue was hazed over with pleasure, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses and her loose hair framed her face beautifully. She looked nothing like he had imagined all those nights, but somehow it made it even better. He had done that to her, made her look so blissful, so debauched.

His balls tightened and he was about to use a bit of magic to hold back his orgasm but her body suddenly bucked and jerked and his name came from her in a throaty growl as her sex spasmed around him and a rush of fluids coated his cock before his own orgasm overtook him. It was harder than he thought to keep his eyes open, to stare into her eyes as he spilled himself inside of her. 

********

[Click to return to DeviantArt](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-No-More-383467042#FromAO3)  
********

Once it passed they sat there, not moving and silent, just watching each other breathing hard. Eventually, as his heart stilled a bit she smiled, “That was…incredible.”

He nodded, still not quite together enough for words, it had been incredible. She was incredible. She released his hands and started to move off him. He caught her about the waist suddenly feeling anxious, “Where are you going?”

Her warm fingers caressed his face. "Don't worry Anders, I didn't pursue you for four long years just for a one night stand."

His grip on her relaxed and he gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I just..." He hadn’t realized that he was still afraid that this was a dream or that she was going to send him away.

She climbed off his lap and moved to the head of the bed settling down under the covers. She peeled back the covers and slid underneath before motioning for him to join her. Blankets sounded good; now that they weren’t making love anymore the sweat was cooling on their bodies rapidly. Anders moved up to join her sliding under the covers, his hands immediately seeking out her pale skin. 

"Are you alright?" 

She turned looking at him with a smile "Me? I'm happy…fantastic…amazing…wonderful. Would it be crass to say thank you?"

Anders laughed, loud and sudden, surprising even himself. He clapped his hand over his mouth. 

Sekhmet turned on her side and pulled his hand away from his mouth. "Don't, you should laugh more. It's a beautiful sound."

He hadn't laughed like that in years and it felt good. She lay back and watched him as he touched her under the blankets before pushing them back. He wanted to see her again, wanted to remind himself that he was really here with her in her bed.

He kissed several of her scars, something in him both breaking and reveling in the fact that she bore them as the result of protecting mages. She had been fighting for mages longer than he had. Maybe that was one of the reasons he had fallen for her. 

********

He made love to her slowly, almost reverently again and again. He had tried to make up for all the time they had lost, all those nights when they had both slept alone. She had been a responsive and eager lover. Even now she was wrapped around him, holding him as if she was afraid he would disappear. He felt…cherished, it was the only word for it.

He had dozed for a while and was surprised to find himself in her bed. Her head was resting on his chest, but she was awake. He didn’t want to leave, but thought it would be best. As nice as Leandra was, he wasn’t sure how she would feel about him spending the night with her daughter.

“I should go.” He whispered as he moved her arm from around his waist and started sliding out of the bed.

She moved away from him. “Oh, alright.” 

He cringed hearing the disappointment in her voice. “It’s almost morning,” he said by way of explanation, hoping she realized it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there.

“Right.” Her voice was tight now. She slid out of the bed and started pulling her clothes back on. She finished dressing before him and stood, staring into the fire with her arms wrapped around herself again. Her back to him, he could almost feel her shutting down, shutting him out.

He finished getting dressed quickly and walked over to her, his heart aching at the loss. She turned towards him as he approached. He slipped an arm around her and held her as he spoke, “I love you.” He watched some of the tension drain from her. “I’ve been holding back from saying that. You should have a normal life, not be tied down to a fugitive with no future.” Looking at her, having held her in his arms, he couldn’t imagine trying to give it up now, he belonged to her. “But I don’t ever want to leave you.”

She gave him a small smile, “Good,” her voice pleading, almost desperate. “Then, don’t ever leave.”

He felt his chest tighten again. “Do you mean that? Would you have me here, living with you? Would you tell the world, the Knight Commander, that you love an apostate and will stand by his side?” It was too much to hope for, but he asked anyways. Sekhmet was a strong woman, fierce and unafraid, perhaps there was a small chance he could find some happiness with her, beyond this night of ill advised tenderness. 

Her clear blue eyes never wavered as she spoke, and that strength, her fearlessness was clear in her voice. “I want you right here, until the day we die.”

Was he dreaming? Did she mean it? Could she possibly understand what it was she had just agreed to? He pushed the doubts to the back of his mind, intent on not ruining the day. “For three years, I have lain awake every night, aching for you.” He gave a small rueful smile. “I’m still terrified I’ll wake up.”

He pulled her against him and she automatically wound her arms around him, her lips meeting his in a kiss. _Mine_ , the thought was a flash, a seared feeling to his soul, she was his. 

She stepped back after a moment and tugged on his belt. 

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going back to bed. I’m tired.”

He didn’t argue as there was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to lay back down with her in his arms. If it was a dream, he would enjoy it for as long as possible. Part of him knew that it couldn’t last. Happiness never does.


	40. Mother Knows Best

He had been stunned that when they finally managed to climb out of bed for the day, Leandra hadn’t seemed surprised to find him there at all. In fact, there was food waiting for both of them. Leandra’s smile had been almost impish. “Good morning, Anders. Are we feeling refreshed?”

Anders nearly choked on his toast. “Uhm, yes ma’am, thank you.”

Sekhmet giggled. Leandra, who had started before them, finished her breakfast and stood. “You’ll have to excuse me; I have some correspondence to deal with this morning.” She moved around the table and kissed Sekhmet on the forehead before whispering something in her ear and leaving the room.

Anders looked at Sekhmet, “She knew I was here?”

“Of course, I told her that if I was lucky you would be coming to see me.”

He was more than a little surprised. “For the night?”

Sekhmet cocked her head, “Yes.”

“What did she say?” Granted, Sekhmet wasn’t exactly a girl, but he found it hard to imagine her mother had been fine with the idea of her having a man spending the night in her bed.

Sekhmet gave him an impish smile, which seemed to be a Hawke trait, “That it was a good thing she hadn’t found me a husband yet.”

Anders laughed, a real laugh, his second in less than twelve hours. And he’d all but given up on the idea that he’d ever feel like really and truly laughing again. What a difference a few hours could make.

Still smiling, she added, “Apparently, I’m not much of a catch. Want to throw me back?”

“Never.” He reached out and took her hand and became serious, “Never Sekhmet, I’ll always want you with me, right by my side.” He kissed her fingers.

“Good.”

********

He had spent the morning and most of the afternoon with her. Had he thought it was difficult to leave her before? He felt like a teenager, or at least how he imagined a teenage boy, who wasn’t a mage, would feel experiencing a relationship for the first time. He was giddy, and light hearted in a way he couldn’t ever remember being before. 

And Leandra, she was nothing like he had expected. She’d walked into the library and caught the two of them kissing. Anders had immediately jerked away, ashamed to have been caught. He’d been caught in much more compromising situations by Templars, but being caught by Sekhmet’s mother seemed so much worse.

Her smile had wilted a little and he’d thought she was upset with him. And she was, just not for the reason he’d assumed. “Sekhmet, leave us.”

“Mother, I’m not a child.” 

Her mother nodded, “I know, but I think your beau and I should speak. We need to understand each other.”

He pushed Sekhmet just the faintest, “It’s alright, go on.”

She hadn’t been pleased but she’d left the room, warning her mother to be nice before leaving.

Leandra had watched him silently for another moment, making him feel even more uncomfortable and embarrassed. He was relieved when she finally spoke. Even if she was angry, it was better than her staring him down.

“Don’t you ever be embarrassed of loving her.” Her voice was sharp and admonishing. She crossed the room to stand in front of him. “After all the sulking she’s done it’s good to see her happy.” She sighed and shook her head, “You have no idea how much I envy you.”

Envy? How could she possibly envy him of all people? “I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma’am.”

She scowled though it was more playful than anything, “Please, don’t call me ma’am. The grey hair is bad enough, call me Leandra.” She smiled gently. “Malcolm never could, but perhaps you can? What’s the secret, how did you reach her?”

He bit his lip and shook his head still confused.

She nodded in understanding. “You don’t know any more than he did. All well, it was nice to hope.” She turned and walked away from him a bit as she spoke, “I always felt there was something wrong between the two of us. I never knew how to reach her.”

She sighed, a sound that was both fond and sad, “But Malcolm…it was like they had their own language and the rest of us could only watch.” Turning back, her smile had faltered a little as she looked up into his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve realized by now that regardless of the garbage that comes out of her mouth she has a brilliant mind.”

Anders nodded, she did. Her mind was agile and able to figure out complex problems. She excelled at non linear thinking, something that marveled Anders to no end. She hid it most of the time, Maker only knew why, but he’d noticed, how could he not?

“I’m guessing you’re no slouch yourself if you’ve stolen my girl’s heart. And that’s good, because Malcolm was the last person she had that she could share that part of herself with. The two of them would stay up until the wee hours of the morning talking, even when she was a young girl.” A faint shake of her head, “She could talk about things with her father that I couldn’t even begin to understand. Do you have any idea how humbling it is to realize your eight year old daughter understands your husband’s mind better than you do?”

He didn’t respond, because it didn’t seem she needed one. And truth be told he had no idea how to answer anyway. If Hawke had been so brilliant, so full of promise at such a young age why hadn’t they sent her somewhere where she could learn more and put her mind to good use? Yes, that was one of the advantages mages had over the general populace, but if she had been that brilliant surely a Bann would have been happy to foster and educate her.

Leandra seemed to see his thoughts almost. “We never could have sent her away, not just because of who her father was, but Malcolm would have never allowed it. He doted on her, gave her anything, taught her anything. There were no limits for her. He knew, even when she was young that there was something special and different about her.”

She closed her eyes; strain lines were visible around them now. “Oh Malcolm, did he know what losing him would do to her?” She opened her eyes slowly, though she was looking past him and into the fire now. “Sometimes, when I look back and remember her after his death…she lost part of herself when we lost him, and more than that she lost her best connection to the rest of us. None of us knew how to talk to her, how to be with her without him there.” 

She swallowed thickly, the memory clearly painful. “I knew the day we burned him that she would be gone, that she would leave us before long. I was always surprised she stayed as long as she did.”

She shook her head as if she had been lost in a fog. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, you didn’t need to hear all of that. Just an old woman who’s had too many memories stirred up recently. You’re good to be so patient with me.”

He shrugged, “I like hearing about her life.”

She pressed her lips together briefly before continuing, “Well, may she forgive us for dredging up the past then. Where I was headed to with all of this originally was that she never liked being touched, rarely allowed it except from her father. And after her father died, she reacted badly to being touched. I couldn’t tell you why, I never understood it and she sure didn’t share her life with me.”

That really surprised Anders, Sekhmet always touched him. Not to mention she seemed fairly alright when Sebastian and Fenris touched her. And after what Bethany had told him of Sekhmet’s reputation in Lothering he wondered why she was so stingy with her affections at home. 

Leandra touched his forearm, her smile widening with what looked like relief and joy. “You can’t imagine how much joy it brings me to see you two. I never thought she’d let someone into her life enough to love her. I feared she’d always choose to be alone.”

Perhaps she had, Anders had, but life had ordained something different for both of them. It wasn’t going to be easy, but he would find a way to make it work, whatever that meant. 

“So hug her, kiss her, hold her, whatever affection she allows and pray she never makes you stop.” She turned to go then paused and looked back at him. “I suppose I should do the fatherly thing too, shouldn’t I? Do I really need to tell you what terrible things will befall you if you hurt her?”

He smiled a little, pleasantly amused at her trying to protect Sekhmet. “No, I understand.”

She stepped close to him staring him down again. “I watched her wither and pine for you for years. I like you, always have, but if you hurt her again you will learn the meaning of wrath.” And with that she turned and left the room.

Anders was more than a little stunned by the sheer hostility in Leandra’s last statement. How could he blame her though? How would he feel if someone put his daughter through half the shit he had put Sekhmet through? 

That thought froze him in his tracks…his daughter? The idea brought about a powerful ache. Funny, he’d warned Sekhmet there would be no little house with a fence yet here he was, suddenly very much wanting to be a father. The desire was nothing new, but having someone in his life that it was even a possibility with was very new.

Not that he would truly entertain the thought. It was a ridiculous idea, made even more ridiculous by him being a Warden. No, he’d always made sure not to leave any unwanted pregnancies in his wake and Sekhmet would be no different. He chuckled ruefully, one single night with the woman he loved and his head was already filled with bizarre fantasies.

Sekhmet peeked her head into the room, “What’s so funny?”

He smiled seeing her, warmth spreading through him at the sight. “Just the novelty of dealing with a girl’s parents, for the first time, at my age.”

She snorted, “Imagine what it’s like for me.”

He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “You make it sound as if you’ve never been courted.”

She shrugged a little, “I never have,” she scowled suddenly, “and don’t go getting any funny ideas.”

“And where would I get ideas from? I grew up in the Circle, remember? I wouldn’t know where to begin with courting someone.” But he knew who to ask, didn’t he? An idea started to take shape, an idea Sekhmet would likely profess to hate, but he thought she might actually enjoy it. And it would certainly be fun to at least give it a try, wouldn’t it?

“Fine, good” and after another few seconds she finally relaxed a bit. “Mother wants to play All Fours, would you care to join us? Bodahn’s agreed to play as well.”

It was another excuse not to leave, so he eagerly agreed. Sekhmet led him into the dining room where Leandra and Bodadn were already seated. Sandal sat further down the table with Orana who smiled and flushed at them when they came in.

Leandra beamed at them as they took their seats, “I thought we might entertain ourselves a bit while Orana and Sandal work on their lessons.”

Sekhmet smiled at him wryly. “Mother has decided that Sandal and Orana both need at least a basic education and has decided to see to it herself.”

“And we really appreciate it.” Bodahn was quick to add.

“A noble and worthy endeavor,” and Anders meant it. He thought everyone should be educated. “If my teacher’s were half so beautiful as your mother, I think I would have learned rather a lot more at my lessons than I did.” Okay, simple flattery, but the way Leandra flushed made it worth it.

“Seems your mage has a silver tongue, dear.”

Sekhmet smirked at Anders, “Silver? I think you’re under valuing him Mother. Try volcanic aurum.”

Anders flushed with heat, remembering how she’d praised his prowess and eagerness to please with his tongue hours before. He picked up the cards he’d been dealt and studied them carefully avoiding eye contact with Sekhmet. 

“At any rate, I’m glad he decided to join us.”

“What sane man could say no to spending the afternoon with such lovely ladies?” The words slipped out before he’d thought to hold them back.

Leandra giggled like a young girl. “Oh, you better be careful of this one, my darling daughter. He’s trouble if I ever met it.”

They had an entertaining afternoon, playing cards and chatting amicably. Leandra appreciated his humor and he hadn’t been able to help himself from laying on the charm fairly thick all day. The more it tickled and pleased Leandra the more he wanted to make her smile. And it seemed that making Leandra smile coaxed smiles from Sekhmet as well. Even Bodahn seemed to enjoy himself while they played cards.

He’d managed to endear himself to Leandra when he’d offered to help Sandal with a small passage he was having difficulty understanding. It took him a few minutes but he was able to help the boy understand. He wasn’t nearly as simple as his speech patterns would make it seem. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy getting to know Sandal, or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

As their game wound down, all of them seeming to lose enthusiasm for it, Anders remembered something Sekhmet had once told him about her mother. “Leandra,” the name was starting to feel familiar on his lips, “do you think we might be able to talk you into playing the lute for us?”

Leandra’s eyes went wide in surprise, “Who told you I played the lute?”

“Sekhmet mentioned it to me.” He smiled at her, trying to reassure her, she looked nervous. “I would consider it a great honor to hear you play.”

“Yes, mother,” Sekhmet chimed in, “it’s been so long since I’ve heard you play.”

This seemed to fluster Leandra even further. Orana jumped up and ran up the stairs, presumably to fetch the lute. 

“Oh, I’m too rusty, ask Orana. She plays beautifully.” 

“Rumor is you’re pretty fantastic yourself.” He prompted again, eager to hear her play, to be privy to something it seemed few other people ever had.

Orana came back, handing the lute to Leandra with a bow, “I tuned it for you, mistress.”

She took it hesitantly and looked around the table, seeing nothing but eager and hopeful faces looking back at her. She sighed softly, obviously giving in. “Oh, alright but keep in mind I haven’t played in a very long time.”

She adjusted the lute so she could hold it properly and strummed a few notes experimentally before shaking out her wrist and furrowing her brow in concentration. The first few notes of the song were too soft and unsure. It took her a few moments to relax into the piece.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and her fingers danced across the strings. They pulled forth a melody sad and so infinitely sweet it tugged at Anders’ heart. Her head moved gently back and forth with the tune and her lips moved wordlessly, but the longer she played the more radiant and relaxed she looked.

As the song wove around them he couldn’t help but wish, even for a moment, that this could be his life. What he wouldn’t give to wake up with Sekhmet in his arms each morning, to trade laughter and smiles with her and Leandra over breakfast, to teach Orana and Sandal each day, and to be blessed enough to share moments like this with them. He had never known anything like this day in his entire life and he was afraid he’d never experience it again.

As the music played on, Sekhmet pushed back her chair so that she could tuck herself against his side. He held her close and kissed her hair. One day, just a single day and already he’d experienced more joy that he’d ever thought possible. One day and this woman and her amazing mother had given him memories he would cherish for a lifetime.

When the song ended he pushed Sekhmet away from him just the slightest so he could stand up. He walked to Leandra and took her hand, kissing the back of it. “Thank you, that was so beautiful.” She flushed prettily, apparently Sekhmet got that from her mother.

“Thank you.” She set the lute on the table and smiled, “It was nice to play again.” Leandra shook her head, “I don’t know how you talked me into that, but thank you.”

********

When Leandra had left with Bodahn and Sandal to run a few errands, Sekhmet and Anders disappeared back into Sekhmet’s room. The previous night had been a culmination of need and love played out with their bodies to douse some of the ache they had endured for nearly four years. But now things were different.

Anders wanted to explore Sekhmet, learn the contours of her body and find what brought her pleasure and what things he needed to avoid. He pulled her tunic up over her head and discarded it in a nearby chair, stepping close to her again and caressed her face. 

Her hand lightly touched the center of his chest while she looked up at him. She gave him a small smile, “I thought I was used to how tall you are.”

Anders raised a brow, “Does it bother you?”

Sekhmet shrugged a little, “It makes me feel small sometimes.”

“You are small.”

She scowled, “I’m not small. I’m average.”

With an indulgent smile on his lips Anders conceded a little, “Average is small to me, my love.”

She regarded him for a minute before seeming to find his response acceptable. When she didn’t protest Anders skimmed his hands down over her shoulders and down her arms. He took her hands into his own and placed a kiss gently to each palm before releasing them.

He traced a finger over her collarbone and down to trace lightly over the end of the twisted scar that peeked out from the top of her breast band. She stiffened only slightly when he did it, but Anders noticed anyway. He stopped touching her and took a small step away, speaking as he moved.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t touch it again if it bothers you.”

“Why does it fascinate you so much? You’re a healer; surely you’ve seen plenty of scars before.”

“I have,” he shook his head, “maybe it fascinates me because of how you got it.”

“So it turns you on that I have scars from saving mages?” Her lip curled into that little smirk of hers. “Then I guess I really am the girl for you.”

His little lioness, always making light of things that upset her. “Your father was lucky to have a daughter who loved him so much.”

Sekhmet blanched and Anders realized his mistake only too late. 

She quickly recovered, her tone slipping into annoyance, “And just what else do you know about me that didn’t come from my lips?”

“Don’t be angry, Bethany just told me a bit about your life in Lothering.”

“What else did she tell you?”

Anders was quiet; he wasn’t sure what to tell her. He didn’t want her angry, Maker, why did he always make such a mess of things. She watched him waiting for him to say something. 

As the seconds stretched out she turned away from him covering her face and snorted. “That certainly explains a lot, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

She turned back to look at him with pained eyes and flushed cheeks, “What man wants to fall in love with a whore?”

Anders winced, “Sekhmet, that’s…”

She cut him off, “It must have really surprised you when you offered to fuck me and the whore didn’t take you up on it. What was the big deal right? Just one more cock between my legs.” She turned away from him again, back rigid and arms wrapped around herself, defensive.

Anders watched her, not sure what to say to her that wouldn’t hurt her or piss her off even more and cursing himself for screwing this up so soon after it had started. Not even an entire day had passed and he had already hurt her, even after the promise to her mother. He should have known better than to make promises he couldn’t keep. “I never…”

“Anders, stop please.”

“Just let me speak,” he sighed, “You can be so stubborn, you get an idea in your head and refuse to listen to anything that might contradict it. Your past never affected how I felt about you or what I thought about you. It still doesn’t, what kind of hypocrite would I be if it did? I wasn’t exactly celibate before I came to Kirkwall.”

She closed her eyes, strain showing on her face. “It’s different for men. You’re expected to sow your oats.”

How could she think he cared what others said about her? How could she think he, of all people, would judge her for her past? He grabbed her around the waist turning her towards him and pulled her against his body. 

He leaned down and kissed her, gently coaxing her mouth open with his lips. As a method to shut someone up, a kiss was universally useful. As he deepened the kiss he felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up, an effect he found fascinating. She still tasted like wind and rain, thunder and lightning, the surf crashing against rocky cliffs and warm summer winds.

He would show her how much he cherished her, since she seemed so unable to believe his words. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, keeping her silent with his kiss. As he lay her down he finally pulled out of the kiss. 

“If you don’t believe what I say I guess I’ll just have to show you.” He dropped gentle kisses down her neck and across the exposed expanse of her chest. “You have the most beautiful alabaster skin.”

“Anders,” her voice was quiet, almost reproachful, “You don’t need to…”

Anders covered her mouth with his hand, “Do I need to gag you, love?” When she was quiet he removed his hand.

Sekhmet giggled, “Only if you want to.”

Anders raised a brow in amusement, that was certainly interesting, “You know, I just might, but not today. I want to hear you moan my name again.” Sekhmet’s body shuddered a little beneath him and he felt another smile curl his lips, “There’s that pretty flush you always try to hide.” He trailed his fingers over her reddened cheek. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are and what you do to me?”

She was watching him with her lips slightly parted. He kissed her shoulder, “I have dreamt about your skin, it’s even softer than I imagined it would be.” He placed a soft kiss on her lips, “I’ve dreamt about kissing these lips a thousand times. The night your mother made me stay at the estate I remember seeing you in the firelight without that purple you love to paint your lips with, I was surprised they were so dark, I had imagined them as pale, like the rest of your skin.” 

He traced a thumb over her high cheekbone, “And these clear blue eyes, like diamonds and always so sharp,” his smile widened a little, “you never missed anything, even when I wished that you had. I’ve longed to see them looking at me like you did last night, loving and happy, like I was the only one you needed, the only one you wanted.”

Her fingers touched his face and Anders closed his eyes leaning into her touch. “You are, Anders.”

He stroked his fingers over the hand that was on his cheek; opening his eyes he pulled her hand away from his cheek so he could kiss her fingertips. “I can’t promise you happily ever after.” He fervently wished he could, she deserved it after all she’d been through in her life.

She just smirked, “I’m not really that kind of girl, Anders. I’d probably revolt if you tried to domesticate me. Besides, all I want is for you to love me and to let me love you.”

“I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.” With that he lowered his head and kissed her again. He followed the kiss with touches and caresses until she did indeed moan his name, repeatedly even. Satiated and content he curled up behind her as she drifted off to sleep. His mind was overactive and he was unable to fall asleep. Eventually, he slipped from the bed quietly as she napped and headed for the library.

********

He had been reclining in the library for nearly an hour reading when Leandra returned to the estate. He got up to see if he could help her with anything but she waived him off telling him that she and Bodahn had everything covered. He retreated back to the library, unsure what else to do with himself. He didn’t want to leave before Sekhmet awoke.

Sometime later Leandra found him in the library; her voice was quiet when she spoke, “Anders?”

Swinging his legs off the arm of the chair feeling a little guilty for being found that way he turned to see her and gave her a smile, “Hello, Leandra.”

She had moved a chair so it faced his and sat down. “Do you truly love her?”

He didn’t hesitate for even a moment. “Yes, ma’am.”

She gave him an indulgent smile. “What have I said about calling me ma’am?”

“Sorry, Leandra.”

She nodded, “Good, then you’ll be moving your things here to the estate immediately I take it?”

He was flabbergasted, “I…uh…” He and Sekhmet had only briefly discussed the idea. He hadn’t fathomed for even a moment that she’d already said something to her mother about it.

She waived him off, “Darktown is no place for you to be living, especially with the recent increase of Templar patrols down there.”

His eyes widened, how had she known that? He hadn’t even told Sekhmet about them yet.

A wry smiled curled her lips, “Oh, I may be an old woman, but we have our uses. We know where to find the latest gossip better than anyone. Now, I don’t care if you take a room of your own or move your things directly into my daughter’s room. I just don’t want to have to be worried you’ve been dragged off to the Gallows, sending my daughter on the warpath, and you know she would.”

He nodded, she would. She’d likely burn the whole bloody place to the ground to get to him. An idea that terrified him yet made him feel cherished. He did, however, hate the idea of her putting herself in danger to save him. “Oh Maker, Leandra what am I doing? I’m making such a mess of your life, of her life.”

“It doesn’t matter; it’s too late to change it now. It’s been too late for a very long time. I hope you realize that.”

He did, now. 

She sat back in the chair and sighed softly. “I ran away to be with the man I loved. And it was a tough life.”

Anders shifted in the chair; he was worried about where the conversation was going.

She got a far away reminiscent look in her eyes. “I loved him with every fiber of my being. I had never known what it was to feel alive until I met him. We were so thrilled when we had her.” Her gaze got a little sad. “Having a baby and being on the run is hard, so much harder than we had thought it would be.”

Anders felt fear crawling in his heart. Would she ask him to leave, even after she’d told him it was too late? To leave Sekhmet? Could he do it if she did? He knew he was being selfish, he knew he should have left her alone, but sweet Maker he loved her so damn much. 

He thought briefly of telling Leandra there wasn’t much chance of him being able to have children but kept his mouth shut. That was something he’d yet to share with Sekhmet. He was beginning to think he had far too many secrets for this to ever work.

Suddenly, Leandra’s gaze came back to the present and she locked eyes with his. “Her money protects you for now. It might not always though.”

Anders nodded, swallowing past the thick lump in his throat. He had known for some time that the only reason the Templars weren’t actively hunting him in particular was because of his association with Sekhmet.

Leandra leaned forward and took his hands in her own. “If they come for you, you take her and you run. You take her away from here and you love her.” Her eyes teared up. “It will be hard, but you won’t regret it. Real love is worth it Anders, do you hear me? It’s worth it.”

He squeezed her hands lightly, “I hear you.”

“I would rather her be on the run with you and happy, then here pining for you. Maker knows she’s done enough of that already.” 

Anders felt a twinge of guilt but before he could think of something to say Leandra continued.

Her gaze turned far away again, “You really are a bit like Malcolm.” She brushed an errant strand of hair from his forehead and smiled. “You promise me, if they come for you, you’ll take her and run.”

He couldn’t speak for a moment. The idea of leaving Leandra all alone felt like a betrayal. She had been so kind and accepting of him even before he and Sekhmet got together. She was one of the few people who treated him like a human being. “What about you?”

Her eyes took on a steely look. “Promise me, Anders.”

He nodded slowly, “I promise.”

“Thank you.” She whispered before she stood and swept from the room. 

He sat there for long moments thinking over their conversation. His head was spinning, over the span of less than one day his entire life had changed. He’d been a monster, barely clinging to his sanity in a hovel in Darktown. And now he was a man promising to take the love of his life and run if trouble should find them, and it most certainly would. Did Leandra suspect, as he did, that he and Sekhmet were bound to find bigger messes to get embroiled in now that they were together?

He stood and went to find Leandra, suddenly very much feeling the need to speak with her again. He found her by a window in the kitchen, staring out of it. 

She turned to him with a smile, “What is it you’re looking for from me, Anders?”

He shrugged, not quite sure himself. “This…this doesn’t feel right.”

She chuckled, “What’s the matter, too easy? Were you hoping that once you finally gave in I’d put up resistance for you? Can you not simply enjoy it, enjoy being with her?”

“I’m trying. I love being with her, being here. I feel…I feel like…” another flustered shrug.

“Have you not both paid more than your fair share in heart break and tears? Do you think love has to be purchased with pain? Love doesn’t need to be earned, it simply is. My daughter is nearly a score and ten, and there are three things I know about her beyond a shadow of a doubt. Firstly, she will never stop fighting, not as long as there are Circles and Templars. Secondly, she carries the burden of those we’ve lost close to her heart, as if it were her burden to bear. And thirdly, she loves you.” She brushed a tear from her cheek. “All I want is for her to be happy, for her to fill her life with as much joy as possible. And you, when you stop trying to understand the why of it all, make her happy.”

She walked towards him and took his hand, “So yes, I am alright with you being here. I prefer it in fact. Yes, I am aware you are lovers, and I am alright with that too. No, I don’t expect you to keep her safe, that would be asking too much of anyone. Honestly, and truly Anders, all I want of you is to make her happy as best you can.”

And that was it; she couldn’t say it any more plainly. He was accepted as a part of Sekhmet’s life, as easy as that. He kissed Leandra’s hand. “Thank you,” why he needed it he had no idea beyond his own fears. He was just thankful she’d understood and not been annoyed by it.

He left her then, returning to fetch the book he had been reading from the library. He jogged up the steps and slid into bed next to Sekhmet’s still sleeping form. He’d stay for the rest of the evening and the night, if Sekhmet let him. And in the morning, he’d reopen his clinic. And he would get on with his life, enjoying Sekhmet instead of worrying when something was going to go wrong.


	41. Stop My Heart

Anders couldn't help but hum to himself a bit. The first night with Hawke had been everything he had dreamed of all those nights when he had slept alone in his room on his small cot. And the second night, well after exploring each other a bit more they’d stayed up talking for hours until he felt himself start dozing off. It had been nothing short of a miracle to him. Sleep was a rare commodity.

He’d slept soundly in Sekhmet’s huge and comfortable bed, with her tucked against him. And he’d had two whole nights with no nightmares. Better than the sex, better than the conversation had been waking up. Was there anything so purely perfect in the world as waking up with the woman you love in your arms? 

And Leandra’s easy acceptance was a pleasant surprise. His mind still reeled everytime he remembered the conversations he’d had with her. He told Sekhmet about speaking with Leandra and she hadn’t seemed surprised. She’d even made Anders choke up a little when she told him that Leandra knew about Justice. That woman was just amazing, she knew there was a possessed apostate in her daughter’s bed and hadn’t said a word about it. The women of the Hawke family were a rare breed indeed.

Which was why he’d had such a difficult time leaving them this morning. He’d wanted to stay with them, share their day and their laughter again. But, he had patients who needed him, people he had an obligation to. So, he had pulled himself away with great effort, only after Leandra had extracted a promise from him to return for dinner that evening. 

Well, that and more not so subtle prompting to try to get him to move in right away. And maybe he would, he had no desire to be anywhere but with Sekhmet for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t as if someone was going to steal the clinic if he started sleeping somewhere else. The two of them had wasted enough time; he really didn’t want to waste anymore. 

Crossing the clinic he suddenly stopped humming. Justice was pushing against him, struggling for control. Something was wrong, there was danger here. It prickled along his skin uncomfortably.

He strained to hear something but couldn’t hear over Justice’s voice in his head. Anders let Justice slip through, figuring that no matter what the danger was it was safer to have Justice deal with it. As soon as the spirit had taken control a shiver ran through him and Anders realized who it was waiting for him in the back of the clinic. “Don’t kill him if you can avoid it.” He admonished softly.

********

Justice murmured his assent, trying to walk slowly towards Anders’ room. He tried to rein in as much of his power as he could, not wanting the bright light to tip off his would be assailant. Before he had crossed the threshold Fenris had him pinned to the wall. His first instinct was to hurt the elf, but he remembered Anders’ words.

"What are you doing here? Is there a problem?" With no more reason for stealth he released his hold on his power, making his skin flare a little brighter.

"I'm here to kill you, Anders. You're too dangerous." Fenris slipped his hand up to Justice’s throat and squeezed it lightly.

Justice felt anger dance down his spine, sending dark waves through him. The elf was not hurting him yet, he could not justify disregarding Anders’ wishes...yet. “You may try.”

Fenris hesitated for only a moment before he pushed his glowing hand into Anders’ chest. He wrapped his fingers carefully around Anders’ heart, his fist closing tightly. Justice didn’t even flinch, and if he were to describe the emotion he felt it was irritation. Anders was less calm, telling Justice to make Fenris stop, but he did not try to take control.

"If I ripped this out would it kill you?" Fenris asked pulling lightly on Anders’ heart.

"No, it would not. I am a spirit and cannot die in that way.” Justice thought the elf would have known that.

“Would Anders die?” 

“I do not know. He might.” Justice was no expert on possession. He honestly had no idea if he would be able to keep Anders alive through something like having his heart ripped from his chest. 

“And if I did manage to kill him you’d just continue to possess his body, wouldn’t you?” Fenris snarled at him.

“I would not let you kill him.” He and Anders might not always agree on everything, but he would not let him be killed just to assuage the elf’s rage.

“What if killing him was justice, would you allow it then? Or are you just a demon with empty words?” The elf was glowering even as he released Anders’ heart and removed his hand from Anders’ chest.

“If his death brought about justice, then I would allow it.”

Fenris stepped back from him, eyeing him suspiciously. “You would allow you him to die, for justice? Does his life mean so little to you?”

“No, his life actually means a great deal to me. Justice is justice though; I would not be able to turn a blind eye to Anders’ actions if he were to do something that warranted his death.” It was simple, he was Justice. 

“You are dangerous. You almost killed a young girl. Hawke might be blind to it, but I see it. You should stay away from all of us.” He was growling at Justice like a feral animal.

“Even if I so chose, I could not stay away. Anders refuses to be parted from Hawke, especially now.” Anders was yelling again, telling Justice to rein in his temper. He could feel that Justice was losing his composure at being told what to do. 

Fenris glared at Justice, “Why, what has he done? Why won’t he leave her?”

The thin strands of his patience were snapping like rotted thread. “That is between Hawke and Anders and is no concern of yours.”

Fenris stalked closer to him, spittle flying as he snapped at Justice, “I’m making it my concern.”

Anders screamed in Justice’s head like a caged animal. Telling Justice to calm down and just leave. Justice had no intention of leaving his own home in order to save this wretched elf. Anders warned him Hawke would be upset, and that was almost reason enough to end the elf.

Maybe killing the elf would put an end to what was happening between Hawke and Anders. Anders somehow caught the thought and started trying to take control, threatening Justice. At length, he decided killing Fenris would cause too many problems for everyone involved. Yes, he had threatened Justice, but had been unable to succeed. He was not a true threat.

Justice stared the elf down, “You have already seen that you have no sway over me, elf. You should leave now and we can forget this happened.” The light streaming from his body grew suddenly brighter, an obvious threat, which the elf caught on to.

“Don’t try to intimidate me, mage.” Fenris hissed.

Justice reached out, fast, surprising the elf. He grabbed him tight around the neck, just below his jaw and started to lift him from the floor. The elf dropped the large sword he’d been holding, it clattered to the floor between them, useless. Fenris scrabbled to grip Justice’s arm with both his hands, trying desperately to pry it loose as his feet left the floor.

Justice’s voice reverberated in the small room, “I should kill you.”

Perhaps finally understanding his life was in real danger the elf tried to flare his lyrium tattoos into life. Instead of lighting up in a flash they lit up slowly across his body, almost like slow moving water. Fenris looked at his skin and scowled, trying harder to light them up.

Justice was pulling the power slowly off the elf, feeding off the lyrium in the elf’s skin. With Fenris’ extra effort he managed to make his body slightly less solid. The extra power drew a groan from Justice’s lips. The lyrium sang such a glorious melody, and it was as if the more power Fenris poured through the markings the more instruments joined the symphony. 

He did have the presence of mind, just barely, to realize he needed to stop Fenris before he fazed and worked himself free. So with reluctance he pulled hard on the power rolling off the elf’s lyrium tattoos, drinking that power up and letting it flow into Anders’ body. Fenris’ struggles almost immediately stopped when his tattoos went dark.

Fenris looked dazed and very tired suddenly. He was struggling to breathe now and Justice idly wondered how long it would take him to choke to death. Slowly, the elf lifted his eyes back to Justice’s and Justice saw fresh anger in them. There was still some fight in the elf.

A fact that was made even more clear a moment later when the elf suddenly summoned his will to strike out, kicking his foot hard against Anders’ knee. There was a sick grinding noise followed by a pop but Justice barely felt a thing.

“Kill me or let me go.” Fenris rasped. 

Justice thought about it for a minute, before deciding to let the elf leave. He dropped him unceremoniously to the floor. “Leave.” 

Fenris landed on his feet but just barely, gasping for air he bent and picked up his sword. “We’re not finished.”

********

When Anders spoke again, it was his voice instead of Justice’s. Justice had handed control back to Anders mostly but he still glowed with the vibrant blue of Justice’s power. “I quite think we are.”

Fenris started moving towards the door. “I will find a way to kill you mage. And when I do, I will be back.”

Anders didn’t bother to respond he just watched as Fenris walked slowly from the clinic. Once the elf was gone he locked the door and headed back to his room at the back of the clinic. He collapsed into a chair and Justice faded completely. 

Yet another new experience with Justice, he’d had no idea the spirit could share his power like that while Anders retained his mind. He’d contemplate it later, right now he had other matters to worry about. His eyes watered at the pain in his knee. That bastard had dislocated it.

He set about healing himself, being as careful as he could. His mind was distracted by the tingling all over his skin, a result of the power Justice had siphoned off Fenris. Once his knee was healed Anders stood and walked experimentally on it. It seemed fine, no residual pain or damage, and for that he was grateful. 

He knew he should open his clinic but he felt too unsettled. Fenris reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart had been frightening to say the least, thankfully at the time Justice was in control, and he wasn’t one to show his emotions. He was sure showing Fenris any kind of weakness would have been a mistake. 

He thought about Justice’s conversation with Fenris. Anders should have been dead at least twice over by now, could he really not die unless Justice wanted it? Instead of being comforted by it, the idea made Anders’ skin crawl. It was just another thing that made him not quite human.

A very large part of him had wanted to kill Fenris, not just because Fenris had tried to kill him. Fenris was against everything that Anders believed in, everything that Sekhmet believed in. They would both be better off with Fenris dead. He knew that Sekhmet would never forgive him though, she had already accepted Fenris and so Anders had to suffer the elf’s continued existence.

Anders sighed and decided to head back to Sekhmet’s estate. He really felt like he needed her right now, and he would be worse than useless to his patients in his current condition. Working with the overload of power still in his system could cause him to unintentionally hurt someone.

He slipped out of his coat and stripped down. There was an ugly bruise in the center of his chest where Fenris had pushed through it. He was a little surprised to see it, but healed himself quickly. He poured a bit of water from the ewer into the bowl and quickly cleaned himself off. Then slipped on his spare set of clothes and pulled his coat back on. 

Looking around the room he sighed a bit to himself. There wasn’t much in the room to take, but he didn’t want to deal with it right now and he still wasn’t sure moving in was the right decision. He was having second thoughts about moving in with her. Would Fenris come for him there? 

Anders shook his head and turned to leave the clinic, these were things that could wait for another day. Today he just wanted to be with Sekhmet, just wanted to bask in her love and to show her how much he cared for her. Another day without outside interruptions was exactly what he needed. 

It seemed only moments before he was back in front of the estate, his hand knocking quietly on the door. Bodahn opened the door and smiled when he saw Anders. 

“Master Anders, so nice to see you again, my lady is in the library.” Bodahn tilted his head a bit looking at Anders with a strange expression. “Are you alright, messere?”

Anders forced a smile, “Yes, just glad to be here.”

“Oh, no, I meant your neck.” Bodahn gestured hesitantly. “I don’t believe those were there when you left.”

Anders cringed inside. He hadn’t even thought about his throat, he let a pulse of healing energy travel across his skin. “Better?” Maybe he should have taken the extra few minutes to shave. 

Bodahn nodded, but looked a bit uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing Bodahn, just a little scuffle. Darktown is a rough place.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Of course, messere.” Bodahn gave a slight bow, disbelief clear on his face.

Anders sighed and headed for the library. Sekhmet sat draped over a chair with a book in her hand. But she wasn’t reading it; it lay seemingly forgotten on her chest while she stared at the ceiling and hummed quietly to herself. Humming happily as he had done on his way to the clinic.

Anders felt the tension in his body unwind at the sight of her. He couldn’t help but smile, thinking that he had something to do with her current mood. “Miss me?”

Sekhmet jerked in the chair, clearly startled and Anders chuckled. She turned, surprise on her face. She set the book down quickly and crossed the room to him, standing on her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She snuggled against him. “I did.” She pulled back, her eyes searching his face. “I thought you had patients?”

He shrugged, “They can wait, I wanted to be with you today.”

“Are you sure?” She looked behind her and Anders noticed several pieces of parchment on the floor by the chair. “Maybe we should…” She gestured to the letters.

He took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs, “No work today.”

She smiled, “Oh, well if that’s what you want.”

Anders paused and pulled her close. He bent his head down and kissed her, gently at first, just a press of his lips against hers. He let the tip of his tongue feather lightly across her bottom lip. She parted her lips and he was happy to take the invitation. 

Just feather light caresses along the inside of her lip, and when she sighed against his mouth he caressed her tongue with his. He turned his head a bit, getting a better angle to taste her. He licked and caressed and nibbled until she moaned against his mouth. He pulled back, his lips barely touching hers. “I want.”

Sekhmet shuddered and followed him up the stairs.

********

He was beautiful. Golden hair mussed, long eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones, those beautiful lips parted and slightly swollen, and the dark ink that covered so much of his body. He was more beautiful than she’d imagined, and sweeter, more gentle.

And she knew he was holding back, controlling himself. When they made love she’d catch him biting his lips, screwing his eyes shut tight as if trying to stop himself. She’d caught a glimpse today when he’d come back from the clinic. The first time he’d picked her up, tossing her onto the bed and literally ripped the clothes from her.

When she lay there, naked, he stopped, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths before climbing onto the bed with her. And that desperate, hungry, needy man she’d caught a glimpse of was gone, replaced by the man who kissed her gently and stroked her tenderly as if she were made of spun glass.

And it was good, damned good. Anders was by far the best lover she’d ever had. He never left her wanting, never left her unsatisfied in any way. But after that glimpse of a man desperate to be with her she felt that perhaps she was leaving him unsatisfied.

He was peculiar that was for sure. She’d never met a man so enamored of cunnilingus. Most men either only did a perfunctory job or didn’t bother at all. Anders seemed genuinely put out the one time she’d stopped him. He’d practically pouted. 

When she’d tried to return the favor he’d stopped her, each and every time. The man had such a pretty cock, it practically begged to be licked and he wouldn’t let her near it. And no explanation either, well other than the rather asinine one of “you’re a lady”. The man was daft.

It was alright though, she had time. Time to find out why he tried so hard to be sweet and tender in the bedroom and to unearth the starving man she’d seen. And time to wear him down, to get him to let her lick him until she could swallow him whole. 

Thinking about it she could practically feel the velvet softness of it against her tongue. Would he be cross if she decided to wake him that way? Maybe she would, someday soon. For now, she was contented to watch him sleep. Besides, he was holding her in a death grip even in his sleep, like he was afraid she was going to run away.

She enjoyed sleeping cuddled up close to him. He was so warm and the beat of his heart soothed her. Perhaps the steady beat of it had been what had chased off her nightmares these last few nights. 

It was still hard to believe he was actually here, with her. And to see him happy, sweet Maker, his laughter was like sunlight, brightening all who heard its happy tones. It was infectious, that laugh, and she was already in love with the sound of it. 

He was like a new man, a lighter, less troubled man. He was affectionate and playful, things she’d only seen the slightest hints of before. She knew a lot of it was the euphoria of something new and its gloss would fade. And she wouldn’t waste time wondering how much of it would stay, for now she’d just bask in his glow and be grateful.

She kissed his chest lightly, willing herself back to sleep. Tomorrow, they were headed for the Keep. Aveline had requested her help with “an important matter”. The guard captain had asked that she not make a big deal out of the situation, so she figured whatever it was she and Anders could handle it. 

And as much as she wanted to she knew the two of them couldn’t hide from the others forever. Sooner or later they were going to figure out things had changed. They’d have to deal with a bit of ribbing but she hoped for the most part they could be happy for her. Honestly, the only one she was truly worried about was Fenris.

He’d become so over protective of her, she wasn’t sure how he would react. As it was, everytime she left him home while she took a job she was lectured on how he couldn’t protect her if she didn’t even tell him what was going on. Sebastian was adorable when he did it, but Fenris was just plain grumpy.

A sudden feeling of unease fell over her. With Anders living here it’d be hard to hide the correspondence that Fenris frequently delivered from the Gallows, or her own messages sent in return. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide it from him necessarily. Once she explained what it was it was likely he’d be fine. 

She was more worried he’d want to know who she was corresponding with to try to use them to the advantage of the Mage Underground. And the truth was her contact was putting himself in enough danger already. She wouldn’t ask him to do more.

Mind wandering she didn’t notice Anders had awoken until he rolled them over and pinned her beneath him with a grin. “Hmmm, seems I’ve gotten a bit rusty. I would have sworn I tired you out enough to sleep for a few hours.”

She giggled, “I am tired.”

He flexed his hips, rubbing a fast growing erection against her thigh, “Are you sure, because I’m more than happy to help?”

She pulled his head down and kissed him. It was a slow, languid kiss luxuriating in the feel of Anders’ plush lips and the sharp, slightly sweet taste that was distinctly his. He made a low rumbling noise in his chest, like a purr. His fingers slipped into her hair, coaxing her head gently to the side as he took over the kiss. After long moments he broke away, her name an awed whisper on his lips. 

She stroked his cheek gently, “We should really get some sleep.”

“Are you serious? You kiss me like that and then want me to sleep?” But he was just teasing her.

“It was just a kiss, I’m sure you’ll live.” She teased back.

His face became overly earnest. “Just a kiss? A kiss like that could change a man’s whole life, his destiny. A kiss like that could change the whole world.”

She giggled and pushed on his chest to get him to move off her, “Don’t be an ass.”

He smiled and moved off her, pulling her close against his body and curling around her. “Alright, we’ll sleep.” He kissed her hair and became quite for several minutes and she thought he’d fallen back asleep. She started a little when he spoke again, just a soft whisper. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me how Izzy knew you were such a fantastic kisser. Should I be jealous?”

“I…oh.” She stammered.

He chuckled, “Really? Must be an interesting story.”

“Not really, we were drunk, she kissed me end of story.” She shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t push too much. Honestly, what she mostly remembered about that night was showing up half naked at _his_ door, only to be shot down again.

“Except that you left out the part where you kissed her back, apparently.” 

She was starting to feel vaguely annoyed at his questioning, even though he was doing it in a playful, teasing manner he was still trying to ferret out information. “Yes, fine, alright I kissed her back. Happy?”

He loosened his grip on her and sat up, “Hey, relax. I was just teasing.”

She sat up and looked at him, “No, you weren’t. You were fishing.”

He sighed and nodded, “Okay, fair enough, I suppose I was. Is this a good time to tell you I’m surprisingly jealous where you’re concerned?”

She laughed, surprised by his honesty. “You’re jealous over a drunken kiss, when you’re the one laying here in my bed at this very second?”

He closed his eyes, “Yes, and over the idea I might not have been the first person in this bed with you.”

She needed to stay calm; she didn’t want to fight with him again. “So, when you said my past didn’t bother you, it was a lie?”

His eyes flew open, “What? No! I…It’s the idea that one of them got to share this with you while I was being so…”

“Stupid?” She helpfully supplied. “Daft, stubborn, frightened, cowardly?”

He nodded, “Yes, yes, I get the point, I am an idiot.”

And now she was feeling a bit devious. “And what if I told you one of our companions has shared this bed with me?”

He gave her a self deprecating smile, “Would it be asking too much to burn the bed?”

She laughed and kissed his cheek before starting to lie down, thinking Anders would just drop it. As much as he was asking questions he seemed almost afraid of what the answer would be.

He held onto her arm lightly, “Aren’t you going to tell me who it was?” He looked nervous and hurt.

She’d just been playing; she hadn’t wanted to hurt him. She slid out of bed and opened the door a crack.

“What are you doing?”

She crawled back into bed with him. “You said you wanted to know who it was I’d shared this bed with right?”

He nodded, but looked decidedly less sure of himself now.

She whistled and the sound of scrambling paws could be heard faintly, getting louder until Tyr bounded into the room and straight onto the bed, panting and happily licking her face. “Here is my usual bed companion. Not as sexy as you are, but beautiful nonetheless, and he takes up much more of the bed then you do.”

He shook his head, “You’re a shit, you know that? You let me think…” He shuddered. “I was half terrified that beast Fenris had actually gotten his paws on you.”

She chuckled, “You weren’t worried about Isabela?”

He shrugged and grinned, “Well I wouldn’t have been exactly pleased, but picturing it would have taken some of the sting out. Besides, it really hard to get jealous of someone for sleeping with Isabela. It’s just…understood. She’s like a side dish, she comes with the meal.”

“Andraste’s ass Anders, she’d slap you silly if she heard you say that!”

He shook his head, “No, she wouldn’t. She knows it’s true. And now that my worries have been assuaged, I suggest we do actually try to get some sleep. Unless, of course,” he licked his lips and let his eyes rove over her, “you’ve changed your mind and you’re not too tired.”

“Sleep, we have work in the morning.” Not that she wanted to sleep now exactly, but Aveline did need help, and sleep was so rare she figured she should grab it while she could.

********

Aveline looked pleased to see her when she walked in the office, a feeling that clearly didn’t last when Anders stepped in right behind her. “Oh, you brought…someone.”

She nodded, a little surprised at Aveline’s demeanor. Anders didn’t usually bother her. “Is that a problem?”

Anders stopped beside her and let his hand rest casually on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Aveline practically sighed with relief when he did it. “No, not at all, it seems congratulations are in order.”

Sekhmet looked up at Anders who just smiled back, alright then. If he was fine with it, so was she. “All that from a single touch, Aveline?”

The guard’s woman shrugged, “That and the look in his eyes.”

Anders chuckled, “Just mine?”

A small smile touched Aveline’s lips, softening her features, giving her an unexpected beauty. “She’s been looking at you like that for years.”

Anders nodded, clearly chagrined. And so another odd day took shape. Aveline had the two of them run a couple of strange and very small errands within the barracks. And Sekhmet wondered what on earth was going on with Aveline that she’d call in help for such ridiculousness when Anders snickered behind her.

“Remind me not come to you for advice on courtship, Aveline.” 

Sekhmet thought he’d lost his mind for a moment, but then it started to make sense, bizarre and awkward sense, but sense nonetheless. “By the Maker, he’s right isn’t he?”

Aveline nodded, “And I’ll thank you not to laugh.”

“Oh, I have no intentions of laughing. You can’t imagine half the ridiculous things I did over the last several years.” She’d made an ass of herself over and over and over again for Anders’ sake.

“Which reminds me,” Anders whispered close to her ear, “we should find that outfit.”

She felt her cheeks flame with heat, even though there was no way Aveline could have heard him. And even if she had managed to hear him it wasn’t as if she would know what Anders was talking about. Still, she turned and glared pointedly at him. Anders just smirked at her.

It turned out Aveline was afraid, maybe of failure or rejection, but either way it was crippling her. And when Aveline asked, “What about you and Anders? He’s all but cursed, how do you live with that danger?” Sekhmet hadn’t been able to answer right away.

The truth was she wasn’t afraid, she couldn’t say why. Maker knew it seemed like everyone else was afraid for her. She wasn’t afraid of Anders losing himself or of Justice attacking her again. She’d survived it before and if the need arose, she would likely survive it again.

She could feel Anders’ eyes on her as she tried to figure out what to say. What explanation could she give Aveline that the guard captain would understand? Anders shifted uncomfortably and Sekhmet reached out, slipping her fingers between his, giving his hand a soft squeeze. She looked up at him and smiled, trying to let him know not to worry.

He nodded faintly, understanding her message even if he wasn’t completely able to comply.

She looked at Aveline with a smile and shrugged, “Maybe Anders and I aren’t the best example. Fear and I aren’t very well acquainted.”

Anders snorted, “You can say that again.”

After a bit more discussion, with Aveline constantly hedging, they decided to get Donnic to the Hanged Man, without out letting him know he was going to meet Aveline. Getting him to agree was easy enough. Aveline agreed to meet them there and Anders suggested they meet her outside the tavern to make sure that she actually managed to make it past the door.

As they were leaving the Keep Anders shook his head, “Life is too short, she should just get Donnic alone in a room.”

Sekhmet laughed, “Are you kidding me? You, Anders? Really? And just what gives you the right to criticize her taking her time?”

He gripped her wrist lightly and pulled her into a darkened alcove. Fitting her against him he dropped his head, his lips pressing gently against hers, even as his arms tightened into a fierce hug. When he broke the kiss he whispered against her ear. “Because the worst she has to fear is rejection.”

Alluding to the fact he was possessed, obviously. And he was right. Anders had far more to fear than Aveline, and maybe someone should point that out to her. If she and Anders could find a bit of happiness, than it should be easy for Aveline to find her own, to go after it, grab it and hold on for dear life.

And so Sekhmet and Anders spent the afternoon together, walking around Hightown and talking. Sekhmet did a bit of shopping and Anders did his best to keep her company. She’d been surprised by how talkative he was, usually Anders kept fairly quiet while they travelled. Yet now, he seemed to have something to say about nearly everything. Commenting on blades she was interested in, warning her away from some merchants, and amusedly observing her shopping. 

He was funny, and charming, and sweet. He didn’t touch her, a large switch from inside the estate, but he paid rapt attention to her. And the way he talked to her, stream of consciousness, no holding back. Like as soon as a thought popped into his head he spoke it aloud, telling her how beautiful she was, how he adored the way she smelled, that he adored her laugh. 

He stopped, only once, too look at something. Seemingly mesmerized by some enchanted leather armor, touching it’s soft folds and caressing them gently. And as he stared at it with what was obviously longing she decided she’d have to commission some new armor for him, immediately. What good was her money if she couldn’t lavish it on the man she loved?

She kept the armorer busy looking at other things so Anders could look his fill, uninterrupted. And after a few minutes her darling mage jerked his hand away and looked around, guiltily. He spotted her and gave her a sheepish smile. She smiled in return, amused at his reaction.

“We should go,” he ventured a gentle touch to her arm.

She gave a faint nod, “If you’d like.”

His eyes slid to the black leather again, “Just a bit of idle fancy. How many blades did you look at today?”

She grinned, “As many as I could without driving you mad, but you’re right. Let’s get to the Hanged Man.”

She was surprised to find Aveline already there, waiting. “Where have you been?” The guard captain hissed at the both of them.

“You said tonight, and it isn’t even dark yet.” Sekhmet could see the tension in Aveline’s rigid posture. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s here; now let’s go in before he leaves.” Aveline tugged her gloves tighter as she spoke.

Sekhmet was disappointed that Aveline was still in her uniform, but she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised. Aveline lived and breathed the guard; it was all she seemed to know anymore. And just maybe she felt a little safer wearing it.

As soon as they stepped inside the door Aveline froze, she looked like a rabbit getting ready to run. Anders must have sensed it because he moved between Aveline and the door, not so subtly blocking her retreat. After several tense moments she turned and strode purposefully to the bar and ordered a drink. 

“If this doesn’t work, we’re locking them in a room together.” Anders whispered in Sekhmet’s ear.

“Not sure it’ll work; we were closed in together plenty.” She smiled, so he’d know she was teasing.

He smirked at her, and let his eyes very pointedly roam over her body. “That because none of our friends had the good sense to lock us in, or make sure we were completely alone.”

She shrugged, “Not sure it would have mattered, there isn’t a lock made I can pick.”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear again, “What makes you think I would have let you up long enough to pick a lock?”

She shivered, still amazed that they’d finally gotten past the damned wall he’d erected between them so long ago, and more than a little aroused at the mental imagery he was conjuring up. “Behave,” she whispered.

He shook his head, with a smirk. “Never again, you’re stuck with me now.”

She grinned, couldn’t help it. She loved playful Anders. 

Aveline downed her drink and ordered another. As she waited she looked at the two of them with disgust, “And I thought watching you two mope over each other was bad. I think this is worse.”

Sekhmet tried to suppress her smile and failed, “Sorry, we’re here for you. Now Donnic is standing right over there, let’s go say hello.”

Aveline shook her head, “No, you go over first. Don’t say anything about me. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Sekhmet sighed, “You’re not going to leave are you? I don’t think him and I have much to talk about while we wait for you to grow a spine.”

Aveline glared hard at her, “You’re supposed to be helping me, not insulting me.”

“Fine, just hurry it up.” She crossed to Donnic and said hello, ushering him to a table and buying a round of drinks. The conversation was beyond stilted. She found the man utterly boring, or maybe she just wanted to get back to Anders, who was standing in a darkened corner watching her. He was annoyed, the muscle twitching periodically in his jaw giving him away.

She tried to relax, to find something to talk about while they waited for Aveline to get herself together, or to pour enough booze down her throat to lose her inhibitions, either one would work at this point. But Donnic didn’t find her humor funny, and had no interest in philosophical pursuits. And the few times she tried to engage him about Aveline he scowled and shut the conversation down.

Still, she kept trying, plying the man with more and more alcohol, while she kept nursing the one ale and watching Anders and Aveline out of the corner of her eye. They were arguing, quietly, but animatedly. Aveline proud and stubborn and Anders looking so furious she was surprised Justice hadn’t made an appearance.

Eventually, after what felt like the longest evening of her life Aveline waived and caught her eye. She shook her head and gestured, basically calling the whole thing off. When she started towards the door Anders grabbed her arm and dragged her up the steps towards Varric’s suite.

Should Sekhmet stay here and try to keep Donnic from leaving? Maybe Anders would be able to talk some sense into her, or maybe Anders was going to get back up in the form of Varric’s golden tongue. If anyone could talk some sense into Aveline it would be Varric.

So she stayed where she was and tried to keep Donnic occupied a while longer. Eventually, not even the free drinks were enough to keep him there. “Look, if this was all an attempt to get closer to me through the Captain, uh, you’re just not my type. All this playing shy business, I like a little backbone. I have to go, thanks for the drinks.” And with that he was gone.

And as upset as she was that things hadn’t worked out to get him and Aveline together, she was more relieved to have him gone. She stood and headed to Varric’s suite where Aveline and Anders were still arguing. Varric was just sitting at his table looking vaguely amused.

“Enough,” she finally yelled when the two of them didn’t even notice her coming in.

Anders turned at the sound of her voice and she watched as all the tension seeped from him. Relief calmed him, washing the red from his face. And a small smile touched his lips. What had her dashing apostate been so worried about?

Aveline, didn’t relax, in fact, she became even more rigid and tense. “I…I couldn’t do it. What did he say?”

Sekhmet smirked, “He thinks I’m interested in him.”

Anders slid into a chair, “I told you, Aveline.”

The guard captain ignored him and shook her head in exasperation, “I’m an idiot.”

Sekhmet moved to settle down in the chair next to Anders. And immediately his placed his hand on her knee under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. Warmth flooded her, happiness at being close to him again, to have him touching her again, in even so simple a way. She placed her hand on top of his, only to have him turn his hand over so he could hold her hand. 

She noticed he was being careful to keep all movement and touching hidden under the table but chose to ignore it for now. Anders wasn’t trying to hurt her, or make her feel guilty. He just wasn’t ready to show his more affectionate side in front of others yet, or at least she hoped that was the case. 

She looked up at Aveline who remained standing. “You might be an idiot on occasion, but at least you can admit it. So, where’s this little adventure headed to next?”

Aveline hung her head a little, it was sad to see her looking so defeated, “The barracks, Ferelden, the deepest hole I can find?”

Sekhmet gestured for Aveline to sit down so she didn’t have to keep craning her neck to see. When Aveline was finally settled into a chair across from her Sekhmet took a good look at the guard captain. And for once Aveline’s face was an open book, she was clearly ashamed and still there was that fear, a lingering fear that Sekhmet just could not understand. “I don’t understand this Aveline. You’re a strong woman, always been the type to go after what you want. A little hard work never slowed you down before. And you’ve definitely never been the hiding type.”

Aveline rubbed her forehead and sighed heavily. “I know, alright, but I freeze up. The only place I’m not a mess is on patrol, and killing highwayman doesn’t afford much opportunity for banter.”

Sekhmet giggled, “Oh, I don’t know I think Anders and I did alright.”

Anders, however, was not amused. He seemed so angry with Aveline, “More excuses?” 

Aveline face turned hard, angry at Anders goading. “I will not risk…”

“Then you will have nothing!” He snapped, interrupting her.

Aveline just stared at Anders, as if he were foreign creature. And Anders hummed with anger next to her. What exactly was going on here?

Sekhmet tried to diffuse the situation, “He does have a point Aveline. Obviously, this man means a lot to you or we wouldn’t have been playing these games all day. Sooner or later you’re going to need to talk to him. Unless, of course, you’re planning on admiring him from afar while pining away?”

Aveline was looking at her now, anxious but the anger seemed to have faded. “But I can’t fight and talk.”

Sekhmet shrugged, “So you’ll pick a route, mark it out so I know where to go. Anders and I will clear the path ahead of you, leaving plenty of time for you and Donnic to talk.” She smirked, “And you can see if he’s the one.”

Tension bled from Aveline, and she smiled the slightest bit. It was always amazing how much a smile transformed Aveline. “You’re too good at this is it any wonder you’ve all but taken Hightown? You clear the way up the Wounded Coast and I…I will think of something to say.”

And so they did, Sekhmet and Anders cleared the way. Periodically lighting signal fires to let Aveline know the coast was clear. Watching as she continually botched forging some kind of connection with Donnic. Considering Aveline seemed to be as bad at conversation as Donnic, they really should have gotten along much better.

Besides bandits and vicious a dog pack Sekhmet was busy dealing with Anders. Anders was like a randy teenager. He made inappropriate comments about the way she looked in her leather armor, about what sexual position he was imaging them in, about how much he was looking forward to taking her clothes off again. 

And when he wasn’t making lewd comments he was groping her, skimming a hand over her hip, fondling her ass in her leather armor, cupping a breast and squeezing it slightly. She chided herself for liking his unabashed appreciation for a body she had always found quite plain. And every so often he seemed to lose his restraint all together and would pull her into an intense kiss, making her head swim with the passion he managed to pour into those kisses. She was half mad with wanting him, and he kept teasing her. 

He teased himself too. She’d had no idea how aroused he’d been making himself until he pulled her back behind some foliage. He bent down and kissed her, his mouth demanding she give him everything and she did. He tugged at the laces of his trousers, panting and breathless as he kissed her again and again, fierce kisses.

When they were untied and loosed he reached for her hand and tugged her glove off, dropping it to the ground. He moved backing her up against a tree, trapping her there. His kisses became more fevered, he nipped at her lips, his breathing increasing again as he slid her hand inside the front of his trousers and inside his smalls.

He wrapped her hand around his cock and groaned. “Fuck, Sekhmet, this can’t be over fast enough.” He panted between kisses. He held her hand in a tight grip around him and pumped his hips, sliding her hand up and down his length a few times. “As soon as their gone, I need to have you.”

“Here?” She gasped, surprised by his fervor.

He squeezed her hand around his cock and pulled back to smile at her, “Does it feel like I’m going to make it back to the estate?”

Her head was spinning; this was a whole new side to her darling mage. She’d never seen him like this, so yearning and desperate. The idea that being with her had done this to him was empowering. After all the times he’d stopped, he’d rejected her; here he was practically begging her. 

She needed to try to pull herself together. They were supposed to be clearing the path for Aveline and Donnic. What if she walked blindly into an ambush because Sekhmet was too busy indulging her libido? She pushed at him, “Anders we need to stop.” Her voice was tremulous when she spoke, lacking any real conviction. She slid sideways away from his kisses and pulled her hand back. After a quick check to make sure she was at least somewhat presentable she strode out of the foliage and back onto the path.

Anders followed after her, chuckling at her hasty retreat. “Sorry, love, you’re just irresistible.”

She snorted, “If that was true we would have been doing this years ago.”

Anders fell completely silent. She stopped and looked at him to make sure he was alright. His face gave him away, such a mix of sadness and desire. It was a strange combination. But then he smiled, a small smile, more of a smirk. 

“What’s that look for?” She asked warily.

He walked over to her and pulled her against his body, his still hard cock pressed into her belly. “I’m going to make love to you in every single spot I’ve imagined making love to you for the last four years. And when I’m done, do you know what you’re going to realize?”

Gah, that voice, that seductive low rumbling voice he used when he was aroused never failed to make her own heart race. “What?” The word a breathy, excited sigh.

His smirk grew and his eyes sparkled with mischief, “That there isn’t an inch of Kirkwall where I haven’t been inside of you.” And with that he let her go, turning to walk away. “Now, let’s get this over with so I can get started. I’m going to be a very busy man.”

For a moment she couldn’t move, she was stunned and more than a little aroused. The man was impossible. He was dangerous and indescribably sexy and somehow managed to make her feel sexy. And as ridiculous as it may have sounded, it made her feel loved. She’d never associated sex with love before, but each caress, each kiss from him felt like a declaration of his love. And she lapped it up like a kitten would lap up milk.

She got herself in motion, and caught up with him. They encountered slavers right before they reached the end of the route Aveline had marked out for them. She and Anders worked quickly to dispatch them then pull them off the path. 

When they were done they strolled to the end of the route to wait for Aveline. While they waited Anders moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his scent and the warmth of his body. She felt safe and secure and treasured in his embrace.

He kissed her hair, and whispered softly. “I love you, Sekhmet.”

She snuggled back against him, “I love you.”

It was a sweet embrace, a loving embrace and she basked in it. He might have been incorrigible all day, but at his core Anders was a sweet and loving man. A man she could imagine spending her life with, fighting at his side, killing Templars and running when they needed to. As long as he held her like this and told her he loved her she’d follow him anywhere.

He inhaled deeply, “And when Aveline and Donnic are gone, you’re going to ride me, right here.”

She must have made some noise of surprise because he chuckled at her again. She wasn’t sure how to react to this always hungry Anders, this Anders who seemed to always be starving for her. And thankfully she didn’t have to. 

Aveline’s red hair came into view and Anders let her go, stepping away from her. He gave her hand a quick squeeze as he moved to stand beside her and wait for Aveline. Already, she missed his touch, missed being in his arms. 

Aveline was clearly surprised to see the two of them. No doubt she figured Sekhmet and Anders would have left her and Donnic alone to their own devices. Sekhmet was tired of Aveline’s pussyfooting around though. It was time to give her a real push.

“Aveline,” and she could hear the exasperation in her own voice.

Aveline cut her off, “Hawke,” she held her hands up as if to ward Sekhmet off, or to try to make her be quiet, “don’t!”

“You’ve accomplished nothing so far. We’ve been out here most of the day and nothing?” She wasn’t going to let Aveline to side step and avoid this time.

Poor Donnic looked so confused, “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Anders snorted beside her, “Are you blind man? Kiss her already!”

Donnic looked even more confused, and turned to Aveline, “Captain?”

And Aveline, brilliant conversationalist that she was, just chuckled nervously in response.

And that was it, enough strangeness to make Donnic bolt. “I should get back to the barracks.” With that he was off. 

Aveline finally regained herself and rounded on Sekhmet. “I thought we were friends.”

Sekhmet shook her head, “And I thought you were a woman capable of speaking her mind. Aveline, we are friends, but at this point you’ve left me no choice but to push.”

“Or walk away and leave you to fend for yourself,” Anders piped in.

Aveline was quiet for a long moment, turning from her and Anders to stare out at the horizon. She and Anders stayed still waiting for Aveline to figure out what to do from here. When she turned back instead of being calmed by the gorgeous view she seemed even more uptight and anxious. 

“I have to fix this, he’ll file a complaint, ask for a transfer.” She glared at Sekhmet, “You, you’re coming to barracks to explain why you put him on the spot. Double time Hawke, or so help me.” And with that she spun on her heel and started to stomp off.

Sekhmet, not wanting Aveline to get into trouble over this whole mess started after Aveline. She was pulled up short by Anders latching onto her arm. She turned back to him and saw his eyes were narrowed at her, but his eyes were dark honey.

“Where do you think you’re going?” that deep rumbling voice strumming at the core of her.

She smirked, realizing he wanted her to stay, and to play out the fantasy he’d been harboring all day. “To the barracks.”

“But I need you, now.” He growled. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to relieve yourself. After all, didn’t you have four years of practice?” With that she slipped her arm free and hurried after Aveline.

Anders snarled, “Dammit,” but followed after her as well.

When they reached the barracks Donnic was nowhere to be seen, which sent Aveline off on another tizzy, pacing and wringing her hands. “Maker, where is Donnic? I have to head this off before it goes to the viscount. Maybe a formal apology, something that shows the guard they can still trust me.”

Sekhmet was trying very hard not to laugh at Aveline. She was obviously worried, but the whole situation suddenly struck Sekhmet as hilarious. A simple courtship turned into this big circus. “Try the copper marigolds again, in hindsight they weren’t the worst option.”

Aveline ceased her pacing long enough to glare, “It’s not funny.”

A snicker slipped out unbidden. “I beg to differ.”

Aveline took a menacing step towards Sekhmet, “You’ll beg for more than that if you keep this up.”

And Sekhmet almost lost it, almost erupted into a fit of giggles that would have sent Aveline off for sure. She was rescued at the last possible minute my Donnic’s very timely, if confusing arrival. How _had_ he managed to show up after them? Had he gone off to do some thinking of his own?

He cleared his throat trying to get their attention, “My apologies serrah Hawke but I need a moment with the captain.”

Aveline’s whole body changed, gone were the clenched fists and gritted teeth, in their place a tentative and nervous smile. “Guardsman Donnic.”

“Please,” he gestured towards her office, probably wanting some privacy.

Aveline for some reason turned to Sekhmet, almost like she was looking for permission. So, Sekhmet nodded, anything to urge her on. The guard captain in turn looked to Donnic and tilted her head towards her office and two of them disappeared inside.

Anders gently ran his fingers down the back of her arm. “Good, can we go now?” he asked, impatiently.

She shook her head, “Not yet, I want to know how it turns out, don’t you?”

“No, I need to be alone with you.” He whispered in return.

She was about to respond when she heard Aveline giggling from within the office. She shook her head glad it seemed to be working out alright. She fought the urge to listen and moved away from the door a little so she wouldn’t be tempted.

“There, everything is going well. We can leave.” His hand touched her upper back and he started to guide her from the barracks.

She turned and pulled away, even though his impatience and insistence was making her smile. “I don’t think waiting a few more minutes is going to kill you.”

He arched a brow at her, amused. “And how do you know? Are you a healer now?”

Before she could respond the door to Aveline’s office opened and Donnic came striding out, a huge smile on his face. He gave a faint nod as he passed Sekhmet, but continued on to wherever he was headed. Sekhmet rushed into Aveline’s office, ready to find out exactly what had happened.

Aveline was leaning against the side of her desk with a beautiful and beaming smile on her face. “Guardsman Donnic…did not file a complaint.”

Sekhmet laughed a little, happy for Aveline. “Yeah, I gathered that.”

Aveline had a dreamy look on her face, a look Sekhmet would have never imagined. The woman was obviously smitten. “This was all incredibly stupid and you made it wonderful.”

“I don’t know about that. I think those both have more to do with you than with me.” She couldn’t suppress her smile. Seeing Aveline happy made her feel ridiculously good.

Aveline wistful, youthful smile still on her face, grass green eyes shining sighed, “You’re sweet, I knew asking you was the right thing.”

Sekhmet was surprised, “Really? And I thought you only like to call me in to wreak havoc.”

Anders snorted behind her, “Isn’t that what you just did?”

She giggled, “Yeah, maybe.”

Aveline settled onto her desk, and with the movement Sekhmet finally realized how relaxed Aveline was. She wasn’t stiff and formal as was her wont. “I just…there’s no way I can ever repay you. Perhaps it’s simple, thank you.” She suddenly perked up, “Hey, can I ask you something? Was there a moment you thought I was beyond help?”

Sekhmet suppressed the desire to roll her eyes. “Don’t ruin the moment; it was hard work getting here.”

Aveline nodded, “Alright, fair enough. Shout when you need me Hawke, I’ll always be here for you. Just… knock first.”

Sekhmet giggled, “Will do, now if you don’t mind, I have to get Anders home before he expires on your floor.”

Aveline narrowed her gaze at Anders’ dazzling smile. “No, I don’t want to know, just go.”

Anders swept up behind her, hand on the middle of her back and quickly ushered her from Aveline’s office. Sekhmet had a feeling she had a long afternoon ahead of her .


	42. This Blade Of Mine

Maddening, that was the only word for it. He finally allowed himself to be with her, the woman who had haunted him for years. Yet, all day today she’d been held just out of grasp. He’d spent most of the day hard and aching, needing her so desperately. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her.

Why? He wasn’t sure, and didn’t care. All he cared about right now was that he was sitting here at the table with her mother and all he could think about was spreading Sekhmet out on the table and enjoying her body under the crystal chandelier, with rainbows and firelight dancing over her gloriously pale white skin.

Leandra had snagged them before they’d made it through the foyer, asking them to take afternoon tea with her. Sekhmet had flashed him a devious smirk before she had agreed to join Leandra. The little minx was purposely dragging this out. 

It had only been hours since he’d made love to her so why did he feel so desperate, so needy? It was a thousand different things, all building on top of one another. He watched her openly now instead of trying to hide it, and in so doing caught all the little things he’d missed before, trying not stare.

The way her hair caught the sunlight, it looked like light reflected on water. How sharp her clear blue eyes were, always catching the slightest movement, how her hips swayed when she walked, oh how those hips swayed, hypnotizing him. How much it looked like dancing when she fought, how she threw little smiles over her shoulder at him before taking on another opponent. It heated his blood and made him crave her.

The longer the tea went on and the longer he needed to trade banter with Leandra and Sekhmet the more determined he became. When he finally got his little lioness alone he was going to make love to her again and again until neither one of them could move. He’d glut himself on her body, her scent, her taste, and her feel until this craving, this addiction was completely sated.

“Pardon me, but there is a visitor here to see Mistress Hawke.” Bodahn interrupted politely.

“By all means, show them in Bodahn.” Sekhmet set down her tea and stood to brush a few crumbs from the trousers she’d changed into on their return.

Anders felt a ripple of anger shoot down his spine when Varric walked into the library. If Varric was here he likely needed Hawke’s help with a job, or had a lead he needed followed up. He had no desire to see his plans with Sekhmet waylaid again.

Varric opened his mouth to speak then stopped short on seeing Anders. A slow smile spread across his face. “Why, good afternoon Blondie, good to see you out and about.”

Anders nodded, having no desire to engage Varric in conversation and draw out what was already a torturous afternoon, or to feed the man’s story repertoire. 

Unperturbed Varric turned to Sekhmet, “Have a business proposition for you, Hawke.”

Leandra stood, “I’ll clear out so you three can discuss business. Varric,” she moved to the teapot, “would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you ma’am, but I appreciate the offer.” He moved out of the door way and let her pass.

Once she was gone Varric sat down in the chair she had been sitting in. He grinned at Sekhmet and Anders, “Tell me this isn’t just tea. For the love of the Ancestors, tell me Blondie finally got his head out of his ass.”

Sekhmet grinned, “It’s not just tea.”

Varric chuckled, “Well, hallelujah to that then!”

Anders remained quiet; he wondered what Varric’s stories would say about them now. He was sure the rest of Sekhmet’s so called companions would all be aware of his and Sekhmet’s change in status before the evening was out, as well as the rest of Kirkwall. The last thought gave him a little pause, finding out that Sekhmet had an apostate lover was going to make her even less popular with the Templars in Kirkwall. 

Granted, there were rumors enough already, but if he moved in here there would be no need for rumors. He’d promised Leandra, and he wouldn’t lie, but perhaps he could put it off for a time. The last thing Sekhmet needed was more problems at her door.

“So what is this business you want to discuss?” Sekhmet prompted as she sat back down.

Varric sat back in the chair, looking a bit more serious. “It’s for Daisy, she needs something from her clan and can’t go alone. I thought I might talk you into going with her.” 

Sekhmet was quiet for a few moments and Anders watched as tension crept into her shoulders making them stiff, “I suppose it’s the least I can do.”

Varric shook his head, “You should give her a chance, Hawke. She’s a nice girl.”

“She’s a blood mage.” She snapped back.

Varric sat forward, eyes narrowing. “And so was your father.”

Anders reached out and touched Sekhmet’s arm, convinced she was going to jump out of the chair and kill Varric right there. She looked to his hand, traced a finger over the back of it and shifted but stayed seated, for which Anders was grateful. 

“My father was forced to use blood magic by the Grey Wardens in order that my pregnant mother might live. Not exactly the same thing, Varric.” Her voice was even, most people might even assume she was calm, but Anders knew better. She was a hairsbreadth from fury.

“So, you’re fine with an elf that rips people’s hearts out, also fine with the possessed mage who has repeatedly tried to kill you. But a blood mage is too much? Maybe if she had a dick you’d like her more.” Varric growled at her, voice low and dangerous.

Anders had heard enough, he’d been about to stand and escort Varric from the estate when Sekhmet stood. He stood beside her, watching her warily. He liked Varric, most of the time, and didn’t want to see the man hurt, even if he had crossed the line.

Sekhmet crouched in front of Varric, who was undaunted, and glared at him, her face inches from his. “I’d like Merrill better if she wasn’t so stupid about using her blood magic. I’d like her better if she had a bit of common sense. I’d like her better if she actually understood the danger of the power she wielded. I don’t find her naivety endearing, I find it frightening. She sees nothing wrong, or hazardous with what she is. At least Anders and Fenris understand how dangerous they are, and do their best to act accordingly, while Merrill whips out her blood magic to spar with her friends.”

She stood up and started to walk away then stopped, “I’ll help her Varric, but you make sure she understands if she turns her blood magic on one of us, for any reason, I’ll kill her, put her down like a rabid dog.”

Varric rose from the chair, “Fine, I will. Do I have your word you won’t hurt her as long as she keeps her magic to herself?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

He shook his head, “No, I suppose I don’t. I can’t go with you. I have a few things I need to take care of here in Kirkwall, but Rivani has agreed to go in my stead.”

Anders cringed inwardly. Sekhmet and Isabela spent most of their time bickering, not exactly a good combination with Merrill. Looked like he had a few days of trying to play peace keeper ahead of him.

Sekhmet nodded, “Fine.”

“Should I tell her to expect you in a few hours?” Varric was already headed for the door.

“No,” Anders finally spoke up. There was no way he was going to let Sekhmet deal with Merrill and Isabela as wound up as she was now. Besides, he already had plans for this afternoon, and tonight, and… “We’ll see them in the morning.”

Varric nodded, looked between them for a moment, started to say something and closed his mouth, started again, and closed it again. Finally, he managed to figure out what he wanted to say. “Thank you for this. Come down to the Hanged Man, soon. I owe you a few rounds.” And then he left.

Sekhmet took a deep breath and settled back down on the chair she had been sitting in. She picked up her tea and sat back. Not sure of her mood Anders sat back down as well. He watched her for a few minutes before he spoke.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently.

She looked at him and smiled, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That was some row you just had with Varric.” 

She set her tea down and smiled, “Over and done with, besides, he apologized.”

Anders furrowed his brow; he didn’t remember hearing an apology. “I guess I missed that.”

She chuckled a little, “What did you think the offer of drinks at the Hanged Man was?”

“Ah, I see.” It was almost funny how she could let things just roll off her back with some people, like him and Varric, but with others she held a grudge like nobody’s business.

She leaned over and took his hand, lifting it and kissing each of his finger tips. “Can I assume you wanted to wait until morning because you have plans?”

He smirked, she knew him so well. “You should tell your mother we won’t be down for supper.” He stood, kissed her cheek and then headed up to her room.

He removed his boots and socks, not wanting to deal with them later. He took the leather thong from his hair, letting it fall down around his shoulders, then took a seat in a chair next to the fire. Already his body was waking up, wanting her and she wasn’t even in the room yet.

She was only gone for a few minutes but he was impatient and needy by the time she came into the room and locked the door behind her. “Come here,” a gentle command, but a command all the same.

She walked to him with a smile. He pulled her onto his lap, and worked to pull the pins from her hair. When it hung in around her shoulders he slipped his hand to the nape of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. A soft press against her lips at first, a gentle rocking, a low hum of pleasure. He felt her relax, the kiss unwinding some of the tension pulling her tight like a bow string.

He pressed a little more firmly, feeling her lips yield under the added pressure. She had such soft lips, lips always ready and eager to open for him. He tilted his head and ran the tip of his tongue over her upper lip, relishing the shiver that ran through Sekhmet’s body. He cupped her face, tracing his thumb over her high cheekbone. 

“Anders,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

He pulled back, for just a moment to see if there was something she wanted or needed, but she just looked at him. Pleasure bloomed in his chest. Just his name on her lips, an evocation, a devoted sigh. And was there a better sound in the world? Well…he could think of one.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip before kissing her again. The slightest hint of his tongue and her lips parted for him. And he was swept away in the taste of her, the wind, and rain and thunder of her spirit that came through in those amazing kisses. It was silly, to be sure, but he was addicted to those kisses, to the passion in them, to the taste of them. The taste he could only think of as her spirit.

She slipped her hands into his long hair, carding up into it and cradled his head, even as he cradled hers. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up, as testament to how completely she affected him. He shifted her and tilted her head to trail kisses down over her chin and across her neck, nuzzling her, tasting her skin, savoring her scent. 

The warmth and slight weight of her sitting on his lap was enough to make him feel content, more complete. He needed this, needed her everyday. “ _Mine_ ”, the thought echoed in his head again. Someone for him, and only him, someone he could love and that could love him. Someone who was so perfectly matched to him, need for need, desire for desire, and even fight for fight. She was incredible, this was incredible.

And he wanted her skin right now. He pushed her tunic aside to nuzzle and kiss along her collar bones and the crook of her neck. Her warm soft skin felt divine under his lips. Her breathing became slightly erratic and soft little noises escaped her. He wanted more, he treasured her, adored her, he needed her.

He dropped his hands to her waist gathering up the fabric of her tunic. His hands skimmed up over her beautiful, scarred skin as he pushed it up. He stopped kissing and nuzzling her wonderful skin only long enough to move the fabric past his lips and pull the tunic the rest of the way off her. 

He licked and teased her slightly salty skin, savoring the softer skin now exposed. He shifted her back on his lap so he could dip his tongue into her cleavage and feel the soft and warm skin of her breasts against his face. Her fingers tightened a little in his hair.

She was holding his head against her body as he lavished attention on her skin and he loved it. He loved the little noise of disappointment she made when he moved from her cleavage and back up to her other shoulder, kissing and nipping at her skin. He loved the way she tugged his head back away from her so she could kiss him again, her claiming his mouth this time.

She was heating up now, her kisses more aggressive, more demanding. But he had a long way to go before she was where he wanted her. He broke the kiss to return to her neck, less languid this time but still mostly tender, keeping the monster inside of him in check. 

He let his hand settle back on her waist, his thumb stroking gently across her skin. He could hold her like this, just kissing her soft skin for hours. He was addicted to everything about her, every tiny detail.

He let his teeth graze over her skin and shivered. The desire to bite her a brilliant flash he quickly suppressed. It was always one of the hardest things about being with her. He had such a desire to mark her pretty white skin, to brand her as his in some way. It was childish, ridiculous and he wouldn’t indulge himself that way.

To distract himself he reached up and quickly untied her breast band and cast it aside, baring her small pale breasts with their wine colored nipples to him. He cupped one breast, squeezing it gently, running his thumb over the nipple before bending to lightly, ever so lightly lick her other nipple. She shifted, pressing herself forward, more fully into his hand. 

He pulled away, flicking just the tip of his tongue over her nipple quickly. “Is someone else feeling impatient now?”

“Don’t tease me, Anders, please.” She whispered, squirming again.

He swirled his tongue over her nipple before sucking it gently, rolling it a little in his mouth. He felt it getting harder, heard her soft sigh and smiled against her breast. Seemed to him he hadn’t paid her breasts nearly enough attention since he’d been sharing her bed.

He cupped her breast, squeezing it gently, massaging it as he continued to tease her nipple with his mouth. With his other hand he cupped her other breast, massaging it as well, his thumb tracing slow circles around the nipple. Her breasts really were bloody marvelous. He laved his tongue over her nipple and she made a noise between a squeak and a moan.

She was so damned cute wriggling and moaning on his lap as he enjoyed the soft flesh of her breasts. She kept pressing herself more fully into his hands, wanting more stimulation. With a last long lick he switched to her other nipple, licking and sucking it as he had done to the first, letting his fingers caresses and tease her.

His long fingers pressed into her soft flesh, massaging it. Her breasts were small but incredibly responsive. Each touch, each caresses, each swipe of his tongue drawing a reaction from her. 

She arched her back pressing her breasts into him more, taking soft shuddery breaths. Her swollen nipple had a velvety texture in his mouth urging him to lick it again and again to feel it against his tongue. Sekhmet dug her fingers deeper into his hair and tightened her hold on him.

“Bite me,” she whispered, pressing her chest against his face again.

He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her, but he could be gentle. He let his teeth scrape gently against her flesh. The reaction was immediate, a moan followed by a shudder, so he tried again. This time he actually used his top and bottom teeth to tease ever so gently at her nipple.

“Yes, more,” she moaned grinding herself against him as she sat astride his lap.

He scraped his nail gently across one nail as he carefully bit the other and smiled when she hissed in a breath. His little lioness was even more sensitive than he had imagined. He fluttered his tongue against her nipple before using his teeth again. Her voice was getting louder and louder, unable to keep still on him.

He ached painfully, but was enjoying her reactions. Besides, he had more than a little practice denying himself. He switched nipples again, feeling a jolt in his groin at how dark he’d made her nipple with his ministrations. 

He swirled his tongue around the sensitive flesh and had to grip Sekhmet’s hip to stop her from grinding against him. She pulled at his hair with one hand and scratched at the back of the chair with her other hand, moaning again, panting. He really hadn’t expected such a big reaction from her, she was far more sensitive than he had realized.

And it seemed switching back and forth from the gentle bites to fluttering his tongue against her nipple drew an even bigger reaction. He could feel her squeezing his legs with her thighs as she writhed. He pulled back, releasing her nipple for a moment to look at her.

Her skin flushed, lips parted, head thrown back, snow white hair loose down her back, eyes closed as her head tilted back towards the ceiling. He couldn’t help but smile when she pulled him back to her breast. He obliged her happily enough, opening his mouth and covering her sensitive wine colored nipple. He teased her with his nail and bit her lightly again. 

She gasped, “Again”. When he did she cried out, “Fuck, yes.”

So he did it again, followed by a few swipes of his tongue and then bit and scratched her gently again. 

She lifted her head and surprised “oh” escaped her. 

He stopped, “Sekhmet?”

“Don’t stop,” It was soft and pleading.

And who was he to deny her? He teased and gently tormented her little nipples, a little more quickly than before being careful not to hurt her. Sekhmet stopped panting, in fact he wasn’t sure she was breathing at all. And then her thighs squeezed tight against his legs, her whole body started going rigid.

Wait, was she going to…surely not from just having her nipples played with. Oh, but he wanted to see that though. He switched from scraping her one nipple with his nail and pinched it, letting his nail press into the delicate flesh just the slightest bit.

Her body trembled bowing slightly backwards and then she was pulling his hair, his name tumbling from her lips as she pitched forward a bit shuddering. He pinched and bit a little harder and she cried out shaking more. He absolutely couldn’t believe it.

She’d really cum just from having her nipples stimulated. His little lioness was even more incredible than he had imagined. He let go and laved each nipple with a few gentle licks as her arms slid gently to encircle his neck. He relinquished even that as she leaned forward to rest against his chest.

She was quiet for a long time as she snuggled against him and he gently stroked her back, utterly amazed by his tiny woman. He’d had a lot of lovers, had sometimes even thought that there was nothing new he could do, could learn. Of course Sekhmet would be the one to prove him wrong.

The smell of her was driving him mad. So, he sat holding her as long as he could handle before he got up, placing her in the chair and kneeling in front of it. He slid her forward to the edge of the chair and spread her legs, settling himself between them.

“Anders?” Her voice was soft, almost trepidatious.

He paused and looked up at her, concerned. “Yes, love?”

“What…what did you just do to me?” She asked, her voice even more quiet.

He smiled, she had apparently been as surprised as he had. “Exactly what you asked me to.”

“But how did you make me…” she gestured vaguely.

“Cum?” His smile widened when she flushed. When she didn’t say anything he continued, “I’m not sure, but now that I know I can make you cum like that,” he reached out and gently pinched both her nipples at once making her moan again, “your nipples and I are going to get much better acquainted.”

He released them and gently pushed her thighs farther apart kissing her thigh, “For now, I want to taste you.” He licked the inside of her thigh, high up, tasting where her orgasm had slicked her flesh and had to suppress a shudder of his own. It was a surprise everytime he tasted her. 

Anders had always been a man of peculiar appetites. He loved the way an aroused woman smelled, the way she tasted, had since the first time he’d been brave enough to try it. Loved it so much he wasn’t sure there had been a woman in the tower, mage or otherwise, that he hadn’t tasted at least once. It was amazing what a Templar would help you do, or let you get away with if she’d just cum in your mouth.

But Sekhmet was a whole different animal; her sex was tart and sweet at the same time like some kind of exotic fruit. It was an addicting taste he couldn’t get enough of. Liked it so much in fact that he usually just kept licking and sucking on her sex until she made him stop.

Greedily, he licked her inner thighs clean of any traces of her orgasm. His tongue slid softly over the lips of her sex cleaning her, relishing her taste. And when there was no more trace of her taste there he slipped his tongue between her folds, a moan bubbling from him at the heady taste.

He wasn’t trying to arouse her again, not yet. Rapacious, he would clean every centimeter of her sex first, inside and out, before he truly tried to push her to another orgasm. Either way, Sekhmet seemed to be enjoying herself.

As he swirled his tongue around her clit Sekhmet’s hands twined back into his hair eliciting another moan from him. It urged him on; he wanted to feel her pulling him closer to her, really burying his head between her thighs. He wanted to feel her take over, directing him where to touch her, to taste her by moving him where she wanted him. 

He moved his tongue and pushed it inside of her and she lifted her hips for him, giving him better access. He slid his hands to cup the curves of her ass, to hold her up so he could more easily access deep inside of her. The taste of her was intoxicating and her scent filled his nostrils.

His Sekhmet, his beautiful, exotic Sekhmet. Maker, how had he gotten so lucky? How, after all the terrible things he’d done in his life, after what he had done to Justice how could he possibly deserve this exquisite creature? How could this incredibly passionate woman want him?

Sekhmet’s grip on him tightened and she pulled him tighter against his sex. He smiled and began to use the tip of his tongue to draw designs over her engorged clit. Her body jerked and shuddered as he swiped his tongue directly over it. And she was moaning for him now, her sexy voice making the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his skin tingle.

He pushed his tongue inside of her again, listening to her gasp. He’d had women joke before that his tongue was made for pleasing a woman. It, like so much of the rest of him, was long. He pushed it deep into Sekhmet’s body, wiggling it back and forth before swirling it inside of her. 

She squirmed and lifted her left foot to plant it on the edge of the chair. And he began to fuck her with his tongue, the dexterous muscle able to do things his cock never could. Sekhmet pulled his hair again and thrust her hips up at him.

He could feel the muscles of her body tightening. His little lioness would shatter apart in moments. For the briefest of seconds he thought about denying her, about bringing her to the very edge and leaving her there. He decided he wasn’t in the mood for games tonight though. He just wanted to enjoy Sekhmet’s body, her gasps and moans, to saturate himself in her pleasures.

When her right leg wrapped around him he was surprised by how much he liked it. Her holding him close to her, not letting him escape and the idea excited him. Her hands tightened in his hair even more, she pulled his head back and pushed it forward as her hips thrust into his face. She was fucking herself with his tongue, her pace quickening, her thrusts rougher. 

And then she squeezed him, her whole body pulling him tight against her, as she pushed back against him. He kept thrusting with his tongue until she clamped down on it and he was unable to move it at all, could only taste her orgasm as it squeezed him. He could barely breathe she was holding him so tight against her sex.

As soon as she relaxed her muscles the tiniest bit he started thrusting his tongue again and rocked his nose back and forth over her clit, immediately sending her into a second orgasm. She cried out in surprise. Her body jerking almost spasmodically as the second orgasm rocked through her. 

He briefly thought about pushing her to a third but the small spasms of her muscles told him she wasn’t ready, was too sensitive for another orgasm so soon. So he just gently licked her clean as she released her tight grip on him. And when she was clean he gently disentangled himself from her.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, glassy eyed, flushed and looking terribly content. She might be content, but he wasn’t done with her yet. As a matter of fact, he was still dressed.

He settled her onto the bed and stood, sliding his tunic off. He tossed it into the chair they had just vacated before climbing onto the bed with her. He tugged her close, unable to suppress a smile as she looked up at him, a lazy grin on her face.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She nodded, “Remind me to do this more often.”

He raised a brow in amusement, “Do what?”

Her smirk settled across her beautiful lips, “Make you wait.”

His little vixen, she had no idea. “Trust me, the next time you make me wait like this it won’t be quite so pleasant for you.”

“We’ll see.”

Yes, he was sure they would. And then he’d have to decide whether to tease her and fuck her without letting her cum or to show her what happened when she couldn’t stop cumming. Either way it would be good for him, and enlightening for her.

In the meantime, he was going to enjoy her a bit more. He pushed her legs apart again and moved to kneel between them. He traced his fingers over the silky soft flesh of her sex. She was still wet from his mouth and her recent orgasm. And from the way she squirmed she was still rather sensitive.

Sensitive, but not too sensitive, her body didn’t jerk and recoil protectively. She could take more stimulation. He ran the tip of his finger over her slit, just a feather light touch, up and back, up and back.

He leaned forward, holding himself up with one arm and kissed her as he slipped his finger between her nether lips to circle her clit slowly. She eagerly opened for him kissing him back, her arms winding around his neck. He shivered minutely as the hairs on the back of his neck and down his arms stood up and shivers ran down his spine.

The raging storm of her kiss swept through him making his heart pound. He pushed his finger inside of her much sooner than he had planned to, as that possessive thought rang through him. _“Mine.”_ He fingered her slowly, slipping out to circle her clit a few times before sliding back inside of her again.

His cock ached, desperately wanting to be inside of her, to at least be free of the confines of his clothes. He didn’t trust himself to finish what he set about to do if he released himself so he left his remaining clothes on for now. And his little lioness, who knew him so well clearly knew he was suffering.

She reached down and stroked him through his trousers. He broke that incredible kiss and growled at her. Not that it deterred her, nor was he sure it was meant to. She wrapped her hand around him as well as she could through the two layers of fabric and stroked him again. Her breath was coming in fast little gasps as she started pulling on his laces.

“Stop,” he begged, voice deep and ragged from him arousal.

She paused for a moment, relinquished the laces but returned to stroking him. He felt himself starting to lose control of his magic; it began to thicken in the air around them. For a moment he thought about stopping, but figured now was as good a time as any to get her acquainted to what it was like to drive a mage past his limit.

Her hand stilled and she let out an awed sigh. She started to sit up, her legs starting to close. He was less than pleased to have her pull away and for a moment was worried he had scared her. But when he looked up at her she was just staring into the air around them with wonder on her face.

Content she was fine he pushed her back down gently, “It won’t hurt us. Watch if you like, but keep your legs spread for me, I’m not done playing with you yet.”

“It’s fading,” she pouted as she spread her legs for him.

He smirked at her and took her hand, “That’s because you let me think about it too much.” He placed her hand back on his cock rubbing himself through his trousers with it. 

Her face lit up with a smile, “Oh!” She gripped him of her own volition and started to stroke him again and giggled a few moments later when the blue haze began to fill the air again. 

He kissed her, desperate for her taste, for the shock that rolled through him everytime he kissed her. A long, deep purr rumbled in his chest when she slipped her hand inside his trousers without untying them. Her bare hand wrapped around him caressing his hot flesh. The new touch was enough to send sparks dancing in the air around them.

Sekhmet broke the kiss to gasp and laugh. And he decided to take advantage of her distraction to push another finger into her, turning her laugh into a moan. He circled her clit with his thumb, he wanted her to cum one more time for him and then he would have her, get out of his damned clothes and finally take her.

He was surprised when some of the sparks didn’t blink out but seemed to fall and settle on the bed glowing for a few seconds before winking out. That was completely new. He worried they might be dangerous for a moment but when one landed on Sekhmet’s shoulder she’d just giggled that it tickled.

What on earth was she doing to him? He didn’t know, not really, but if her sudden tension was any indication he was about to make her cum again. He pulled himself out of his thoughts to concentrate on her, on pushing her to her peak so he could finally be inside her.

Her body coiled up, her knees drawing up, even her chest rising from the bed, then suddenly she shook, a long cry tearing from her lips as she shattered to pieces beneath him. Anders kept teasing her, drawing out her orgasm as he ripped at his trousers with his other hand.

He managed to get himself free, ruining his trousers in the process, and shifted to thrust deeply into her before her orgasm had subsided. There was a brilliant flash of light and the smell of ozone in the room for a moment. He realized distantly lightning had just arced through the room.

He couldn’t stop himself now though, he’d waited too long. And Sekhmet didn’t seem scared; she wrapped her legs around him, thrusting back against each of his own frantic thrusts. He was glad he’d made sure she was satisfied before he’d allowed himself to enter her. He wasn’t going to last very long.

He raced for his peak desperately needing release. Sekhmet’s cries of pleasure and kisses along his neck pushing him faster. And a few minutes later when she raked her short nails down his back another bolt of lightning sang across the room.

A dim thought that he had to be careful flickered in the back of his mind. He could start a fire if he wasn’t careful, or worse. But then she bit him, latched onto the spot where his neck and shoulder met. He saw white, and came all at once in one of the strangest and most intense orgasms he’d had in a very, very long time, a feral cry ringing out in the stone walls of her room.

He shuddered and clung to her as he slowly came down from that jagged peak. She’d stopped biting him, and in truth she hadn’t even bit him very hard. Perhaps it was how long he’d held himself back, or the fact that he’d lost control of his magic. He wasn’t sure what had made him cum like that but it had been intense, and now that it was subsiding he was exhausted.

********

[Click here to go back to Deviant Art](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-This-Blade-Of-Mine-391657467)

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Eventually, he pushed himself off her, collapsing onto his back. She immediately curled up against him resting her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her, grateful to feel her against him. He turned and kissed her forehead, not sure he could speak coherently yet.

She suddenly giggled and pointed at the ceiling, “Look what you did, you bad boy.”

He opened his eyes, which he hadn’t realized had drifted shut, and noticed three very distinct scorch marks on the ceiling. He couldn’t help himself, he laughed. It was absurd; he’d never lost control of himself like that before. He’d had some very intense and rigorous sexual exploits in his past, but he’d never ended up with lightning flying about.

“And if we’re going to be having sex like that we might want to find some way to stop the rest of the house from hearing it. I’m pretty sure everyone in the entire house heard you.” She teased him.

He shrugged, “I wasn’t the only one making noise, but you’re right. I think I’ll put a silence charm on the room next time. No need to traumatize anyone. For now, come here and give me a kiss.” He tried to pull her to him but she wiggled out of his grasp.

“Wait, I have something for you first.” She slipped out of the bed gingerly, making him think he’d left her a bit tender. 

He’d have to heal her when she came back. He didn’t want her in any discomfort considering how damned good he felt right now, light, happy and completely satiated. Relaxed in a way he rarely was, his beautiful Sekhmet was such a gift, a balm for his battered soul.

He watched her as she darted across the room naked. Her body so incredibly beautiful in the flickering firelight, he couldn’t help but watch her. She opened a chest and pulled out a case, setting it atop the chest before working the case open. He couldn’t see what lie inside the case as her body blocked his view, but whatever it was it was shiny, and was imbued with magic. He could feel the enchantments from across the room.

She pulled something out of the case and set it on the floor in front of her before closing the case and putting it away. And when she picked the item up from the floor she hid it behind her back before she came back to the bed and climbed in. She smiled and held out an incredibly beautiful dagger to him.

Slowly, he sat up and stared at it stunned for a few minutes; he recognized the dagger, sort of. Bethany had carried one that looked very similar to it, although the stones on the hilt were different. It was incredibly well made, and obviously very expense, and this close he could feel the ice enchantment on it.

“It’s beautiful Sekhmet, but I can’t accept it.” He couldn’t even bring himself to touch such a gorgeous piece of workmanship.

She scowled, “Why not?”

“That must have cost a fortune, love.” And he wasn’t particularly fond of blades, hence why Zevran had taught him to use his staff as a weapon, but he did feel a bit drawn to the sheer beauty of the one before him.

She sat back, but continued to hold the dagger out to him. “Whether it did or not is irrelevant. I knew when I bought them this one was for you. Look at the sapphire, how perfectly it matches the color of your magic. This blade was made for you.”

“Bought _them_?” Now she’d peaked his curiosity.

“Yes, I could only afford one of them before the Deep Roads and bought one for Beth. Well, more like I won one of them for Beth. But afterwards I bought the entire set. And I can’t return them because Nico retired with the small fortune I paid for these. So, for once accept a gift gracefully and just appreciate it.” She moved the dagger closer to him again.

She looked determined and he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer, at least not without a fight. And he so didn’t want to fight right now. He might not appreciate a good knife as much as Sekhmet, but even a fool could see how beautiful and what amazing skill went into the dagger she held out to him. So, he took it, an incredibly beautiful and oddly light weight blade. 

He supposed he might have to get used to being a kept man if he moved in with Sekhmet. She’d always been generous with her money, even when she hadn’t had any. It stood to reason, now that she had more, she’d be even more generous. 

He could either feel uncomfortable and awkward about it, which would likely only end in arguments and him eventually caving anyways. Or, he could learn to accept her gifts gracefully, which would hopefully lead to a happy Sekhmet. Something he very much wanted.

“Thank you, love.” He caressed her face and gave her a kiss, just a brief one. Then smiled at her, “You do know I don’t need gifts don’t you?”

Her lip twitched for the briefest moment into an indecipherable emotion then she smiled again, “I know.”

Was the flicker of unease he felt for any real reason or just because of that odd flicker? He wasn’t sure. For now, he would be content just to be held by her so he set the dagger on the small table beside the bed and laid back down, beckoning her to join him. “Come cuddle me for a bit. I’m feeling snuggly and want to enjoy it before I make love to you for the rest of the night.”

She giggled and lay back down with him, snuggling him tightly.

********

She hesitated before knocking on Merrill’s door. Maybe Varric was right and she should try to give Merrill a break. She’d already agreed to help, might as well try to make it as pleasant as possible. 

She looked over her shoulder to Isabela who’d had a smug smile on since Sekhmet had walked through the door of the Hanged Man with Anders by her side. He was still careful to keep his distance as he had when they had been shopping, but there was no doubt Isabela knew things had changed. 

Anders hadn’t looked terribly pleased, but she wasn’t dwelling on it. She was sure he had his reasons for being displeased she just hoped he would confide them to her when they were alone. Sekhmet glanced at him now and flashed him a smile, and was rewarded with the barest of smiles gracing his sensuous lips.

She knocked on the door and a brief moment later Merrill opened it. Her eyes went wide and she grabbed Sekhmet’s arm like an excited little kid. 

“Oh Hawke, I’ve got something to show you.” She dragged Sekhmet through her little house to the corner of her bedroom. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Sekhmet looked curiously at the object of Merrill’s fascination. It looked like an oddly intricately carved mirror, but the glass was blank. It didn’t reflect anything in the room, yet it wasn’t transparent either and the glass was cracked and missing in several places. Still, the workmanship of it was beautiful if a bit odd, “Of all the giant mirrors in your house Merrill, this one is easily the nicest.”

Merril bounce on her toes, “I knew that if anyone would understand, you would. I’ve spent the last few years restoring this. One of my clan found it in the Brescilian forest, we think. Poor Tamlen, we never found him, just the shattered pieces of the eluvian.”

“Eluvi-what?”

Merrill smiled faintly and spoke with a quiet awe. “Long ago the elves had a kingdom, an empire that covered Thedas. And every city had an eluvian, the mirrors let them communicate across their empire but I don’t know how exactly. My people have lost so much we remember almost nothing about the days before Arlathan. This is a piece of our history.”

So a magic mirror? She’d only heard of such things in fairy stories. Maybe papa was right, maybe there was a bit of truth to every story. “And this Tamlen you mentioned, the mirror somehow had something to do with his disappearance?” 

Merrill bit her lip, worrying it for a moment. “The ruin we tracked Tamlen to was full of traps and monstrous things, but we found no body. The trail ended at the broken pieces of the eluvian.”

Sekhmet rubbed her forehead, frustrated with Merrill. Was this just another reckless action on the girl’s part? “Tell me you didn’t bring the killer mirror to Kirkwall just because it’s pretty.”

Merrill shook her head and stepped closer to Sekhmet. “It’s not dangerous, I promise. I fixed it, or tried to, with blood magic. The mirror won’t hurt anyone.”

Anders had moved close behind Sekhmet when Merrill had approached her and now he hissed over her shoulder, “I cringe everytime she says that. She has no idea what she’s messing with.”

Anger flashed in Merrill’s eyes and she glared up at Anders, “I do, I have it totally under control.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, less sure now. “But it doesn’t work I’ve tried everything. I think it’s because it needs to be finished with a special tool?” She looked to Sekhmet, pleading with her eyes. “An arulin’holm my clan has one, it’s been in their hands for generations.”

Sekhmet was having a difficult time not telling Merrill she was nuts and should drop the whole thing. But, she’d told Varric she would help, and she didn’t know enough about the Dalish culture to really know whether the eluvian was truly dangerous or if Tamlen’s disappearance was just a coincidence. She just didn’t know enough about any of this. “What, exactly, are you trying to do with this mirror?”

Merrill seemed to relax marginally, “At first I just wanted to find Tamlen, but it’s been too long. Tamlen is probably dead by now if he wasn’t already. Still, I know it can help my people. I can at least recover this one small part of our heritage.”

Anders was still practically humming with tension behind her, but for now she chose to ignore it. If he wanted to argue with her about this, he’d have to wait until later. So, she focused on Merrill. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

A faint nod from the elven girl, “I can’t go back there alone. You have no idea, the Keeper I…I can’t talk to her. We fight or talk circles around each other. She has a disappointed frown that turns your bones to jelly.” And she really did sound anxious just talking about it.

Maybe she should go just to make sure Merrill didn’t go do something even more foolish on her own. She was curious now, “This thing is what made the Keeper send you away, isn’t it?”

Merrill’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “The Keeper wanted me to destroy the fragment I kept. She said our ancestors meant it to be forgotten. But it’s a Keeper’s place to remember. Even the dangerous things, we argued, I left.” She suddenly seemed filled with more confidence and purpose. “She’s wrong this mirror could teach us so much about who we once were.” And those big pleading eyes were back, “Please help me, you will won’t you?”

Sekhmet nodded, “I’ll go with you.”

Merrill practically jumped with excitement. “Ma serranas, I’ll find some way to repay you. I promise.”

And they were on their way, four unlikely travelling companions. Having Isabela along turned out to be a blessing as she kept Merrill occupied and away from both Sekhmet and Anders during the two day trek up the mountain. It was helpful because Anders couldn’t even stand to be civil to her for the most part.

The first night they’d set up camp Anders had set up his own tent, leaving Sekhmet disappointed to learn she’d be sleeping alone. Halfway through the night though, her darling mage had crawled into her tent with a sheepish smile, “I couldn’t sleep, I missed you.”

She’d giggled and the two of them had squeezed into her bedroll together. He made love to her, but had been so silent it had made her feel a little awkward. When it was over he held her close and kissed her, whispering in her ear. “I love you, but it scares me how much I need you already.”

“Because you couldn’t sleep?” 

He shook his head, “Not just that, all day not touching you, not being able to just grab you and kiss you, it was driving me crazy.”

She stroked his hair. “Then why are you doing that to yourself? They already know about the two of us, what’s the big deal if you touch me?”

“Besides the fact I don’t want to deal with the ribbing from Isabela? What if someone sees and it gets back to the Templars? You think they watch you close now? They’ll hound your every waking moment if they find you’ve become lovers with an apostate, especially if that apostate happens to be me.” He was scowling and she had to resist the urge to smooth his brow.

“You do know that most of Kirkwall thinks we’ve been lovers for years, right?” She wasn’t trying to goad him but he was being a little ridiculous.

“There’s a big difference between suspicion and proof. And if you flout it in front on the Templars you can be sure they _will_ punish you for it. And I won’t let that happen.” 

It was sweet that he wanted to protect her and a little annoying as well. “Alright, Anders, I understand. But, the chances of someone seeing us out here are very slim. And our companions would be the last ones to turn the two of us into the Templars, if for no other reason than they need us.” 

“Even Fenris?” How did the man manage to infuse so much anger and bitterness into two syllables?

She nodded, “Even Fenris because turning you in would mean turning me in. And he wouldn’t do that.”

He sighed, “I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m not sure I believe that myself.”

“At any rate, he’ll know sooner or later there’s nothing we can do to stop that. So stay away from me when we’re in Kirkwall if that’s what you feel you need to do. Don’t torture yourself, or me, when we’re out here in the middle of nowhere, there’s no point to it.” She kissed him softly, squealing in surprise when he rolled them so she was lying on top of him. She broke the kiss with a grin, “And just what are you doing?”

He smiled a roguish, puckish smile. “Getting a head start on having my hands all over you.” And with that he kissed her, his hands roaming over her soft flesh before he made love to her again. 

The rest of the trip up the mountain had been fun, Anders was able to shrug off Isabela’s big mouth and eventually she’d just fallen quiet when she hadn’t been able to get a rise out of him. And she’d only bothered Sekhmet once.

She'd come up close and whispered a slow seductive purr in her ear, “Just tell me one thing, is he as amazing in reality as he is in my mind?” 

Sekhmet had just smiled and whispered back, “Better.”

Isabela had laughed that strangely beautiful tinkling sound of hers and walked away, “Someday you two are going to wake up and find me in your bed.” And then she had jogged off to go giggle with Merrill.

When they reached the Dalish camp they were watched closely but no one stopped them. Marethari stood at the far side of the camp, hovering over a fire there as she always seemed to be. And Merrill stammered and stalled as she stood before her former mentor.

When she did finally speak it turned out that she’d roped Sekhmet and the others into some task, to kill a varterral, whatever that was. Funny, how the girl hadn’t mentioned anything about some dangerous task during the entire trip up the mountain. As far as Sekhmet had known they were just going to speak with the Keeper to get the knife that Merrill needed.

So, she just kept repeating to herself that she was doing a favor for Varric. They went into the varterral’s hunting grounds and found even more than they bargained for. First finding the body of three Dalish hunters who had been killed and finally, coming upon another elf that had fled in terror at the sight of Merrill.

The boy had been convinced Merrill would hurt him, or ‘do worse’, whatever he thought that might be. The only thing Sekhmet could think of was that he was referring to Merrill being a blood mage. He’d run straight towards the varterral, choosing the monster over speaking with Merrill.

And the varterral, it was like some creature from nightmares, like a cross between a mantis, a spider and rocks. It stood as big as a house and drooled a foul smelling liquid that sizzled and burned the ground wherever it dripped. And the thing was fast, so bloody fast. Sekhmet had no idea how something that big could move so quickly.

It took some doing and a couple revised strategies but they were eventually able to put the ancient creature down. Sekhmet almost felt guilty, according to Merrill and Marethari the beast had been hundreds if not thousands of years old, and now it was dead. Funny, wasn’t it,that Merrill who was so dead set against losing the eluvian because it was a part of Dalish history was so willing to kill such an amazing creature, even though it to was a part of Dalish history? The thought made her angry, and mean spirited.

Merrill ran and fell to her knees beside Pol’s body. They hadn’t gotten to the varterral in time to save the elf. She wept over him, “Maybe it’s not too late.” She turned a hopeful, tear streaked face up to Anders. “You can help him, can’t you Anders? You can heal anyone.”

Anders shook his head, “Merrill, he’s gone.”

She sobbed harder, “Why did you run? You shouldn’t have run.”

If Merrill hadn’t clung so stupidly to her blood magic this boy wouldn’t be dead. It had to have been the reason why he had run. And maybe if she realized it she could have stopped the lunacy. “Yes Merrill, what could you have possibly done to scare this man to death?”

Anders, never able to be civil to Merrill in the best of circumstances, didn’t give her a break either, “I’ll give you a hint; it has to do with demons and slitting your wrists.” 

Merrill dropped her head back down, practically touching Pol’s still chest, her sobs echoing oddly in the cavernous room.

Sekhmet felt odd watching the elf cry, “Do you need a minute alone?”

Merrill quieted a bit before lifting her face and wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. She stood shakily and took a few deep breaths. “No, thank you. I…we have too much to do for me to sit here bawling.” She glanced down at the boy’s body. “Pol wasn’t like the others. He was city born, worldly. He ran away from the Denerim and found us. I thought if anyone would understand he would. This…something is very wrong. I want to see the Keeper.” And with that she turned on her heel walking swiftly, angrily from the cavern. 

The others followed her until they stood before Marethari. Sekhmet expected Merrill to say something to the Keeper but she just stared for long moments. Eventually, the silence became a bit uncomfortable as Merrill glared and remained silent.

So, Sekhmet stepped forward. “The varterral is dead.”

Marethari kept her gaze on Merrill but nodded, “Ma serranas, I’ll breathe easier knowing we’ll lose no more people to it.”

After another few beats Merrill held out the medallions they had found around the dead hunter’s necks. “We found these in the cave.”

The Keeper accepted them with a soft, sad sigh. “I’ll return them to their families.”

And they stood there again, locked in the strained silence. Sekhmet waited for Merrill to say something. She’d said she wanted to speak with the Keeper, so what was she waiting for? Merrill was clearly still angry, Sekhmet expected to see smoke wafting from her nostrils at any moment.

When Merrill did finally speak her voice was sharp, “We lost Pol, in the cave he…he fled at the sight of me, straight into the varterral.” It was such a clear accusation.

Marethari seemed unperturbed, calmly replying. “Many of the clan fear that you will bring back the corruption or worse from the mirror.”

Merrill’s voice rose another notch, hurting Sekhmet’s ears. “And where did they get that idea?”

Another calm response from Marethari, “I am their Keeper, da’len. It is my duty to warn them.” Her gaze softened and she stepped closer to Merrill, “It’s still not too late for you to return to us. Reconsider, there’s no need for you to live alone.”

Sekhmet was beyond surprised. How did Marethari expect Merrill to return now? She’d turned the whole clan against the girl, they were afraid of her. What life could Merrill have amongst them now? Was the Keeper really so clueless as to what she had done? Even if Merrill had considered the possibility before, surely she’d never return now.

Merrill shook her head, some of the anger gone now, replaced by an obvious sadness. “Must we go over this again? You’ll never accept what I’m doing.” Sekhmet could almost hear in her words how much she missed her clan, missed her home and her life. 

Marethari changed strategies, lecturing now instead of coaxing. “The eluvian is a trap, it already cost us Tamlen. It led you to blood magic will you let it twist you further from who you really are?”

It was the wrong way to go, reigniting Merrill’s anger, even hotter than before. “And who am I?” When the Keeper didn’t respond she spoke again. “We’ve done as you asked, honor our bargain. Give me the arulin’holm.”

Marethari shook her head and turned away from Merrill to face Sekhmet. “Hawke, because Merrill won’t listen I give this heirloom of my clan to you for safekeeping.” She held it out and after a moment of shock Sekhmet took it. Marethari held onto her hand for a moment, “Please, don’t let her do this.” With that she walked away.

Merrill sagged with relief as the Keeper walked away. “Thank the Creators. I thought maybe she’d go back on her word.”

Hawke looked at the knife, the arulin’holm, whatever it was called. It didn’t look terribly special, well worn and with faint magic yes, but not enough that it would likely resurrect an object as complicated as the eluvian seemed to be. She ran her fingers over its smooth worn handle. 

She looked up, her eyes scanning the encampment. The Dalish were all watching them, none of their faces looking overly friendly. These had once been Merrill’s people, and now she couldn’t see a single one of them who seemed happy to see her. She glanced back to Merrill and asked as gently as she could, “Is it worth restoring this mirror if it turns your clan against you?”

Merrill closed her eyes and looked down, “You know what it’s like to lose everything, Hawke.” She looked up, catching Sekhmet’s eyes. “Not just our land and freedom, but history, stories, language, magic, rituals. Even our gods are gone.” As long, tired sounding sigh, “It is a sacrifice but if the mirror restores even one fragment of the past it’s worth it.”

So, Merrill was willing to give up the only family she knew for this stupid mirror. This mirror that had possibly had killed one of her clan, and had somehow turned Merrill herself to blood magic. “What did the Keeper mean the mirror led you to blood magic?”

She hesitated in responding, “I…the shard I picked up was corrupted. I couldn’t cleanse it without help.” Her anger flared again, “The Keeper refused, she said the mirror belonged to another time and should be left there. So I found a” her anger dissipated and her voice softened as if she were unsure of herself, “…spirit it gave me the power to purify the mirror through blood magic.”

The girl was being deliberately obtuse, as if using blood magic to cleanse something made any sense at all. “I’ve never heard of blood magic purifying anything.”

“There’s nothing inherently evil about blood magic. It’s magic, like any other.” Merrill retorted, hotly.

Anders shook his head and snarled at her, “Are you really that stupid.”

And putting aside the fact that he was acting like a dick, he was right. Was she really that stupid? This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to work with Merrill. The woman was obviously well disciplined when it came to using her own magic, but when it came to blood magic she’s wasn’t very rational or stable in Sekhmet’s opinion.

Merrill didn’t look at Anders but she became more rigid, her shoulders more stiff and her hands balled into fists. “The power that contaminated the mirror was too strong to be driven out by normal means. If I had piles of lyrium lying around I could have used that, but I didn’t. I used what I had.” 

Sekhmet had never seen Merrill so angry and snarky before. Her tone was cutting and Sekhmet could feel the mage’s magic bubbling up as her anger rose. She was worried that Merrill would do something really stupid if she didn’t manage to somehow calm her down. And the clan had started moving a touch closer to them, obviously sensing the tension.

“If everyone else is so concerned about this mirror, can’t you concede that perhaps fixing it isn’t the best idea? What do you really know about it? How is it supposed to be used? What exactly is it supposed to do?” She asked, hoping she could appeal to Merrill’s rational side.

Instead, she made her even more irritated, her tones were clipped, furious. “You’re siding with the Keeper?”

And when Anders chimed in, “Over the blood mage? I vote yes.” Sekhmet could have smacked him. Didn’t he realize how close to edge Merrill was right now?

Merrill’s eyes glittered dangerously. “This is dangerous, yes, but it is restoring something vital to my people. I know what I’m doing Hawke. Give me the arulin’holm.” 

It was such a cut and dry demand and for a moment, just to keep the peace Sekhmet considered giving her the thing. On the off chance that the arulin’holm could restore the eluvian and wreak potential chaos on Kirkwall, chaos she’d inevitably end up cleaning up, she decided she couldn’t give the blade over. “I’m keeping it; I can’t let you do this.” She just hoped Merrill wouldn’t lose her damn mind and do something even more stupid.

Merrill went red in the face, her eyes bulged in their sockets and a vein throbbed in her temple. “ _You’re_ keeping a priceless heirloom of _my_ clan? You have no right, you’re not even Dalish.”

She wanted to argue with Merrill, point out that the Keeper had in fact given her the arulin’holm and a dozen other ridiculous arguments that meant nothing in the long run, for no other reason than it was in her blood to argue. The clan had started moving in on them again, making Sekhmet tense. She didn’t want to end up fighting the clan, for any reason. “Merrill, you need to calm down for now. It’s time for us to leave.”

Merrill was caught up in her anger though, anger and an obviously distinct feeling of betrayal. “I can’t believe you, why did I trust you? You’re just a shemlen like all the others.” Her fists clenched at her sides and her lip pulled up into an angry sneer. “I can make you if I have to, Hawke.” 

Merrill reached for her dagger and lightning quick Sekhmet reached out to grab the elf’s wrist. “You want to really think about what you’re about to do Merrill. After what happened with Pol do you really think the Dalish are just going to let you perform blood magic in front of them with no consequences.”

Never again, she’d never let herself get roped into working with Merrill like this again. She didn’t want to kill the girl though, not if she didn’t really have to. Merrill was young, and so painfully naïve. She had a power far beyond her understanding and had no one to teach her the kind of responsibility she needed to learn, and that wasn’t the girl’s fault. Maybe, if Anders wasn’t so fucking antagonistic towards the elf all the time she would have listened to him a little better.

She was angry, furious with Merrill, but still wanted to avoid killing the elf. So she tried to scare her, stepping closer to Merrill and dropped her voice. “And I’m pretty sure Varric warned you about what would happen if you tried to use blood magic against me, or anyone else with us, did he not?” 

Merrill tried to wrench her wrist away and glared at Sekhmet when she wasn’t able to get free.

“And if you think you can stop me before I hurt you,” she stepped forward again whispering right in Merrill’s ear, “I just want to remind you of the tall, gorgeous mage standing behind me possessed by a spirit of Justice, and just how well things went last time you tried to use blood magic against him.” 

She stepped backwards, released Merrill’s arm and smiled. It was a cruel smile, she knew, but she was livid, infuriated that Merrill would even entertain the idea of using her blood magic against her, or any of them.

Merrill dropped her hand, impotent fury shadowing her features. Sekhmet waited to see what Merrill would do, preparing herself for the possibility she would need to kill Merrill after all. She watched as Merrill looked around the Dalish camp.

Watched her realize how all the Dalish were looking at her, at the anxiety on their faces. Saw the moment when Merrill realized some of the faces looking back at her weren’t just cautious or worried but were outright hostile. She even felt kind of bad for the elven woman.

Apparently, Merrill hadn’t realized just how much of an outsider she had become to her clan. Marethari may still call her Dalish, may still tell her she was one of them, but it was clear most of the clan did not feel the same way. She blinked owlishly for a few seconds and Sekhmet had been sure the girl would burst into tears.

She was stronger than that though. She took a deep shaky breath, calmed herself and turned away from all the angry eyes boring into her. There was steel in the girl, a childish, unruly, and stubborn steel perhaps, but it was there.

Isabela, as surprising as ever, walked to Merrill and took her by the elbow, “Come on, Kitten, let’s go.” And the two of them left. 

Sekhmet and Anders didn’t see either one of them the entire trip back to Kirkwall. It was actually a very nice return trip. She and Anders travelled sporadically and stopped to make love whenever they felt like it. They played like teenagers, teasing each other, chasing each other and generally being silly and carefree in a way neither of them could be in the city.

Anders had just scooped her up, tossing her over his shoulder after another mad dash to catch her when she grabbed his bag and ran headlong for the river. He’d barely managed to catch the little vixen before she tossed his bag into the water. They both knew she let him catch her, as fast as she was there was no way he would have caught her even with his long legs if she hadn’t wanted him too.

He laid her down in the grass pinning her so she couldn’t run away and kissed her again. He held her and kissed her until she was breathless and dizzy, and desperate for his every touch. She smiled when he broke away, a ridiculous grin of his own on his gorgeous lips.

The last two days had been amazing, giddy, wonderful and completely strange. Was it odd that she felt ten years younger? Or maybe that was just because the romance novels she had read as a young teen were always about women and men that age. Either way, her life for the last few days had felt like one of those ridiculous books. 

She felt her smile widen, and couldn’t help a mad giggle. Because kissing Anders, sex with Anders, anything at all with Anders was better than anything she ever read in those books. In Lothering, a time or two, she thought one of her lover’s were gifted, were something special, but Anders was in a class of his own. Not just because of the physical things they did, but because of how completely cherished and special he made her feel.

“I don’t want to go back. I just…let’s just stay out here.” She whispered suddenly feeling the need to stay out of the city, to stay away from everyone with their needs and demands. She wanted more of this, more of the carefree and happy life she’d had for the last two days. She wanted more of Anders happy and laughing, playful and charming and sweet, so ridiculously sweet.

He sighed softly and brushed her hair off her forehead. “As much as I would love to run away with you, we both have too many responsibilities in Kirkwall.”

She let out a slow breath, trying not to be too disappointed. She had known from the start she wasn’t the most important thing to him and likely never would be. She’d always be second to the mage cause, and she had accepted it, or at least she thought she had.

She sat up, “Alright, then we should get headed back to our…responsibilities.” 

Anders took her hand, his eyes searching her face closely. And she wanted to shut his mouth before he opened it because she knew he was going to try to placate her and she hated the idea. She couldn’t stop him; she just sat there and listened as he tried to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. “We can stay for a few more days, there’s no rush to get back.”

She pushed up to her feet and slipped her pack back over her shoulders. “I think we’ve dawdled long enough.” She headed back down the mountain, it was time to wake up from her little fairy story and get back to reality. And if some small part of her found solace in Anders frustrated sigh, so be it.


	43. Tale of The Lioness

Anders looked up when Isabela sauntered into the clinic. When she spotted him she momentarily looked uncomfortable, hesitating before purposefully crossing the clinic and Anders sighed. She had probably picked up another disease with her catting around. If he charged a fee he could quite possibly get rich off treating Isabela alone. 

He looked around his empty clinic and realized it made him feel uneasy having Isabela there and no one else. He remained seated, a bit more comfortable that way for some reason. “Izzy, what can I do for you today?”

She stopped in front of him and handed him a package wrapped in cloth, giving him a bit of an unsure smile, but not saying a word.

Alright, that was odd. “What’s this?”

She shuffled her foot against the dirt floor, “I…uh, wanted to say thanks. You’ve helped me a lot, and I want you to know I’m grateful.”

Anders eyed her suspiciously.

She gave a heavy dramatic sigh and crossed her arms defensively across her chest. “Oh, just open it.”

He unfolded the cloth; there was a leather bound book inside. The cover was just tooled leather with odd pictograms he didn’t recognize so he opened it and read the title. _“Ancient Navarran Mythology”_. He looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, thank you?”

Isabela looked completely put out. “Well, you’re smart; you like to read, right?”

He nodded, not wanting to deal with an upset Isabela. “Yes, I enjoy reading.”

She gestured around the clinic, “I thought maybe the reading materials here might be a bit scarce. Though I guess now that you and Hawke are hot and heavy you have the pick of that big library of hers.” She seemed to almost be rambling like she was nervous, “I didn’t know about the two of you when I bought this. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.” She shook her head and scowled. “It’s just a gift.”

“No, thank you. I appreciate it, I do. I’m just surprised, books aren’t cheap.” In fact, as finely crafted as the book in his hands was he was pretty sure it had cost the sassy pirate queen a small fortune. So why had she spent all that money on him?

Izzy snorted, “You can say that again. And it was a bitch to find.”

He canted his head, curious, “Why were you looking for this book in particular?”

Isabela looked exasperated, “Don’t you remember the story I told you about Hawke, about her namesake?”

He nodded, how could he forget? It’s where he had gotten her nickname, “Of course.”

She touched the book lightly. “I marked it in there.”

He finally understood, she’d tracked down a written record of the tale for him. Why had she gone through so much trouble? He decided not to make himself too crazy trying to understand it. He had a feeling Isabela was a difficult woman to understand under the best of circumstances. And her being stranded without a ship in Kirkwall definitely did not constitute the best of circumstances for her. “I forgot you said it was Navarran. Sorry.”

Isabela chuckled quietly. “Well, just enjoy it. I think that big brain of yours could do with a little frivolous fun. ”

Anders flipped the book open to where a piece of blue ribbon was marking the page. There was a drawing of a woman with the head of a lion. “She had a lion’s head?” He asked, clearly surprised.

“Leona, darling, lioness.” Izzy drawled.

“Is that Navarran, Leona?” It was so similar to the Arcanum word, it surprised him.

She smiled, “No, Antivan. You like it?”

“It’s” he hesitated, “pretty.”

She winked at him. “Mi Leona, my lioness.”

Anders shifted in his chair, “Uh, ok.”

“Trust me darling, you’ll thank me later.” With that she turned and left the clinic. 

Anders watched her go and looked around his empty clinic again, debating whether or not to close the doors for the day and enjoy his new book or just hope the day remained slow. At last his conscience got the better of him and he decided to leave the lanterns lit. He’d been gone for a week between staying with Sekhmet and the trip up Sundermount. 

He’d only come in today because Sekhmet had wanted to check in with Sebastian, who’d apparently stopped in several times looking for her while they were gone. And he still had no desire to be near the man. He was unreasonably uncomfortable with the friendship between Sebastian and Sekhmet and had to make a conscious effort not to interfere between the two of them.

While he was gone he hadn’t been terribly concerned about not being at the clinic because the days had been slowing the last several months. He hoped that it was due to the Fereldens finding a better lot in life. The alternative was too depressing.

He sat at his desk for the next few hours undisturbed, sketching ideas for a new staff design and reading stories about Sekhmet. There seemed to be dozens of them in the book; he couldn’t quite help but to picture his Sekhmet as he read some of the stories. The goddess was fierce and deadly, as was her namesake.

His mind was on the book all day. He hoped the few patients that came to see him didn’t suffer overmuch from his distraction. His mind was filled with ideas, inspired by stories of Sekhmet, for his new staff, one that was finally starting to take shape, at least in his head and on parchment. The book was engaging, and his mind returned to it again and again. 

The stories of Sekhmet were only a small fraction of the book, and he was pleasantly surprised to learn that each story he read was nearly as interesting as those he read of Sekhmet. The tome was enormous, filled with tiny script. There must be hundreds of stories in its pages. Again, he marveled that Isabela had spent her money on such a luxury item for him.

He looked up when the door opened and smiled to see Sekhmet striding towards him. “Well, hello love.” He stood and walked to her sweeping her into his arms and kissing her quickly, remembering a moment too late that anyone could walk through the door and catch them.

If she was disappointed she didn’t show it. She just smiled, “Ready to head home? Mother sent me to fetch you for dinner.”

He chuckled, “She does realize I don’t live there yet?”

Her smile wilted a little, “Yes, it’s part of why she sent me. I’m supposed to rectify the situation ‘by whatever means are necessary’.”

His own smile disappeared, “Is she trying to get you to bribe me with sex or something?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, she just wants you to move in quickly. I told her I would do my best. So here I am, telling you I would like you to move in. We can start taking your things right now.”

He didn’t bother telling her it would only take one trip to move him. He wasn’t ready to move in with her yet. He wasn’t ready to put her at that much risk, wasn’t willing to make her mother’s life more difficult either. So Leandra would have to wait.

“I’ll come for dinner, but my things stay here, Sekhmet.” He spoke softly hoping to soften the blow. He knew her, and his little lioness would make this personal, as if he were rejecting her.

“Fine,” her tone was clipped. She turned and immediately walked away.

He followed behind her, carrying his new book and locking the doors to the clinic behind them. He may not be moving his things into the estate but he already knew the chances of him returning to the clinic tonight were slim. Unless, of course Sekhmet sent him packing; he hurried to catch up after the doors were closed.

“Sekhmet, wait. This isn’t about me not wanting to live with you. Maker knows I do. I just want to keep the Templars away from you for as long as possible. And having a known apostate living with you is going to complicate your life.” Hopefully, she wasn’t too angry to see reason.

All he got in response was another curt, “fine”. She didn’t even slow.

He didn’t press the issue; there was no talking to her when she was like this. One of two things would happen, either she would calm down and talk to him. Or, she would get more and more angry dwelling on it until she exploded, yelling at him and then once the storm was over she would calm down and talk to him. Either way, it was a waiting game for now.

So, he waited through a lovely dinner with Leandra. And then he waited through a few hours of listening to Leandra read a book by Brother Genetivi. He joined Sekhmet when she went upstairs, where they had awkward and stilted sex. 

Upon the mostly unsatisfactory completion of which Sekhmet slid out of the bed and walked towards the bathing chamber, “You should probably head back to the clinic. Wouldn’t want to give anyone the impression you were doing any more here than just fucking me.” And with that she slammed the door shut behind her.

“Fuck,” he growled as he slid from the bed and pulled on his trousers. Why had she even bothered to have sex with him if she was just going to be resentful about it? Especially sex as bad as that performance had been, or maybe that lack luster experience had been what had soured her so significantly. He went to the door of the bathing chamber but the door was locked. “Let me in, Sekhmet.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for you to be here, Anders?” She called back.

“Just fucking talk to me, dammit.” He rattled the door trying to force it open, or to at least get her to open it.

“According to you we already did that.”

All he wanted to do was crawl into bed with Sekhmet and forget this shitty evening ever happened. He wanted to forget making her feel like he didn’t want to be with her. He wanted to forget the shitty sex they’d just had, and wanted to forget he’d managed to hurt her, again.

“You should go home and get some sleep Anders. I’d like you to go see the Viscount with Sebastian and I tomorrow, unless of course that conflicts with your ‘let’s avoid the Templars forever’ plan. I mean we will be in public so there is a chance we might see one or two of them.” She could be so bitter sometimes, vicious and bitter.

“Sekhmet, open the fucking door right now or I’ll blow it off the goddamned hinges. One way or another I’m coming in there.” He could always unlock it, but would prefer if she would just open the damned thing.

A few tense minutes later he heard her walking to the door and unlocking it. She pulled it open and glared at him, crossing her arms defensively. “What?” She snarled.

No matter what he did at his point he was going to feel regret. Either he would move in now and regret it when the Templars started bothering Sekhmet in earnest or he would wait and regret all the pain it brought her. “This thing with the Viscount, is it another job?” 

She nodded, “Probably, the note just said he needed to see me as soon as possible.”

“So you got the letter this evening?” He asked momentarily distracted from the moving situation wondering when the delivery had come in. 

She shook her head, “No, it was here when we got in last night.”

“What? So why are you just doing something about it now if it was so urgent?” But he knew didn’t he? And that was why his blood was starting to boil. 

And she knew it, too. She smirked a little, not the cute playful one he adored, the smug ‘I’m a bitch’ smirk. “I wanted to see Sebastian first.”

Right, so she’d blown off the Viscount to spend the day with Sebastian, but he wasn’t supposed to get jealous or worry about the nature of her relationship with the man. He couldn’t say any of that though, because he’d end up looking like an asshole, like he didn’t trust her. And for about the hundredth time he wondered what it would take to get Sebastian to leave Kirkwall. Even just heading back to Starkhaven would be enough to at least limit his contact with Sekhmet.

Instead, he nodded like her statement had been completely rational and no reason for him to feel nervous. It did help make his decision easier though. What better way to make sure Sebastian understood that Sekhmet was not available that to move into her home, into her bed, permanently? “Okay, how about this? If this is a job with the Viscount tomorrow I’ll move in once the job is done?”

She relaxed marginally, looking a lot less like she was going to pluck his eyeballs from his skull at any moment. “And if it’s not a job?”

He gave her a faint shrug, “Then I’ll move in tomorrow as soon as we’re done in his office.”

She was watching him carefully, judging his reaction. She must have been satisfied that he really wanted to move in because she relaxed at last. “Alright, then.”

He smiled a little, “Alright, as in you’ll come back to bed with me?”

She smiled back, a tiny smile but the tension was bleeding from her slowly. “Only if you promise to make love to me, again.”

He chuckled, “With pleasure, my lady.” And with that he swept her up into his arms and carried her back to bed, hoping for a performance good enough to wash away the disappointment from their last go round.

********

The next morning he found himself standing in the outer office of Viscount Dumar with Sebastian. Sekhmet had been invited in to speak to the Viscount alone while he was stuck out here swinging in the breeze with the Chantry Prince. Could today have started any better?

Sebastian smiled at him a few times, but didn’t speak, which was just as well since Anders couldn’t think of anything to say to the man. Somehow he didn’t think, ‘lay a hand on her and I’ll rip your spine out with my bare hands’ was a good conversation starter in the middle of the Viscount’s Keep. 

Just standing there with Sebastian was difficult. He was a very good looking man, fit and muscular. Something Anders could boast of no more. He was far too skinny, the weight loss of lean years making him look gangly and awkward.

Where Anders’ hair was dull from cheap soaps Sebastian’s hair had a sheen like chocolate colored silk. And it probably felt as soft as it looked. The chantry boy’s skin looked smooth and fine while Anders’ skin was blemished and scarred. His nose looked regal, while Anders’ looked almost hawkish.

The pretty teal of Sebastian’s eyes was a far cry from the plain brown of Anders’ own. And then there was the bastard’s voice. Those velvety tones with that heart stopping accent, how on Thedas was Anders supposed to compete with that?

His self abusive thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the door from the Viscount’s office swung open and Sekhmet calmly walked out. She didn’t look very pleased, but she didn’t stop to talk. She walked straight through the outer office and into the hallway. 

He and Sebastian both hurried to follow her as she walked up to Seneschal Bran and stopped to glare at him. And the seneschal just narrowed his gaze back at her, obviously no more thrilled at having to talk to her than she was to have to talk to him. The tension was thick, even other people in the Keep noticed, sidling farther and farther away from Sekhmet and the seneschal.

Eventually, Sekhmet spoke with clipped tones and a glare. “You have information for me?”

Bran managed to keep his face neutral even as disdain colored his voice, “I am to help you, yes. Viscount Dumar would appreciate discretion in this matter. I would prefer that you were not involved at all, but that is neither here nor there.”

Sekhmet shook her head, “And yet you felt the need to voice it. And while we’re on the subject of preferences, I would prefer that you were useful for once. So just tell me everything I need to know, and quickly, so I can do what needs to be done. And you can start with how someone managed to abduct a Qunari entourage.”

Anders felt like the wind had been knocked out of them. Someone was very clearly trying to start a war in Kirkwall. And the Viscount was putting his little lioness smack into the middle of it. Didn’t he realize that Sekhmet got into more than enough trouble on her own? 

She certainly didn’t need the Qunari and the Viscount helping her. If things didn’t turn out favorably the Arishok would call for Sekhmet’s head. And if someone had gone through all the trouble of abducting a Qunari delegation from the Viscount’s Keep chances were it was not going to end well, no matter what Sekhmet did.

And Sekhmet had already agreed to help, clearly. He wondered briefly how she’d react if he just picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her out of there. He pressed his lips together tightly to hide his smile; he’d probably end up in worse shape than the missing Qunari if he was to attempt such a stunt.

Bran sighed dramatically, “Unfortunately, they were not at their best. Their swords were tied to their sheaths, as I advised. It seemed a respectful compromise; even I know you cannot separate a Qunari from their weapon.”

Sekhmet nodded briefly, “Has anyone reported this to the Qunari?”

Bran was aghast, “Maker no, I would be signing the messenger’s death warrant. He’ll find out soon enough, of course, and when he does the Viscount is rightfully concerned that the illusion of peace will dissolve.”

Anders’ blood ran cold. He knew exactly where Sekhmet was going to head first. His tiny woman, tiny and fearless, was going to go stand toe to toe with the Arishok and tell him that his delegation was missing. And there was nothing he could do to stop her, at least nothing she would ever forgive him for. 

This might be harder than he thought, letting himself love her and still travel with her. He constantly wanted to protect her, wanted to stop her from being so reckless. Her fearlessness had been a major reason why he’d fallen in love with her and so he did his best to keep his overbearing impulses in check.

“Oh, that’s very responsible.” She sighed, obviously already exhausted from dealing with Bran. “So where would you start, if you were the starting type?”

Bran turned away, walked towards the railing of the mezzanine, “I would begin with the most obvious failure. It’s clear the city guard has no excuse for allowing this, unless they were involved.” He paused looking out over the room below, “Not coincidentally a number of recent recruits have failed to report. You should start with one of them. Although, where you find a swordsman so eager to sell honor and duty I’m sure I don’t know.” His last sentence was so obviously a lie it was almost laughable.

Everyone in the city knew where to find someone like that. Anders found himself automatically responding, “The Hanged Man”.

Sebastian smirked, “Even I know that.”

Bran turned back to face them, “Right,” he drew the syllable out, and it grated on Anders’ nerves, “then you know what to look for. I can’t imagine that this has occurred without notice. There is always a weak link. Please keep this quiet. The viscount is under enough scrutiny as it is.”

Sekhmet spun on her heel and stalked away. Sebastian and Anders fell into step behind her, both knowing it was better to steer clear of her when she was this angry. Perhaps Sebastian knew Sekhmet better than Anders thought. The idea didn’t exactly thrill Anders. 

When Anders realized she was heading straight for the guard barracks he caught up to her. “You’re not just going to go in there and start making accusations are you?”

She smirked up at him, “You know, you’re terribly cute when you’re worried I’m going to do something stupid.”

He forced himself not to smile at the subtle compliment. “Hawke,” he cajoled, he needed her serious for a moment.

Sebastian managed to render the point moot, moving up towards them with a smile. “She’s right, you know, you get the cutest little crease between your brows.”

“Shut up,” he snarled at Sebastian. 

Which just made Sekhmet laugh, “Calm down, Anders. I’m going to very politely offer the guard captain the opportunity to look into the situation she has with guards not reporting in for duty. Alright?”

Anders rubbed his forehead; he was starting to get a headache. “Good, fine, let’s do that.” Sekhmet reached for him and he stepped back out of her reach, “Not here,” Maker he wanted her to touch him, to soothe away his concern, he really did. But here in the Keep it was just too dangerous, the Templars had spies everywhere.

Sekhmet looked away, her eyes hardening a little bit. He couldn’t help but feeling guilty even if it was for her own good. He followed her silently to Aveline’s office.

Sekhmet knocked briefly before pushing the door open, “Aveline, clear out your schedule for the rest of the day. You’re going to want to come with me.”

Aveline sighed heavily, “Not today Hawke, I have too much to do…”

Sekhmet cut her off, “I know, you have new recruits that failed to report in today. We’re going to go deal with them.”

Aveline scowled, “You know where my recruits are?”

“I have a damned good idea.”

Aveline picked up her shield and sword, “Then let’s go get them.” She swept out the door into the barracks. “Jehlen, take care of the staffing needs today. I’m going to track down the missing recruits.” When the man nodded Aveline turned back to Sekhmet, “Lead the way.”

********

Sekhmet had the others wait outside the Qunari compound when they reached it. She’d only let Anders come with her because he refused to stay with the others. And the last thing she needed was for the Qunari to see her fighting with her companions. 

So he walked beside her, remaining silent but tense. And as they stopped at the base of the steps before the Arishok she felt his magic lingering near the surface. She just hoped he managed to control himself and didn’t end up provoking the Arishok further.

The Arishok looked down at them as annoyed as ever, “What do you want Hawke? I have no interest in adding to my distractions.”

She wondered how much it frustrated the man that he couldn’t intimidate her as he did so many others. “And yet you sent a delegate to the viscount.”

“A brief attempt to educate. If the dwarf had stolen the sarqamek it could have been used to show the price of greed, but you know the outcome of that. These fools are determined to be wrong.” His lip curled, Sekhmet couldn’t tell if was complete disdain or if the man was a bit disappointed as well. “I won’t waste the effort again.”

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever was to come, for the Arishok’s fury, for an attack, for whatever might possibly happen. “I’ll probably regret this, but you should know you’re delegation is missing.”

A muscled twitched along the Arishok’s jaw and he was quiet for long seconds, clearly fighting himself for control. “Anyone else and those words would have been their last. You are taking care of this, not your buffoon of a viscount?”

She nodded, surprised and grateful that it looked like she was going to manage to get out of the compound without a fight. “I am, to the best of my ability.”

He nodded, “Then I will wait, but know this. The provocations we have suffered have worked. If this is not resolved I can fulfill my duty to the Qun with far less annoyance by sifting through rubble.” And with that he dismissed them.

Sekhmet turned and headed out of the compound, not wanting to risk any more time inside than she had to. The Arishok was wound up enough. And she could feel how tense Anders was, if she didn’t get him out soon he might just snap.

As they approached the gates to the compound Anders spoke quietly. “The Arishok is on edge, the Viscount should know.”

“Let me handle this first, and then I’ll tell him.” She hoped the Arishok would calm down if she could at the very least find and end whoever was behind this latest attack against the Qunari in Kirkwall.

They rejoined the others and she filled Aveline in on everything on their way to the Hanged Man. Once inside the guard captain was easily able to point out the man standing at the bar ordering a round of drinks as one of her missing recruits. 

Aveline was about to walk up to him when Sekhmet reached out her hand and stopped her. “Wait, if he sees you he might not talk.”

Aveline nodded and stepped back, out of eye sight but still within earshot. Sekhmet nodded to Anders and he slowly approached the bar, standing off to the right of the man ordering drinks. Sebastian and Sekhmet completed a little semi circle around the man.

She watched Anders look him over, assessing the man before speaking to him. “A lot of coin for this place.”

The man looked over his shoulder at Anders, “That’s right pal, tonight I’m paid and blessed and all I had to do was turn my head.” He took his bottle and walked to a table with several other people sitting around it. He raised the bottle in toast, “To all my friends.”

Sekhmet and the others followed him, and Sekhmet moved in close ready to apply a little pressure if needed.

The new recruit turned to her with suspicious eyes, “Hey, step back. I know important people. We’re going to show this city what to do with heathen oxmen.”

Sekhmet smirked and looked to Aveline who was moving across the tavern now. She looked back at the new guardsman, “Maybe you’d like to share this plan with your Guard Captain.”

The man’s eyes shot wide and he looked around the tavern, a flash of panic crossed his features when he spotted Aveline, “Guard Captain”.

“Who,” she snarled as she crossed to him.

“What?” the man squeaked.

She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him up, until his toes barely touched the floor. “Who bought you? Who bought the honor of a proud guard of Kirkwall and made him a drunken Mabari bitch?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he whined. “He was a Templar, I swear, had the seal of the Grand Cleric and everything.” When Aveline didn’t relent he desperately squealed, “It’s true.”

Sekhmet felt her stomach clench. She had hoped to be able to resolve this peaceably, but if the chantry was involved this whole thing was going to devolve into a mess very quickly. She looked to Sebastian and saw he had the same concerns she did. He caught her eyes and shook his head sadly.

“Aveline, catch up.” Sekhmet snapped on the way out the door. She needed to get to the chantry and get this sorted immediately. Maybe, if she hurried she could still salvage something, maybe even save the Qunari delegation, if she was very, very lucky.

Once she was outside the tavern she took off at a run, hoping the men kept up with her. She raced across Lowtown and took the steps to Hightown two at a time. When she yanked open the door to the chantry she felt Sebastian grip her shoulder.

“The man was a drunk. Surely, you don’t think Grand Cleric Elthina is funding zealots.” He was panting from running to catch up to her.

She stopped and looked at Sebastian, her darling brother who thought Elthina had been his salvation. She didn’t think Elthina was directly involved, but Sebastian wasn’t going to like why she thought that. “No, I don’t. The Grand Cleric isn’t the take action type.”

His brows knit together and his teal eyes narrowed as he looked at her, “Careful, dear sister,” annoyance roughened his beautiful voice.

She smirked and patted his cheek, just a hair’s breadth from condescending, “Always, dear brother.” Convinced Sebastian wasn’t going to push things further she headed towards the dias again, stopping when she noticed the Grand Cleric wasn’t perched atop it for once. She quickly asked one of the lay sisters to fetch her, only to be disappointed by the arrival of Sister Petrice instead. The whole mess was starting to make sense now and it was going to be bad, worse even than she had originally feared. 

Petrice, that viperous bitch, wouldn’t let her see Elthina. She clearly knew about the Qunari delegation being abducted, though she wouldn’t say much about it. Instead, to cover her own treacherous hide she offered Sekhmet her former body guard, Varnell.

She gave Sekhmet the location of a rally where Varnell was holding the Qunari. Of course Sekhmet didn’t trust Petrice but she had to try to save the delegates before Varnell and Petrice started a war. She and Petrice would cross paths again, she was sure. 

For now, she let the Chantry sister walk away. Or rather, than Chantry Mother now, and just how in the Void had that happened? Seemed the Grand Cleric was even more blind and powerless than she had thought. She had been about to leave when she caught sight of the Grand Cleric crossing the mezzanine behind the dias.

Regardless of Petrice’s interference she would talk to Elthina, try to get her to more closely monitor her people. If she would just open her eyes they might still prevent a war between the Qunari and Kirkwall. She jogged up the steps, Sebastian and Anders close behind her, and called out softly to the older woman.

“Grand Cleric?”

Elthina turned to look at her, a vague smile on her lips, a smile that grew at the sight of Sebastian. “Hawke, Sebastian, so nice to see you.” She purposely ignored Anders, as she always did.

Sekhmet never knew whether she did it as a slight, or if she didn’t acknowledge him because she knew he was a mage. Either way it irritated her, especially now, but Anders didn’t seem to mind so she left it alone, for now. “Grand Cleric did you know someone used the authority of your name to instigate a crime against the Qunari?” Whether she was involved or not, she should know so she could do something about Petrice and her warmongering.

Elthina gave a soft, tired sigh. “The path to righteousness is never as straight and narrow as we wish. I truly hoped this would not go so far, but do not trouble yourself. I will step in when it’s time.”

Sekhmet felt her ire spike, “When it’s time? And just when would be a good time, after war has broken out, after the city lay in rubble? Are you intending to stay neutral about the Qunari and mages forever?”

Elthina remained calm, placid. “The Maker’s time is not men’s time. We do not need to rush. The Chantry is not a domineering father with a whip always at hand. She is a gentle mother who knows her children learn best when allowed to learn themselves.”

“And just what lesson are you intending for them to learn, death?” She snapped back.

Sebastian put his arm around her shoulders, “Come on Hawke, we have other things to do right now.” 

Elthina just watched them leave. It was a struggle but she let Sebastian lead her away, he was right. The Qunari still needed help and she couldn’t be wasting time on the idiot Grand Cleric. 

As they made their way down the stairs Anders growled quietly from behind them. “Mind letting her go now, Sebastian? I think she can handle walking to the door on her own.”

Sebastian released her without a word and she was thankful he didn’t seem bothered by Anders’ tone. They met Aveline at the door and Sebastian brought her up to date as they made their way to rally. She only hoped they weren’t too late. Either way, Varnell was going to pay, Sekhmet was angry and tired of the treachery and bullshit that seeped from the Chantry infecting the city. 

********

Varnell’s voice carried throughout the sewers, reverberating along the walls. It was easy enough to follow the sound. As they got closer he could hear other voices as well, quieter and murmuring. How many people would they find? And just how bad could this all turn out? If the tension bleeding off Sekhmet was any indication she, at least, expected things were going to get pretty hairy. 

As they rounded a corner Anders bit his tongue to stop himself from gasping upon seeing the Qunari. They had very clearly been tortured. Their skin bore marked bruising as well as jagged cuts and scrapes. Rivulets of blood flowed from several wounds in winding paths. And standing proudly in front of them was the Templar, Varnell.

Sekhmet seethed beside him. “Oh that bastard is so fucking dead.”

“So you’ll be the one to start the war instead of the Templar?” Aveline kept her voice quiet as they hadn’t been detected by the others yet.

Sekhmet didn’t turn to face Aveline but she became increasingly tense, her hands clenched into fists. “You would have me do nothing? Let them get away with this depravity?”

The Guard Captain shook her head, “I just don’t want to see this city ripped apart.”

“And maybe by bringing a little justice to Varnell and his followers we can keep the Arishok appeased enough to stop him from attacking. And Dumar certainly doesn’t want war.” 

Anders took his staff from his back, “Well then, let’s go say hello.”

********

Justice perked up at the sight of the Templar. This was exactly what he needed after curling up and holding himself as far away from Anders’ consciousness as he could for the last week. He had hidden himself as much as was possible to give Anders his privacy. He might not exactly approve of Anders’ relationship with Sekhmet, but he knew when he was beaten. Nothing would keep the two of them apart; Anders had more than proved his desire to be with the strange woman.

He stayed still, not pushing forward yet. He would let Anders’ woman do whatever talking she felt was necessary. A fight was coming; the glint of insanity in the Templar’s eyes guaranteed it. The woman from the chantry came into the large room and shouted at the Templar, bringing his attention to Anders and the others.

Anders became tense, his heart picking up speed as he too realized a fight was eminent. Justice knew Anders would not stop him from taking control, and was grateful. The Templar would pay for the abuses, not only of his position but of the defenseless creatures at the front of the room.

The mother disappeared as the Templar’s followers surged at Anders and his companions. Justice slipped to the fore easily, wielding Anders’ magic with determination and focus. He wanted the Templar, but wanted to fight the man face to face, not from across the room.

He worked his way methodically across the room, tossing some of the fanatics out of his way and simply killing others who were too persistent. Hawke reached the Templar first and engaged him. The man must have been an exceptional fighter; he not only managed not to be immediately killed by Hawke, but managed to land a few decent blows of his own.

Hawke moved to dodge another blow from the Templar’s sword when the man suddenly slashed at her face with a small knife he had hidden in his hand. Hawke screamed, reaching for her face as she pulled away. Justice felt fury, as hot as acid burn through his veins.

The intensity surprised him; almost as much as Anders’ barked order of _“Kill that bastard, painfully.”_ The fury had been Anders’ and not his, but it served its purpose. He strode across the short distance between him and the Templar, quickly killing all that stood in his way.

When he reached the Templar the man snarled, screaming “Abomination,” at him.

The Templar swung his huge sword at Justice who grabbed it, not feeling it bite into the soft flesh of Anders’ hand, and ripped it from the man’s hands. He chucked it aside and gripped the man’s head, Anders’ long fingers easily spanning across the Templar’s skull. He slowly applied pressure, barely noticing when the man screamed and kicked at Justice.

Justice could hear the man’s skull cracking, watched as his eyes bulged and his face turned scarlet. Eventually, the Templar remembered he had a knife in his hand and stabbed it into Anders’ arm. When Justice did not react, other than to squeeze his head a little harder he pulled it back out and started stabbing Anders’ body in various places. 

He became more and more panicked as Justice failed to respond. Justice was enjoying the man’s fear and panic even more than the man’s obvious pain. Pain he delivered at the behest of Anders, for once.

_“Where is Sekhmet, is she alright Justice?”_ Anders’ voice was panicked sounding, even in his head.

Still holding the Templar, who was now bleeding from the eyes, he turned to look until he found Hawke. She was still fighting, but something was obviously wrong. She was nowhere near as fast and as deadly as she usually was. And when she turned a little Justice was able to see why.

The knife had slashed across most of her face. Her cheek was laid open and Justice was able to see flashes of her teeth as the flap of flesh moved with her fighting. Her nose was cut deeply and he could not see if her eye was injured at all because it was so covered with blood he could not really see. Her dog was staying close to her, compensating for her reduced prowess.

_“Kill him now!”_ Anders growled, wanting, needing, to go to his woman and heal her.

That was fine with Justice. He squeezed once more, completely crushing the Templar’s skull between Anders’ long, delicate looking fingers, blood running over his hand. He turned and scanned the room and found almost a dozen fanatics still fighting. When Anders pushed him to hurry again he released a pulse of sky blue fire, reducing them all to ash.

Aveline and Sebastian both turned to look at him with surprise and perhaps a little horror but Hawke just looked relieved. Justice got a good look at Hawke’s ruined face and he immediately relinquished control when Anders pushed forward. The woman badly needed her healer. Justice stayed close to the surface though, watching and still trying to understand the pair.

Anders rushed to Hawke and pulled her down to sit on the floor, “Just stay still, love, I’ll fix it.”

Sebastian knelt down beside Hawke his hand skating soothingly over her back and Justice felt Anders stiffen with tension. He did not want Sebastian touching Hawke, or anywhere near her and for a moment Justice thought Anders might actually attack Sebastian. He had been increasingly tense and angry each time Sebastian had touched Hawke throughout the day. But Anders did not even say a word to the archer, he just started healing Hawke.

“Can you save it, truly?” Sebastian sounded awed at the idea.

Anders simply nodded.

Hawke smiled, a gruesome prospect with her current injuries. She touched Anders’ cheek, “You need to relax, love.” While she spoke she was gently petting her dog, who had settled down beside her and was licking her wherever he could reach her.

“Let me save the damned eye first, then I’ll relax.” 

Justice did not understand Anders’ emotional reaction. He was angry with himself and feeling guilty for some reason. It did not make sense, it was not Anders’ fault she had been injured. Justice had been served by their actions, both for the Qunari and for Anders’ woman. Justice had ended the man’s life for hurting her.

The thought gave him pause, was that why he had killed the Templar? Surely not, he had planned on killing the Templar even before Hawke had been injured. But he had killed the man in a painful and frightening manner specifically at Anders’ behest. 

The idea that he had killed the Templar for Hawke was strange. At length he decided it was not important. He had killed a Templar because he had deserved to die. It was as simple as that. There was nothing more he needed to know.

And the odd easing he felt in his chest, in Anders’ chest, when Anders managed to save Hawke’s eye did not warrant further thought either. He started withdrawing further back, distancing himself from Anders’ thoughts as they turned to desires of holding Hawke and covering her face with kisses. Justice did not care for Anders’ affectionate side.

********

Once Sekhmet’s face was completely healed Anders leaned forward and kissed the eyelid of the eye he had just healed. Tyr had pushed against Anders and started licking him. He patted the dogs’ head, “Yes, alright your welcome, but stop licking me already.” He pushed the dog away and Sekhmet giggled. He quickly silenced her with a kiss. He didn’t care that Sebastian and Aveline saw him kiss her; in fact a small part of him was glad Sebastian got to witness it.

The Chantry brother silently stood and moved away from the two of them probably trying to afford them a little privacy. Aveline had sighed quietly and walked away as well. When he broke the kiss he was surprised to see the concern in Sekhmet’s eyes. She’d nearly lost her eye, could have been permanently disfigured and she was worried about him?

She took his hand, the one not covered in blood, “Are you alright?”

He smiled and kissed her fingers trying; vainly he was sure, to dissuade her from turning the conversation towards Justice. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Anders,” his name was a soft admonishment on her lips.

Oh, there were so many other ways he’d rather hear her say his name. He didn’t want Sekhmet to worry about him. He’d caused enough problems in her life to last a lifetime, already. “Justice killed that Templar because I asked him to, not because I lost control. _I_ wanted that bastard dead; _I_ wanted him to pay for hurting you. Justice did what I asked, nothing more. And when I wanted to help you, he made sure I could.”

She nodded and touched her forehead to his, “Does it make me a terrible person if I wish I could kill him again?”

He smirked, “No, it makes you the woman I love.”

She giggled and moved back, standing up and tossing him a neckerchief, “Here, clean up a bit. We need to let the Viscount know what happened to the Qunari delegation.” She crossed the room to squat in front of the Qunari corpses, lying exactly where they fell after Varnell and the others had executed them.

Anders took the neckerchief and sniffed it, smiling when it smelled like his little lioness. He tucked the little purple square inside of his coat and used a bit of magic to clean the blood off his hand. He joined Sekhmet and Sebastian who were looking over the Qunari corpses.

“What are we going to do about them? I can’t imagine anyone telling the Arishok that his people were tortured.” Sebastian sounded nervous.

Sekhmet sighed heavily. “I’ll tell him. With any luck he won’t kill me.”

“No, Sekhmet, you can’t risk that.” Anders didn’t want her anywhere near the Arishok when he learned about the abuses his men had endured.

“I have to. Who else is there? Can you imagine someone from the guard trying to deal with him? Maybe, if I’m lucky he’ll listen to me. He doesn’t seem to hate me as much as he does everyone else.” She stood and brushed her hands off on her thighs, “Come on, let’s go.”

Anders kept his silence, for now. He needed to think of a better argument if he was going to convince her not to go to the Arishok. There had to be someone else who could do that, or at least someone else that should. Sekhmet shouldn’t be stuck bailing the city out everytime the Viscount had a problem. 

He turned to look at Aveline. Shouldn’t she be the one to talk to the Arishok? Right now she seemed very intent on not making eye contact with Anders. Which told him she was thinking the same thing he was but had no desire to do it and wasn’t planning on offering her services either. And here he had thought he couldn’t like Aveline any less than he already did.

They walked back to Hightown, Anders lagging a little behind Sekhmet as he contemplated the best way to get her to drop the idea of going to the Arishok. Sebastian walked mostly beside Sekhmet and they talked a few times but eventually he fell silent and slowed to walk beside Anders and Aveline lagged back even further. Anders hoped if he ignored Sebastian he would go away but he wasn’t that lucky. He was about to speed up to walk beside Sekhmet when Sebastian started speaking.

“I just can’t figure you out Anders.” He looked genuinely curious.

Ander sighed, trying not to sound too annoyed, “How so?”

“I just watched you kill a man with your bare hands, heal one of the worst injuries I’ve ever seen and then kiss a woman with such utter love and devotion that it made me feel painfully lonely. And you did it all in less than ten minutes. So, who are you, Anders? A killer, a healer, or a lover?” His eyes were fixed in rapt attention on Anders’ face.

Anders wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be some sort of strange lecture, a bizarre guilt trip or if Sebastian was trying to honestly strike up conversation. “Apparently, I’m all three.”

“You’ll make yourself mad trying to be everything.”

Anders chuckled, “You’d be surprised by the things I can do.”

Sebastian gave him a small smile and nodded, “You’re probably right. You’re a very surprising man, Anders.” He watched Sekhmet for a moment before looking at Anders again. “Which I suppose is only fitting, since she is the most surprising woman I’ve ever met.”

Anders didn’t respond, he was too angry to respond. He didn’t like Sebastian talking about Sekhmet, didn’t like him being near Sekhmet. And definitely did not like the strange bond the two of them shared.

Sebastian called out for Sekhmet who had pulled even further ahead of the two of them. “Just where do you think you’re going, dear sister? That’s not the way to the Keep.”

She paused and looked back at him, “I have a quick stop to make, a meeting. I figured I’d get it out of the way now.”

Sebastian scowled a little, “And what about the viscount?”

She shrugged, “We’ll fetch him afterwards. It’s not like the Qunari are going anywhere.”

Anders suppressed a grin at Sebastian’s look of tired resignation. Apparently, the chantry brother knew better than to argue with Sekhmet. Anders knew better, he just usually couldn’t help himself.

He lowered his voice, and murmured to Sebastian. “She’ll bring you everything but peace.”

Sebastian turned his teal colored eyes back to look at him. “If that’s what you think you’re missing the best parts of her. I’ve found hours of peace in her company. With her is the only place I have found peace since my family was murdered.”

Anders didn’t end up responding because just then they walked into the merchant’s guild and found a group of Templars standing there, obviously waiting for them. Justice immediately started pushing at Anders, insisting it was a trap and demanding to be loosed so he could kill them all. And although he wasn’t sure who Sekhmet had been expecting, from the look on her face it wasn’t the Templars now standing before them. He watched as her face turned cold at the sight.

An older Templar woman stood before them, her eyes coolly appraising, scanning over the entire group before returning to Sekhmet. “You came, good.”

Anders watched Sekhmet carefully to see if she recognized the Templar woman at all because he couldn’t so much as remember seeing the Templar woman before. But Sekhmet didn’t seem to know her either. 

She scowled, “And just who are you?”

The Templar woman narrowed her gaze, “You probably thought you got away with it, didn’t you?”

If the Templar was trying to ruffle Sekhmet’s feathers she was failing miserably. His darling lioness just stared impassively at her. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, didn’t give anything away, just stared.

When Sekhmet didn’t respond the Templar must have assumed that Sekhmet didn’t know what she was referring to, so she elaborated. “Ser Kerras and the others,” there was no reaction from Sekhmet, “their deaths.” Still Sekhmet didn’t respond. 

Anders almost laughed, what did she expect? Did she think Sekhmet would suddenly confess to murdering Kerras and the other Templars?

The Templar started pacing, “An inquiry decided that the escaped mages must have killed them but I have always suspected it was you.”

Sekhmet smirked at her, “Suspect all you want.” 

The Templar woman stopped her pacing, turned to face Sekhmet and sneered, nearly bristling with self-righteousness. “My brothers, tonight justice will be done.” Her voice rang out calling the other Templars to arms. And with that she and her fellow Templars attacked. 

It seemed the attack was a provocation too far by the Templars for Sekhmet. She snarled in rage and viscously stabbed her accuser in the face before cutting off her head. “I want them all dead.” She growled in fury as she swung at her next attacker.

Anders let Justice take control, watching as the spirit heaped punishment and death on the Templars. He caught Sebastian out of the corner of his eye standing back and looking pale. He seemed to be defending himself but wasn’t actually attacking the Templars. Aveline was giving a lackluster performance as well. Even still, between Sekhmet’s fury and Justice’s brutal efficiency the fight was over quickly.

And when it was done Sekhmet stood there blood dripping from her blades, her face and hood streaked with blood and her eyes still blazing with unquenched anger. She turned and looked at Anders or maybe she was looking at Justice. A smile curled her lips, a gruesome smile, a viscous and cruel smile. “I’m done playing nice with the Templars in this city. I’ll make these damned streets run red with their cursed blood.” 

Her voice was low, dangerous sounding. “I’ll hunt them like they hunt mages. They’ll fear my name; shake at the sight of me. It’s time for them to reap what they have sown.” She looked around her at the Templar corpses and seemed to calm a little, “We’ll see how they like what they’ve made.”

Anders felt pleasure ripple through him; it took him a moment to realize it was Justice. Justice was positively brimming with pleasure at Sekhmet’s words. He knew all too well how dangerous that could be, but a small part of him was glad that Justice was warming to Sekhmet, at least a little, in any way.

Sebastian walked cautiously towards her, likely seeking to soothe her anger. “Sekhmet…”

She spun and looked at him, her eyes wild again, “No, not this time Sebastian. Don’t you dare plead for mercy for them.” She took a ragged shaking breath and it was only then that Anders realized she was on the verge of tears. Why? What could possibly make her so sad? “I have little enough mercy left to be wasting it on undeserving Templars.” 

Sebastian nodded as he put a consoling arm around her shoulders, “Alright, I’ll leave it be, for now.” Had the Chantry brother expected this odd emotional response from her?

Anders realized he was grinding his teeth and forced himself to stop. The entire day had really put him through his paces emotionally. He disliked Sebastian more with every passing second. He hated the connection the man shared with his little lioness. Right now, he really just wanted to go home and curl up with Sekhmet, but their task wasn’t finished yet.

The idea gave him pause. Home? Really? Did he already think of her estate as home? Or was it even more of a cliché like home was just wherever she was? No. When he thought about it he imagined the estate. He imagined Sekhmet’s embraces and Leandra’s laughter that was almost like music. He imagined Orana’s tentative smiles, Bodahn’s warm heartedness and Sandal, all the beautiful and beguiling mystery that was Sandal. 

And much as he hated to admit it he even imagined Sekhmet’s dog, the huge black beast that was almost constantly at her side. The dog whose place he’d taken in her bed. The dog who was always happy to see him, yet didn’t seem to need anything from him. The dog who had accepted him as readily as his mistress had. 

He felt himself smiling, home. He had a home. He’d longed for one all his life, and had even found one for a time with the Wardens, with Sareyna and Alistair and the others. And now he’d been given a second chance, a second home and the possibility of a second family. He realized someone was calling his name and looked up at Sekhmet who was watching him carefully. 

“Everything alright?” 

He nodded, “Yes, I was just thinking about…home.”

She looked at him curiously, “Home?”

“Home, let’s go get the Viscount and finish dealing with this mess so we can go home.” And to Anders' annoyance Sebastian smiled. He was beaming at Anders, looking ridiculously pleased. 

Sekhmet smiled and nodded, looking relieved before heading straight to the Viscount’s Keep. The man was sleeping but once they convinced the guard to rouse him and let him know she was there he was with them in mere minutes. Anders kept silent and walked a few paces behind Sekhmet and Aveline with Sebastian while the women filled the Viscount in on all that had happened on the way back to the scene of the crime.

Aveline and the Viscount’s personal guard looked carefully over the carnage as Sekhmet spoke with the Viscount. The man was distraught with the implications of the scene before them and all that had transpired and Anders couldn’t blame him. It made for some terrifying prospects.

He was more than a little surprised when she counseled the Viscount not to hide the condition of the Qunari bodies from the Arishok. He sincerely hoped she knew what she was doing. He wasn’t sure he would have made the same call. The Arishok was so on edge as it was; this could put him over the edge.

She stayed, answering any questions the guard or the Viscount directed at her but otherwise let Aveline and Sebastian do the talking. Sebastian was so desperate for the Viscount to understand that Varnell was a zealot and not indicative of the majority of the Chantry. Aveline, true to form was factual and concise answering most of the questions and directing the other guards to look for any clues that might lead to anyone who had not attended the rally.

Sekhmet remained at Anders’ side, the day and long night dragging on her, showing in the strain on her face. He took her arm and pulled her back out of the sight of the others and cast a quick rejuvenation over her. She sighed in gratitude for a moment, then stiffened.

“What are you doing? The Viscount’s right there.” She hissed at him.

He smiled just the slightest. “He’s probably already well aware that I’m an apostate, but I did make sure he couldn’t see us.”

He could see her warring with herself grateful for the help but worried about him getting caught. “What if he can sense magic like I can?”

He smile morphed into a smirk, “Then he’ll know one of us is a mage and will probably figure out it’s the one toting a staff on his back. Relax, right now I think he’d forgive you anything he’s so grateful, including an apostate lover.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re so damned frustrating. You’re so worried about the Templars but the Viscount is fine?”

“The viscount owes you, love. Now come on and let’s get headed back before they wonder where we wandered off to.” He walked back without waiting for her, but could feel her walking a few steps behind him.

Aveline looked up, saw them and walked over, “Good, you’re here. The Viscount was wondering if someone should talk to the Arishok, see where he stands after all of this.”

Sekhmet smiled the slightest bit, “And you volunteered me.”

Aveline looked a little chagrined, “Well, I might have suggested we ask you since you seem to have a relationship with him.”

“Fine, are you staying here or joining me?”

She looked back to the corpses, “I think I should probably stay here.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Alright guys, who’s ready for a trip to the docks to visit the Arishok?”

Sebastian looked worried, “Do you think that’s wise?” 

Anders was worried too, but knew Sekhmet was going to go either way. “It’s alright Sebastian; she has us to watch out for her.” Tyr barked at Anders and he chuckled a little, “Right, and Tyr the fearsome beastie too.”

Sebastian nodded, “Well, as long as we’re taking the dog.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “Alright Tyr, lead on oh fearsome one.” 

Her Mabari, fantastic and brilliant dog that he was, barked again happily and led them all out of the sewers.


	44. A Lover Like This

Sekhmet walked up the steps towards the Qunari compound and tried not to worry. Both Sebastian and Anders were tense and it was setting her on edge. The Viscount had sent several men with her carrying the bodies of the missing delegates.

The Qunari at the gate stopped the men but when he saw her nodded and pushed open the gates for them. She followed the small procession inside, directing them to the steps where the Arishok held court. He stood and walked quietly down the steps, taking the drapes and uncovering the bodies one by one without a word.

Once he had seen them all, assessed the damage he gestured to several of his men who came and took the corpses away from the Viscount’s men. “Leave,” he snarled at them, and they all rushed to leave the compound as expeditiously as possible.

She held her ground, waiting for the huge man to speak to her. He walked up the steps first and took a seat on his makeshift throne. She noticed how tired he looked; obviously things were not going as smoothly as he had hoped.

“So, you were not able to save my delegate but I hear that you killed those responsible.”

She nodded.

“How do you explain the condition of bodies?”

This was what she’d been waiting for; they would see where he would go from here. “The work of a fanatic trying to use them to incite others of his kind to violence.”

A long pause, before he sat back on the throne in a less aggressive posture. “I accept that.”

She actually heard Sebastian sigh in relief behind her and only just managed to stop herself from smiling. Now was not the time. She was grateful the Arishok wasn’t going to make this more of a mess than it already was by seeking vengeance for the abuses his men had faced. “Thank you.”

He nodded his great horned head in acknowledgement. “I have seen every vice and weakness of your kind and how few of you take responsibility. Your viscount remains a fool, but you are not. Panahedan Hawke, I will keep one good thought about your kind.”

As they cleared the gates Sebastian turned to her, “I don’t know how you do that, keep going in there and keep speaking to him, keep bringing him the most awful of news yet manage to walk out every time.”

She scowled, surely Sebastian didn’t believe the Chantry propaganda that the Qunari were all savages. “Why shouldn’t I go speak with him? He’s a man like any other. He has the ability to see reason. Which, I’m pretty sure, we just proved beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Anders spoke quietly from beside her, “He’s not a man like any other. The Qunari don’t think like we do. Every time you go in there you risk your life.”

She turned to him, stunned, “Seriously, you too Anders?”

“Me too?” he asked incredulously, “Damned right, me too. You take too many risks; put yourself in harm’s way too much.”

“You do, Sekhmet. You don’t always have to be the one to deal with them; it’s not your job.” Sebastian kept his voice quiet as well, but they were still both lecturing her.

“And everyone in this city is as afraid of him as you two seem to be. Just what do think would have happened if we hadn’t dealt with this? Hmm?” Neither of them would look at her because they knew the same thing she did. 

If she hadn’t had taken care of this, hadn’t intervened war very likely would have broken out over the city. Tensions were running high in the city as it was, and this was just the kind of spark needed to start the fight. 

“It’s been a long night, and I’m exhausted. Can we stop arguing and head home?” She really was tired, but mostly she didn’t want to fight with Anders and Sebastian. 

“Home,” Sebastian scoffed, “The Chantry isn’t going to feel quite so much like home now.”

“I’m sorry,” and she really was, she couldn’t imagine her home, her sanctuary being invaded by someone as poisonous as Mother Petrice.

Sebastian sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Perhaps it’s time to move on.”

She touched his shoulder, trying to console him even as she felt Anders stiffen beside her. Her darling mage really couldn’t stand her touching Sebastian, and though she loved Anders dearly he would have to get used to Sebastian sooner or later. She had no intentions of ending her friendship over Anders' petty jealousy. “Don’t let her spoil it for you, brother. She’s the reason the Chantry needs people like you.” 

He gave her a small sheepish smile, “A man who has forsaken his vows for revenge? Perhaps I’m more like her than I care to admit.”

Anders snorted and walked away and Sekhmet let him go. She didn’t need him making things harder for Sebastian anyways. She did, however, get Sebastian moving away from the compound and towards Hightown.

Sebastian was having one of his rare moments of crystal clarity. He usually didn’t think about the fact that he had abandoned the Chantry and the Maker for revenge. She could understand, it was probably easier not to think of it that way. Who wanted to admit to being motivated by vengeance? Well, besides her.

“You wanted the people who murdered your family to pay. She’s trying to start a war with the Qunari merely because they exist, not because they did anything to her, not because they have harmed her or threatened her in anyway, just because they exist. What you did was a far cry from that.” 

He nodded but didn’t speak.

“Sebastian, I mean it. You’re nothing like her; would she have stood at the wrong end of a dwarf with a crossbow to spare a man she’d never met?” She needed him to snap out of it. Perhaps she didn’t agree with the Chantry, but Sebastian belonged there. He’d found peace with the Chantry once, and with any luck he could again. She shuddered to think of him returning to his old life.

“Okay, I get your point. Now let’s hurry before Anders disappears completely.” He sped his steps a little, effectively ending the discussion.

Anders was not going to be pleased with her for this next part, but she had to. It wasn’t right to force Sebastian to go somewhere he didn’t want to be. “You know you’ll always have a place at the estate, right?”

He paused and turned to her with a smile, “Really? That’s…” he hugged her tight for just the briefest moment. “That’s very generous, but I’ll manage.”

“The offer remains, nonetheless.”

He chuckled, “You’d risk the wrath of your new beau for me?”

“I’d do a lot more than that for family.”

He took her hand for a moment and squeezed it gently. “I’m not sure you have any idea how much that means to me. You really are a gift from the Maker.” He started walking and tugged her along after him, “Perhaps you’re right, I should stay at the Chantry to do my best to keep an eye on Petrice if nothing else.”

And things were pretty much back to normal. Anders was waiting for them at the far end of Lowtown, scowling at the two of them as they approached even though they weren’t touching anymore. He joined them for the long walk up the stairs into Hightown.

Sekhmet sighed with relief as Anders closed the door behind them. “Home at last.”

He smiled and stroked her hair, “I like the sound of that.”

“What do you want to do first, raid the kitchen and eat or take a bath?” She was having a hard time deciding herself. She was hungry but she was also sweaty, filthy and covered in blood, as per usual.

A sexy smile curved Anders’ lips, “Hmm, let’s grab something and take it upstairs, I want you naked sooner rather than later.”

Knowing Anders wanted her, even after the long night of fighting and treachery made her warm all over. This thing with him still felt unreal, like she was living in one of her fantasies. Now if she could just stop looking for reasons to nay say it her life would be fantastic.

As it was she knew she was driving him crazy with her constant insecurity. The niggling thought that this wasn’t real; that he didn’t really want her wouldn’t go away. Now that he had finally agreed to move in it was a little better. Though, even that had been an ordeal.

That first night, that magical, amazing, still hard to believe first night he had seemed pleased about the prospect of moving in with her. But then she’d practically had to beg him. Her mother had been the one insisting on it, but each time he’d declined had been like a little dagger to her heart.

“Stop it,” Anders admonished before bending down and kissing her.

It was like lightning, lighting up her insides, warming them, waking her completely. She loved kissing Anders, loved the way he tasted. Loved the way his lips felt rocking against hers, loved the way his tongue swept into her mouth, gentle but insistent, needy. He kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered. She needed to remember this feeling, hold onto it and think back to it whenever she doubted Anders wanted to be with her.

“I can see you over thinking this again, doubting how much I love you.” His long fingers caressed her cheek, her jaw. “I swear to you I will find a way to make it up to you, to show you how much I cherish you.”

She smiled for him, hating the fact that he could sense her doubt, “I’ll be fine.”

His smiled cranked a little wider and he pulled her against his body, “I think what you meant was that you _are_ fine.”

She giggled, pleasure suffusing through her. Maker, she loved him. “Laying it on a bit thick now, aren’t you?”

“Never,” he turned her lose, spun her around and gave her a smack on the ass. “Come on, let’s go grab some food, I have plans for you and that tub.”

In the pantry as she was looking through the shelves he suddenly wrapped his arm around her pulled her back against him and whispered in her ear, “Where do you think your mother is?”

She shivered a little, as he nuzzled her ear. “Probably in bed, why?”

He licked the shell of her ear, “Because I wouldn’t want her to see me do this.” He reached around her and slipped his hand inside the bottom half of her armor, into her trousers and inside of her smalls. His long fingers slipped down between her folds and circled her clit.

And just like that she was on fire, face aflame, body tingling, and sex slick. Her heart skittered and raced in her chest and her mind screeched to a halt as it gave over to the sensations he was stirring in her. She gasped in genuine shock, “Anders.”

“Go ahead, try to tell me you don’t like it.” He swirled his fingers around her clit some more. “Tell me you want me to stop.”

She didn’t want him to stop, not by a long shot. There was the smallest flicker telling her she should be angry at him for attacking her so abruptly but the truth was it had turned her on immensely. His fingers felt so good and now he was kissing her neck.

“Weren’t you doing something, love?”

She couldn’t think straight, “Hmm?”

He chuckled gently in her ear. “Food, weren’t you getting some food?”

“Oh, I uh…Ohh,” the thought fizzled out, turning into a moan as he pushed a finger inside of her. He’d taken her from calm and tired to pre-orgasmic inferno in moments. 

He bit her ear and she found herself grinding against his hand, fucking herself on his finger. He worked his hand in tandem, stroking into her while he ground the palm of his hand against her clit. “You have no idea how incredibly gorgeous you are right now.” His voice was deeper, almost a rasp now and his cock was hot and hard against her back. “More?”

Unable to speak coherently she just nodded and groaned in satisfaction as he pushed another finger into her sex. She gripped his forearm as she continued rubbing and thrusting against his hand. She barely noticed the increasingly loud panting noises she was making. She pushed herself higher and higher chasing frantically after her orgasm, needing desperately to cum now.

“Sekhmet, love, would now be a bad time to tell you I’m not going to let you cum until you find us food?” He slowed his fingers movements and held her tighter, stopping her from rubbing against his hand.

“What?” She couldn’t believe him. How the Void did he expect her to think enough to find them food after what he’d just been doing to her.

He stroked slowly into her a few times, and caressed her clit. “I’m not going to stop either, so you better find something quickly…” she swore she could hear him smirking, “or not, I can be patient, can you?”

“You’re a fucking bastard.” She growled trying to focus.

He chuckled, “Well, I’m a bastard at any rate, you just wish I was fucking you.”

She struggled to get free of him, “Let me go, Anders.”

“Oh, and just a moment ago you were so enjoying my touches.” He kissed her neck and nuzzled his nose against her. “You don’t really want me to let you go though, do you? You’re enjoying this at least a little, aren’t you?” He slowly pushed a third finger into her as he spoke, stretching her making her feel so full. 

And the bitch of it was she was enjoying it. The idea of having to try to function, to think while he was…was…touching, oh yes, it felt so damned good. She wanted to do this for him, to play this little game with him, for him. She wanted to be what he wanted, what he needed.

She felt like her knees were going to buckle, but Anders held her upright while he played with her body. She tried focusing on the shelves in front of her and not how bloody fantastic and full she felt with his fingers inside of her. She suddenly remembered a crock full of pickles towards the back of the shelf and started moving stuff to get to it.

Anders practically purred in pleasure, “That’s my girl, Maker how I love you.” He latched onto her neck sucking hard, following along with her as she moved to pull the crock forward. 

She opened it and pulled out several pickles, setting them on a plate she’d brought in with her earlier. She shook and trembled as she closed the crock and pushed it back. Fuck, what else? Anders was letting her grind against his hand again and she couldn’t help herself. It was just making it harder to think though.

She grabbed a loaf of bread, put it on the platter and reached for the top shelf but couldn’t quite reach it. “Anders, grab the cheese.”

He bit her neck again, “Sorry, this is all on you sweetheart.”

She needed to cum so badly that she could barely see straight. So carefully, with shaky legs and movement hindered by Anders’ hand between her thighs she climbed up to stand on the bottom shelf and grabbed the cheese off the top shelf as well as a couple of apples. As she went to step down her knee buckled and Anders had to keep her from crumpling to the floor.

His hand stilled as he clutched her close to him. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, feeling weak and still so close to her orgasm. “Let me cum, please.”

He moved her hair off her neck and kissed the back of her neck before biting it gently. “Of course, my love.” 

Instead of moving his hand again she felt a hot prickle against her sex and then her orgasm was ripping through her. Anders let go of her only to clap his hand over her mouth and stifle her surprised shout as she came hard enough to see stars. There were literally bright pinpoints of light dancing in her vision as her body spasmed and pleasure rolled through her body in great crashing waves.

It took her a moment to regain her senses and realize Anders was laughing, not cruelly, just genuinely amused. “Sorry, I had no idea you were going to be so loud.” He snickered and slowly slid his hand out of her trousers. 

She immediately turned around to face him and caught him licking his fingers clean with obvious relish. “What did you do to me?” She asked, still feeling a bit dazed and surprisingly aroused again at seeing him lick her juices from his fingers.

“Just a little harmless magic, I promise.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and caressed her jaw, “If you’re really good, I’ll show you again later.”

Was it any wonder she felt like an inexperienced girl next to Anders? She was used to quick drunken tumbles with farmers and ruffians. Anders was something altogether different. And it wasn’t just him; the whole situation she found herself in was different now. 

This was not a one night stand in a room rented by the hour or pile of hay. It wasn’t a tryst with someone she wouldn’t speak to, and would try to pretend didn’t exist if and when she saw him again. This was an actual relationship. And Anders’ playful approach to sex was completely new to her, nothing like the drunken fumblings of her previous partners.

He suddenly swept her up and tossed her over his shoulder, grabbed the plate she had laden with food in the other hand and headed upstairs. She didn’t know whether to be amused by his antics or annoyed to be toted around like a sack of potatoes. He caressed her thigh as he carried her and then gave her ass another smack as they crested the top of the stairs. Sekhmet could only be grateful no one was around to see it.

When he set her on her feet in her room… _their_ room, he gave her another smile, this one more on the tender side. Quickly, he set the tray of food down then traced his fingers lightly over her face. She forced herself not to shudder when she realized he was tracing the path of where that bastard Varnell’s knife had carved across her face.

“Did it scar?” She asked softly, wondering if that was why he was being so tender all of a sudden.

He tutted in mock indignation, “Do you really think I’d let another man mark my woman? Or is it my skill as a healer you’re questioning?”

“Never,” and instead of coming out playful as she had intended, it ended up sounding terribly earnest.

A soft smile played about his beautifully sculpted lips, her declaration had pleased him apparently. He reached for one of the buckles on her armor, “I want you naked.”

Shivers ran down her spine as she started taking off her armor. “You always want me naked,” she teased.

His smile widened , “I do, I always want you naked and wet for me, ready for me.” He tugged the top of her armor off, “I want your nipples always hard and aching for my touch.” He dragged her tunic up off over her head and reached to untie her breast band and looked into her eyes, his own eyes dark and dangerous looking. “If I had my way you’d spend most of your life just this side of orgasm, whole body thrumming and throbbing with need, desperately needing me and only me to make you cum.”

The way he talked, the things he said, sweet Maker the man was like sex incarnate sometimes. She was panting again, heart racing, body aching for his touch. How could he possibly talk her into such a state, she flushed as she realized how wet she was listening to the rumbling purr of his voice.

He crouched down on his haunches looking at her now bare breasts, and her nipples, that were indeed hard and aching, but didn’t touch her. “I love how dark the color of your nipples is.” His tongue snaked out to wet his lips. “And I love how the harder they get the darker they get.”

He skimmed his hands up her sides, stroking the underside of her breasts with his thumbs, narrowly missing her nipples making them tighten further in anticipation. He fell silent for a moment as he stared, looking almost mesmerized at her breasts as he stroked and teased her. He swept his thumbs closer and closer to her nipples but never actually touched them and the more she shivered and gasped the bigger his smile became.

He shifted his hands and ran his thumbs around her nipples, still not touching them, but oh so very, very close. She struggled not to move, to let him tease her until he’d had his fill but it was increasingly difficult. She wanted to beg him to please touch her nipples; they were beginning to ache unbearably. 

Each circle of his thumbs set a bolt of electricity between her legs and made her nipples throb. He stared only at her breasts, enthralled with what he was doing to her. He shifted his hands again, grabbing her breasts, careful not to touch her nipples and squeezed them, forcing more blood into their already engorged tips. 

She moaned as the blood was forced into her already aching nipples. She could feel every heartbeat throb hard in her sensitized nipples. He held them tight for a few moments before squeezing a little harder, it didn’t hurt but her nipples were beginning to feel like the only part of her that existed and he still wouldn’t touch them. 

He kept it up for another few moments before squeezing and releasing her breasts a few times. He squeezed again and held them for what felt like an eternity, watching her nipples turn nearly purple before releasing and then skimming his thumb around her much darker and much more swollen nipples.

“Do they ache love?” He asked with a smile.

She nodded.

“Are you desperate for me to touch your pretty purple nipples?” He teased as he moved his thumbs a hair’s breadth closer.

“Yes,” she managed to squeak out. She so desperately wanted him to touch them she’d be willing to do just about anything to get him touch her.

He flashed her a devilish grin and took his hands away completely. “Good, now let’s see if we can get the rest of you that desperate and needy.” 

She couldn’t believe him; he was just going to leave her nipples sore and aching? She briefly thought about trying to relieve the ache herself but for now she’d play his game. How could she not, the payoff was usually too damned good to pass up. And from the smug look on his face he knew she wouldn’t dare touch herself without his permission, the bastard.

“Hmm, on second thought, why don’t you finish undressing yourself while I keep enjoying these fantastic tits of yours?” He reached out and gripped her with his thumb and forefinger right behind the nipple, squeezing, making her nipple stand out more and throb and even worse than before.

She looked down at his hand as he played with her just scant millimeters from where she wanted, needed to be touched, but she did what he asked. Firstly, bending over to remove her boots, Anders made her pull and tug on her breasts, which were clasped in his hands, to bend over, not hurting her, just forcing more blood into her engorged nipples. She tried to hurry; she wanted to be free of her clothes so that he would finally touch her desperately aching nipples which were throbbing more strongly with each moment.

Suddenly, he stopped, letting her breasts go and pulling her upright. “Sekhmet, if this is too much you have to tell me, alright?”

She nodded, surprised and touched by his concern. She was aching of course, but so far she was enjoying it and the promise of more. “I’m very, very alright right now.” She tried to reassure him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then another.

“Anders?” Now she was the concerned one. He seemed to be fighting himself for some reason. Had he wanted her to fight him more on this? What had she done wrong?

He opened his eyes and smiled at her, “I’m good, just not sure I have the patience for this right now.” He reached for her leg and steadied her while he tugged off her boot and then the other one as well. She helped him as he took off the bottom of her armor and then her trousers and smalls. His smile widened, “There, much better.”

His eyes travelled up her legs to her inner thighs and she watched as his eyes widened and he licked his lips. “Seems you really were enjoying yourself,” he said sounding awed as he slid his finger across the slick coating the inside of her thigh. He sucked his finger clean and made a little contented sighing noise. 

Gently, he tugged her legs apart and started licking the inside of her thighs moaning like a starving man finally getting a decent meal. “So damned good,” he murmured.

She felt herself flushing again, even as she felt herself getting even wetter. Anders’ obvious enjoyment of her taste always made her feel a little strange and giddy at the same time. She had to pay attention to keep her balance as he tugged her this way and that to get better access. And when he shifted, running his tongue between the lips of her sex she nearly collapsed. 

He chuckled and held onto her, steadying her. “Sorry, got a little carried away.” His brown eyes were warm and happy much to her relief. He took another deep slow breath, “Besides, I’m supposed to be teasing you, aren’t I?”

She almost pulled away at the idea of more teasing, her legs and her insides felt like jelly as it was. She was already desperately hungry for him, needed him to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her. She wondered how he would react if she were to push him to his back and climb onto him.

He ran his hands down her legs, squeezing her calves gently and placing a soft kiss on her mound. “I can feel you shaking meus parnum leana. Are you ready to bolt, love?”

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” She asked again, not really expecting an answer at this point. Anders would tell her only if and when he decided to and no amount of prompting would change that. He could be even more stubborn than she was.

He reached up to touch her shoulders and stroked his hands down her back gently and kissed her stomach, slid them down her sides, and kissed her left hip before gripping her hips and kissing the other hip, “No, never.” He stopped and nuzzled her stomach, whispering fiercely “Sometimes, I love you so much it hurts, burns inside me like fire.”

She touched his head as it cradled against her stomach, warmth blooming anew inside of her. This was what she needed, to feel loved and treasured. To feel as if she were the most important thing to him, even if it was only for a moment, even if it was only an illusion. 

He rested his head there for a moment, holding her close before pulling away. He gently urged her legs further apart again. “Don’t run,” he whispered before running his tongue over her sex. 

She trembled and pulled the leather thong from his hair, listening to him sigh happily against her flesh as she slid her fingers through the long golden strands. He licked at her eagerly, stoking her arousal higher, pushing the smoldering embers back to life. At first he just tasted her wetness, the slick that coated her from all his earlier teasing.

As he began to tease her again, swirl his tongue around the swollen and needy flesh of her clit, circling her opening, she tightened her grip on his hair. She shifted her hips, tipping them forward for him, giving him better access. He circled his arms around her thighs holding her open to this questing tongue and teasing lips.

As her blood heated she wanted more and more to feel his tongue inside her. She had incredibly vivid memories of the amazing things that tongue could do. And as often as he used it she was worried she’d start preferring it to the rest of him. She couldn’t help herself and giggled out loud.

Anders looked up at her with raised brow, “Am I amusing you?”

“Sorry,” she giggled.

He watched her for another moment then snorted dismissively before moving back to taste between her legs again. He tasted and teased her, licked and sucked her skin making her shiver with need. Her heart raced and sweat broke out over her skin, she was only a breath away from her orgasm but couldn’t seem to get over that last rise.

And then Anders was gone, moving with a surprising speed and that wonderful grace of his. He swept her up into his arms, kissing her and carrying her quickly to the bathing chamber. He settled her gently on her feet and quickly traced the dwarven rune to start the water flowing. 

He bent and kissed her again while he stripped his own clothes off. As soon as some of his skin was bared she touched him, caressed his beautiful skin enjoying its warmth. Beautiful, her gorgeous Anders, her stunning mage was the most exquisite man she’d ever seen.

He pulled away, touched the water and then scooped her up, settling her into the tub. “I’ll be right back.” With that he disappeared.

The water was perfect and she was glowing from all the attention, the night before and all its crap mostly forgotten. She smiled when Anders came back, nearly giggling at him. He was carrying the platter of food, apparently he really was that hungry. He dragged a chair over to the side of the tub and set the food down on it. 

He grinned at her, and picked her up, settling himself into the tub and setting her down so she was straddling his lap facing him. She gasped and moaned when he shifted immediately sliding into her, unexpectedly stretching and filling her. He groaned closing his eyes and dropping his head backwards.

He stayed still, breathing deeply for a moment. He lifted his head to look at her, eyes practically glowing and a contented smile on his lips. “I think we both needed that.” He shifted, “Don’t move, I just want to enjoy the feeling of being connected, of being part of you.” 

He kissed her again, gently this time, unhurried and languid. She could practically melt from the tenderness of it. Anders was her enigma, her strange and loving, tender and demanding other half. 

She revelled in the feeling of him inside of her, stretching her so much, filling her so completely, so perfectly. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to this, to being with him so totally, to being his utterly. Truth be told she didn’t want to get used to it, every moment was new, was an exploration, was something to look forward to and an experience to cherish.

He broke the kiss and traced his thumb over her lips. “Feed me, love?”

She smiled and nodded, _“Anything,”_ she wanted to say, _“I’d do anything for you. All you have to do is ask and I’d give you anything.”_ But she knew it was too much, too desperate and too needy sounding and so she kept the words to herself. Instead, she reached for the cheese and a knife she didn’t remember grabbing.

She fed him, and he fed her. The two of them laughing, rocking together slowly every now and then to keep their bodies from becoming too complacent. And they kissed, and kissed and touched and kissed until it felt as necessary as breathing, until he tasted like her and she tasted like him.

Everytime, she had a great difficulty tearing her hands away from his skin to feed him the next bite of apple or cheese. It was an odd feeling, the low riding arousal, the need to touch him, the languid rock of their bodies and the completely mundane act of eating…now something new, something different. She’d never look at an apple the same way again, she was sure of it.

He kissed her again and bit her bottom lip, “Want to know a secret, my love?”

She nodded, not sure she could speak she was so full to bursting with new sensations and emotions.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” He whispered in her ear, running the tip of his nose around the sensitive shell. “Never even dreamed of anything like this until today, until now, until you. You are so incredibly perfect.” He kissed her again, urging her lips open, tongue caressing hers, tasting her. “Ride me, Sekhmet, like you did the first time, please.” To hear him beg, the need and desire in his voice, it was its own kind of magic.

And so she did, resting her hands on his shoulders and rising slowly up his length before slowly sliding down, her eyes locked to his. He settled his hands onto her hips and she felt a warm feathery caress through her spreading, a tingling warmth over her skin. “Oh,” it was a soft whisper of surprise, “What is that?”

He smiled at her, “Very close to healing magic, you like it?”

She nodded, it was the most incredible thing she’d ever felt. It made her pulse race and made her feel warm and buttery all over. “Can you do it again?”

“Let me try something?” He kept guiding her, keeping her moving up and down on his length.

“Yes, of course.” And then her nails were digging into his flesh and a loud moan escaped her. Every single place his skin was touching her, every single centimeter was a bright touch of that warm tingling, like pure ecstatic pleasure. Her senses were on overload and her mind kind of fogged out, her thoughts turning fuzzy. 

Her skin was alive, and it felt so much more than good, so much more than amazing. So much she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t get her body to do anything but feel and feel and feel. Her vision was even graying out around the edges.

Anders stroked her face gently, looking almost a little scared. “Breathe Sekhmet, you have to breathe.”

She let out a shuddering breath as the feeling subsided, “Andraste’s tits, Anders.”

He kissed her, “Sorry,” he kissed her again gently, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He stroked her hair and kissed her, a soft gentle press of his lips.

She shivered as started to regain her senses. “Too much…”

“I know, I’m sorry, no more magic, I promise.” He looked her over touching her gently as if to make sure she was still whole, still in one piece. She felt him trembling under her. “We should stop…we should really,” he took a shuddery breath of his own, “really stop.” He swallowed thickly.

She gathered herself and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling against him and kissing his cheek before whispering in his ear. “Anders, if you stop I’m going to be quite cross with you.”

She could hear the smile in his voice, “Cross?”

“Mmm,” she bit his ear, “furious.”

He chuckled, “Well I wouldn’t want that.” He gripped her tighter and pulled her down onto him as he thrust up into her deeply but gently letting her feel every centimeter of him inside of her. She could still feel fine trembles under his skin, but he seemed to be ignoring it now. “How did I get lucky enough to be able to make love to you?”

Would it be rude of her to tell him to shut up? Not that she didn’t love to hear the roughened sound of his voice, not that she didn’t appreciate his incredible sweetness. But after so much teasing and playfulness and that jolt of…of whatever the void it had been lighting her up inside like some kind of lantern, she just wanted him to make love to her, not talk about it, just to do it.

She kissed him, slipping her hand into his hair and shifted to start riding him again. Feeling his cock slide in and out of her, stretching and filling, rubbing inside of her with delicious friction. Yes, this was what she needed, what she wanted. He rocked her back and forth using his body to rub against her clit as she moved up and down. He was trying to keep her moving slow and even but she was getting incredibly impatient.

She vaguely noticed the water splashing out of the tub as she started moving faster and faster losing herself in the sensations of Anders and his incredible body. He broke the kiss to caress her skin softly and watch her with something akin to wonder in his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes were so dark they were nearly black as he watched her, moaning softly periodically, lips parted in pleasure. He licked his gorgeous lips, distracting her.

Anders was an incredibly beautiful and sensual creature. The man came alive when they were intimate, like he truly couldn’t live without it, like he was only alive when they were a tangled mess of sweat and naked limbs. And he didn’t look ridiculous or out of place when he was naked and fucking like most men did. 

Anders was gorgeous; he was the breathtaking magnum opus of a master artisan. He followed both their pleasure like it was his god and he was lifetime devotee, like he was a high priest communing in the depths of a ritual. And he filled her so completely, filled her more than anyone ever had before, on this perfect edge of almost too much. 

She laced both her hands into his hair, pulling him tight against her to kiss him, reveling in the feel of his almost feminine lips molded against hers, opening beneath her lightly probing tongue, sweeping into his mouth, enjoying the wet heat of it. Kissing him almost feverishly, devouring his taste and feel as she ground against him. He purred deep in his chest and pulled her hips downward a little harder as he thrust his hips up into her, swirling them, stroking across the swollen, soft, slightly spongy spot inside of her and sparking off her first orgasm. 

Her hands tightened in his hair and she shuddered as her sex spasmed around him, as she melted around him in delicious delight. The pleasure went on and on when Anders didn’t slow, didn’t alter his movement, kept driving into her, filling her so completely, so gloriously. Her beautiful sweet mage doing wicked, wicked things to her body and when the euphoria finally started to subside she wasn’t given any time to recover.

Anders kept moving, stroking in and out of her, sliding her back and forth on his cock, grinding against her clit. He sucked on her tongue as he worked to push her to another orgasm almost immediately. She tried not to tense up or pull away. She was still incredibly sensitive, her nerves still raw. She’d lost all control; Anders had taken over completely, continuing the intense pace when she was unable to.

He kissed along her jaw, nipping at her neck, caressing her jawline, and cupping her face making her feel cherished and desired, making her feel beautiful. “Once more love, I want you to cum on my cock once more and then I’m going to fill you.”

She gasped, shivers running down her spine, tingles tightening her nipples again and a stab of electric heat between her legs at his words. The images he painted in her mind as arousing as the feeling of him inside of her. Her body had become tight like a spring and now it snapped loose unwinding as her muscles squeezed Anders’ cock inside of her milking it, begging for him to cum inside of her. 

And he answered her body’s call, a growl tearing from his lips and his hands tightening on her. Her back arching as his cock twitched violently inside of her and he spilled deep within her. More than bliss, more than sheer pleasure, it was incredible, it was ecstasy. He pulled her tight against him, holding her almost in a crushing hug as he rode out the waves of his own orgasm.

He shuddered and kissed her neck, “I want you always like this,” he murmured in her ear. “Freshly fucked and full of my cum. Completely mine, inside and out.” He kissed her again, a soft slow press of his lips and an easy, gentle perusal of her mouth, her tongue. The urgency bleeding away as the tide of his orgasm ebbed.

Her own shock filled pleasure was slower in passing and she was glad to have him to lean on as she recovered. She lay against him contented as he kissed her hair and stroked her back. Seeming to just relish the vaunted afterglow she’d heard so much about but never understood until meeting Anders. It was a feeling she craved more and more the longer she was with Anders, to feel warm and satiated and completely relaxed, to feel happy and secure in his embrace. It was almost better than the life altering sex that led to it.

They stayed, curled up together and contented for a long time until the water started to feel too cool. Anders quickly warmed it with a touch but sighed and shifted beneath her. “We should probably at least try to get cleaned up now.” 

Now that they were both satiated the fatigue swept over her. Her entire body was exhausted, and Anders was right, they were both still fairly filthy. She stretched and climbed off him, smiling at his groan of disappointment as he slid out of her.

They cleaned each other gently, and efficiently, not looking to arouse, just wanting to get the job done. Anders wrapped a towel around himself and then grabbed another one to dry her off. He was extra careful with her hair and pulled her in for a kiss when he was finished.

She melted into the kiss still feeling relaxed and languid; Anders’ sweet sharp flavor filled her mouth. “You taste good,” she murmured contentedly and sleepily when he broke the kiss.

He grinned, “You’re not half bad yourself. Come on, let’s get you into bed, you look like you’re about ready to fall asleep on your feet.”

He was right; she couldn’t believe how exhausted she suddenly felt. She followed him into their room and slipped into bed beside him. He tucked his arm around her and pulled her close against his body. She snuggled back against him, loving the feel of him behind her, surrounding her. She drifted off to sleep in moments.

********

Anders woke hours later feeling contented and relaxed. Sekhmet was asleep, on her side, one hand clutching onto his arm. He couldn’t help but smile to find her still in his arms. He curled around her, treasuring how wonderful it felt to have her tiny body nestled against him. Anders was quickly becoming addicted to the softer pleasures of being in an actual relationship instead of just taking a lover. Sleeping with another person, although he had experienced it a time or two, was not a pleasure he’d really explored.

And now he couldn’t get enough of it. He’d slept better in the days since he’d been with Sekhmet than he had in years. He could satiate his body with her enough to quiet his mind, and holding her filled him with an immense pleasure and satisfaction that relaxed him and silenced Justice letting him sleep, really and truly sleep.

It made him quake inside knowing he did the same for her, that he made her feel as content, happy, treasured and safe as she made him feel. That she managed to find a peace in his arms she wasn’t able to find on her own. Perhaps it shouldn’t be such a big deal, such an amazing thing, but for a mage safe and happy were rare in and of themselves, let alone together. And the idea that he could ever make someone happy, make them feel safe, he didn’t even know such a thing was possible. Was it ridiculous that it made him feel a bit more human, a bit more like a man that he was capable of inspiring such feeling?

  


He laid there, watching her sleep, stroking his fingers down her side when a wicked idea took flight. He stroked his fingers around her nipple feeling his pulse speed up when her nipple tightened even in sleep. He traced his long fingers over her soft velvety flesh teasing her skin but not touching her sensitive nub.

He shifted and gently rolled her onto her back so he could play with both of her beautiful pale tits. Her nipples both became hard, and her head rolled a little, a soft moan slipping from her lips. He bent his head to nip and kiss the soft flesh, licking up to and all around her tight beaded nipple. 

“Anders?” her voice was soft and slightly dazed sounding.

“Hello darling.” He murmured before biting her tit softly, squeezing them both with his hands. He loved how the soft flesh gave against the insistent pressure of his teeth. He bit down a little harder, wondering how hard he could bite the delicate skin before she protested.

She squirmed under his ministrations and was starting to wake up more fully. He pushed some light magic through his hands hazing her mind over with pleasure; he wanted her feeling not thinking. He swirled his tongue over her soft skin, humming in delight at her taste.

“You have the most delicious little body.” He shifted his body and pushed his thigh between her legs. “And you smell divine.” He pushed more soft magic into her, concentrating on having it swirl over the nerves right around her nipples. They puckered even tighter and turned darker in response to the additional stimulation.

She squirmed, trying to grind down on his knee but he made sure to hold it back far enough that she could find no stimulation. “Anders,” she whined softly.

He chuckled, “What’s the matter, love? Do these gorgeous little nipples of yours ache again?” He’d been so careful the night before, even when she’d been riding him not to touch those beautiful nipples, to leave them unsatisfied. And he now wondered if it was why they’d reacted to his teasing so quickly.

“Yes, please Anders, touch them, please.” She grabbed onto his shoulders and tried to pull him forward, closer to her.

He took her hands and pinned them over her head with one hand smiling as she arched her back and tried to rub herself against his chest. He continued to tease her with his lips and tongue and slipped his other hand down between her legs. He used his index finger and his ring finger to spread the lips of her sex wide, enjoying her sharp inhalation of breath.

He circled her clit with his middle finger, feeling her writhe under him, desperate for him to give her some sort of relief. But he was enjoying his wicked little game and he had every intention of leaving her hot and aching and unfulfilled just like he’d threatened to earlier. He traced his finger around her opening making sure not to slip inside, he wanted her to have nothing but want and need, not even the tiniest satisfaction.

Her hips pushed up, trying to get his finger inside of her and then rocking them back and forth trying to get him to touch her swollen clit. Her sex dripping from her arousal and the skin was incredibly hot. He couldn’t help but grin when she tried to pull free of his grip pouting.

“Dammit Anders, let me go.” She growled, frustrated desire sharpening her tongue.

He let her go and moved away from her, “Okay.”

She watched him slide out of the bed incredulously. “What are you doing?”

“Letting you go and getting up.” He stretched and yawned, marking the hungry look she raked over his naked body, gaze lingering on his erection. Oh yes, he was affected too, did she doubt it? “Did you have plans today? I could use your help in the clinic, if not.”

She sat up, just staring at him blankly for long moments before letting out a long sigh. “No, I didn’t have any plans.”

He pulled her from the bed, holding her in front of him, rubbing his cock against the bare flesh of her back. He moved her hair, inhaling her intoxicating scent before placing a kiss on her neck. “Good, then get dressed, no breast band, no smalls, and wear a skirt. I want unfettered access to your body today.”

She trembled against him, a small gasp from her lips. 

“Careful or I might think you like the idea.” He certainly did. Had she felt his cock throb against her with the thought of their illicit play?

He let her go and stepped away from her so she could get dressed. He’d been about to get his dirty clothes from the bathing chamber when something odd caught his eye. “What the fuck?” He strode across the room to a chest sitting on the floor. A chest with a Grey Warden insignia on it, a chest he knew very well.

“Sekhmet, how the fuck did this get here?” He opened it, confirming it was his chest, filled with his things. “Did you send someone to get my stuff? Didn’t you trust me?”

“I don’t know how this got here.”

He wanted to yell at her, he felt oddly betrayed, but from the look on her face he knew she was telling the truth. The fact remained that someone had broken into his clinic, his sanctuary, and rifled through his things to get them here and he wanted to know who. “Get dressed, quickly.” He reached for a pair of trousers before looking back to her, “And I meant what I said, put on anything else and I’ll rip it off you. Got it?”

She licked her lips and nodded. He dragged on clothes quickly, pulling his boots on and lacing them tight, before fetching his dirty clothes from the bathing chamber. He set them on top of his chest and thought about what he should do now. He’d told her he was going to move in once they were finished helping the Viscount, and they were done. The idea that someone had taken the choice away from him, had moved him without his permission ate at him though. 

Sekhmet smoothed her hands over tunic and caught his eye, “Put them in the basket over there. Orana will wash them later.”

“I can wash my own damned clothes.”

She nodded, “So can I, but it makes Orana feel needed. She’s very insecure about things like this.” She walked to him and skated her hand down his arm. “If you’re going to live here you’re going to have to get used to the idea of Orana doing things like this for you.”

Perhaps, but he had other things on his mind right now, like the green flowing skirt she was wearing that only just grazed her knees, leaving her pretty legs bare. He pulled her closer and ran his hand up her inner thigh, lightly brushing his fingers across her naked sex underneath. “I like the skirt.” 

He removed his hand and cupped one of her tits through her tunic, nearly grazing his thumb across her nipple. “But the tunic is too heavy. Wear something thinner, something I can really appreciate these nipples standing out hard and erect in.”

She slipped out of the tunic quickly, heading to her wardrobe to find something more appropriate, more to his liking. Oh, he was enjoying this game and it distracted him from his anger over having his things moved. She picked a cream colored tunic, as light as air. When she slid it on he smiled, her nipples did indeed poke nicely through the fabric. Not only that, but the fabric was thin enough that he was able to see a hint of how dark her precious little buds were.

He smiled, reaching out to cup one tit and quickly swiping this thumb directly over her nipple. “Very nice, love,” her slight tremble at the touch was beautiful.

They went downstairs and found the house deserted. Anders thought it strange but Sekhmet said it was likely Leandra had taken everyone to the market with her. Anders decided to seize the opportunity to play with Sekhmet a bit more.

  


He asked her to make them breakfast, pleased when she happily agreed. He slipped his hand under her skirt and teased her clit while she sliced bread for them to have toast. And when she began to grind the beans for coffee he couldn’t help sliding a couple of fingers inside of her and fingering her slowly. She didn’t speak, but she moaned softly and spread her legs a little farther apart. 

He kissed her, couldn’t help himself, his amazing Sekhmet, playing a filthy game with him. _“My Sekhmet, my heart, completely my equal, my perfect match.”_ He marveled at the intensity of the feeling the rolled through him and whispered the only words he could think of, though they paled compared to how he really felt. “I love you.”

She gave him a soft smile, “I know.” She moved and he slipped his hand away to let her go.

He stood behind her as she tended the fire, periodically touching her and teasing her, a hand up her skirt, another up inside her tunic, keeping her hot, keeping her teetering on the edge. She panted and moaned but never tried for more than he was giving her. She quietly let him torment her to his heart’s content. And the more she let him the harder he found it to resist her.

He’d wanted to tease her, keep her desperate but he was finding it harder and harder to fight himself. Instead of his fingers he wanted to fill her with his cock, press her up against one of the counters and fuck her in the middle of the kitchen. He tried to tell himself that the idea was ridiculous; Leandra and the rest of the household could be home at any moment. Unfortunately, the idea of getting caught turned him on more instead of cooling his growing ardor.

And the more she licked those damned purple painted lips the more he wanted to feel them wrapped around the base of his cock, wanted to bury himself in her throat. He let her go and walked away, taking shaky breaths and struggling to calm his galloping heart. Anders was a pervert with a filthy mind and deep twisted desires, but he’d already decided he’d never do that, never expect her on her knees in front of him servicing him with her mouth.

He stayed near the door, watching her, burning for her, but far enough away where he wouldn’t tempt either of them again. When she was finished they moved to eat at the small table at the far end of the kitchen, seeing no point in moving to the formal dining room. He pulled her onto his lap, sliding his hand up her skirt to toy were her amazingly still swollen clit while they ate.

He circled and teased her pushing her right to the edge of orgasm before removing his hand to slather butter on a piece of toast, eating it slowly to let her calm down. He traced slow lazy circles around one of her nipples while he drank his coffee, smiling to himself as she squirmed trying to get him to touch the poor thing even for a moment.

His cock felt like it was going to burst; he was enjoying exerting control over her body far too much. He wasn’t sure which of them was suffering more and that was kind of the beauty of the whole thing. He set down the coffee mug and moved his other hand to toy with her clit some more. He flicked his finger lightly back and forth over it feeling her twitch and shake each time. 

Shifting her on his lap he quickly massaged her clit in circles, pushing her right to edge of orgasm. Her body was tight as a bow on his lap, trembling on the edge of release. When he took his hand away again she whimpered, then tried to close her legs, obviously hoping for some friction to aid in her release. He gently held her legs apart as she shook and a sigh of disappointment left her lips.

He waited until he was sure she’d slid back from the edge and then did it again. She was so wet, so hot, it was breathtaking. She’d stopped eating, her hand clutching onto his forearm as she tried to ride out his teasing, her breathing ragged and she was biting her bottom lip in the most adorable way.

He pushed one finger slowly into her sex and felt her clench tight around him. “Relax for me,” he whispered, delighted when she did. He swirled his finger inside of her feeling the slightly raised area under her pelvic bone. He rubbed it feather light at first, enjoying her sharp inhalation. “Like that?”

She nodded so he did it again, a little harder this time. This time he got a long moan from her. She was so responsive, his little lioness, so wonderfully wicked under his fingers.

“Are you done eating?” He asked gently as he slid his finger from her.

She nodded, perhaps not trusting herself to speak.

“Clear the table then, please?” He wanted to order her, but it felt odd and wrong to order her to do something so mundane. He almost laughed at himself. Apparently, he was fine giving her orders when it came to sex and his own depravity, but domesticated tasks were going too far.

He watched her as she cleared the table, savoring the heavy scent of her arousal each time she came near. And when she finished he picked her up and set her on the table where she’d just cleared it. He laid her on her back and picked her feet up to rest on the table.

He ran his hands up her legs, his mouth already watering at the thought of tasting her. “Pull up your skirt and spread your legs, Sekhmet.”

Her skin flushed that exquisite rose color, but she did as he asked, raising her skirt to her waist before spreading her legs wide. He was shocked and painfully aroused by what he saw. The entirety of her inner thighs was slick with her arousal and her sex was a deep red color. And her clit, it was perhaps the most astounding thing of all, swollen as big as a berry and dark. Its little hood couldn’t hide the poor tormented skin and it was beautiful.

He couldn’t help himself, he touched it, marveling at how hot it was. He settled the tip of his index finger on her clit, massaging it quickly in little circles, watching her thighs shake and the opening of her sex open and close looking for something to fill it. He matched her muscles clench as her orgasm snuck up and right as she was about to crest he pulled away again, holding her legs open. 

Her hips thrust at the air and she actually whined at him, “Please, Anders, you’re killing me.”

He chuckled, “I’m sure no one’s ever died from not being allowed to cum.” He stroked his fingers over her slick thigh and licked her juices from his finger, “Besides, the day’s just started.” He leaned over her and kissed her nose, “It’s going to be hours and hours and hours before you get to cum, sweetheart.”

Her jaw dropped and she shook her head in disbelief, “You can’t really mean to…to…”

He settled back down into the chair and leaned forward to lick her thighs clean. “That’s exactly what I mean to do.”

********

After their little play session in the kitchen when she realized he had no intention of relenting and letting her cum she was much more reluctant to accompany him to the clinic. It took a little bit but eventually she agreed, following him silently down the basement steps. The clinic was slow, affording him plenty of opportunities to tease his little lioness.

He was, however, extremely grateful to see patients come in. Most of them had minor ailments that Sekhmet could take care of while he slipped off to his room and stroked himself to another desperately needed orgasm. The first time he’d done it she’d immediately known what he’d done and had been furious with him.

When he pointed out that she could stop their little game at any time, he wasn’t using anything to force her to play she’d fallen silent and blushed deeply. Was his poor darling just realizing she liked their little game? If she’d asked to stop, he would have. If she’d touched herself he wouldn’t have stopped her. And if she’d demanded he make her cum he would have, gladly. 

As it was he’d almost called the whole game off himself several times when she’d nearly sobbed in frustration when he’d left her teetering on the edge of orgasm. He’d had to heal her poor little clit a couple of times as well; all his teasing had left it sore and chafed. And when she’d begged him to touch her nipples, even if it was to hurt them he almost hadn’t been able to pass up the invitation.

When he’d doused the lamps he returned to the clinic to find Sekhmet seated on his work bench, skirt around her waist, feet pulled up and thighs spread, her red and sopping sex on full display. She looked dirty, she looked filthy and raunchy and bloody gorgeous.

He was sure he looked like a dirty old lecher, standing there, staring at her wanton display. “Someone’s eager for their orgasm, aren’t they?”

She flushed again, she’d been doing it all day and it was still adorable. She bit her lip and shook her head. “Tease me again, Anders.”

His whole world tilted, passively accepting his torments all day was one thing. But here she was actually asking for it. Sweet Maker, she was going to make his damned heart give out. “Sekhmet, are you sure that’s what you want?” He’d been planning on waiting to make her cum until they were back in the estate, but he’d figured he’d tormented the poor girl enough.

She nodded, “I don’t want to…to cum until we go to bed, but I want you to touch me again.”

He sighed and came closer to her, “I can touch you without doing that, love.” He kissed her softly, “There are so many ways I can touch you without…without torturing you.” He felt suddenly sick to his stomach to say the word but it was true, it’s what he’d been doing to her all day.

She laughed suddenly, a beautiful and bright sound. “I know that, of course I know that. But…I know I’m probably strange, but I like it.”

Her cupped both sides of her face and kissed her forehead. “You are so bloody perfect, Sekhmet.” He kissed her, insistently pushing his tongue into her mouth, demanding her lips part for him. And that divine essence swept through him, winds and rain and crashing waves, flashes of lightning and heat, so much incredible heat. 

Her spirit was a whipping, roaring summer storm, the perfect companion to the anger and rage that swirled inside of him. The tempest the fade spirit inside of him caged. And she was his, utterly and completely. 

He pushed two fingers into her, more than he’d used all day and pumped them in and out of her quickly while using his thumb to caresses her desperately over worked clit. He worked her hard and fast, pushing her relentlessly towards a towering peak he’d never let her reach. It barely took a few minutes before she was teetering on the edge. 

He took away his hand and stroked her back soothingly as he continued to kiss her. And when she began to calm he did it again, three fingers instead of two. Thumb circling and teasing while he sucked on her tongue and caressed her beautiful face.

She clutched at him desperately as he brought her right to edge of cumming again and then stopped touching her sex yet again. She didn’t try to close her legs though and she didn’t move seeking out his touch either. She just let Anders have his way.

He stepped back and watched her, her eyes were wide and dark, her lips were swollen from his kisses and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out over her body. He gently caressed her sex with his finger, “When I make you cum for the first time tonight, how do you want to cum…on my cock or on my tongue?”

She shivered and her sex spasmed, it was a beautiful sight. She took a shaky breath, “Your tongue.”

He slipped a single finger into her, stroking it in and out slowly, loving the wet slide of it. “You didn’t even have to think about it. Have you been fantasizing about that all day?”

She gave him a devilish smile and nodded. 

He brought her to the edge of orgasm again and whispered in her ear, “I’ll make it good, I promise.”

Her short nails dug into his shoulders as she rode out another near orgasm and spoke through gritted teeth, “You better.”

********

They’d both wolfed down dinner quickly, and though Anders wanted to ask Leandra about his things he wanted to get Sekhmet upstairs even more. Leandra watched them with a knowing smirk and merely nodded when Sekhmet excused them. If he was any sort of a gentleman he’d been at least a little embarrassed about being so obvious about wanting to head to Sekhmet’s bedroom. But, he’d proved far and away today, there wasn’t a gentlemanly bone in his body. Fitting, he supposed, he was a bastard after all.

He locked the door behind him and quickly spelled the room, chances were, this was going to get a bit noisy. The raw hunger in Sekhmet’s eyes nearly undid him. Maker, she was utterly breathtaking. 

He suddenly wanted to prostrate himself at her feet, thank her for ever deigning to even look upon him, let alone love him. He was so not worthy of her, or of her love. Look at all he had put her through today. 

He moved and knelt before her, taking her hands into his own, kissing them gently. “What would you have of me, my love?”

She was quiet for several moments, just watching him before she spoke. “Your hair, put it down.”

He quickly removed the leather thong and let his long golden hair fall about his shoulders. She ran her fingers through it and Anders felt like purring. He loved when she played with his hair. Each time she touched it he was glad he hadn’t let Justice berate him into chopping it off again.

She stopped touching his hair, “Take off your tunic for me, Anders.”

He quickly pulled it off, tossing it into the chair by the fire. She moved behind him, sliding his hair over his shoulder and kissed the back of his neck. Her fingers glided over his skin, tracing over the outline of the enormous tree tattooed across his back. It was her favorite, he knew and she touched it, stroking the inked skin, often.

He wasn’t sure what she was doing, how she was suddenly being so patient. He knew she was still aroused, he could smell her, Andraste’s tits, could he smell her. She seemed to not have a care in the world though as she touched him. 

Her hands glided over his shoulders and she traced the griffon on his chest, dropping another soft kiss to the back of his neck. He was starting to feel a little unnerved at her silence. He’d been in control all day, tonight was for her, anything she wanted. So he stayed still, letting her caress his skin. 

Her callused fingers traced over each of his visible tattoos as she moved slowly around him. And when she got to the dragon on his lower abdomen she ran her fingers over the waist of his trousers. “Show me the rest of you.”

He shifted and immediately removed his boots before standing quickly and removing his trousers and smalls. And though she didn’t ask for it he knelt before her again. Even on his knees he was nearly as tall as she was. She crouched beside him, tracing her fingers over the geometric pattern than ran up his thigh and over his hip.

And then she returned to the dragon, nonchalantly moving his erection out of the way to trace over it. His stomach muscles clenched, and his cock twitched at being touched. He desperately wanted to thrust into her hand, or at least get her to grip him more firmly but he managed to stay still.

She smirked at him and let him go. “I think maybe the dragon should have been on your tongue.”

Anders chuckled, amused that she seemed to appreciate his oral talents so much. His mouth was practically watering thinking about pushing her to orgasm with his tongue buried as deep into her as he could reach. He could almost taste the sweet and tart exotic fruit taste of her now, just thinking about it.

She took a step backwards, smirk still gracing those pretty purple painted lips of her. “Come earn your keep, mage.”

He was pretty sure he growled as he lunged forward, shoving her skirt up out of his way and swiping his always eager tongue along her wet sex. She giggled as his arms wrapped around her, holding her still so he could lick and suck on her sex until his heart’s content. Her taste was decadent, and juicy like a ripe peach.

And maddening, her taste was the only thing he ever wanted to taste again. She was perfection, her taste and the fantastic little noises she made. He was beside himself she was so wet, so much of her to taste, to savor, to swallow down. He sounded like a slavering beast as he feasted between her thighs, a greedy and hungry thing, moaning in delight. 

Her hands gripped his hair and he groaned, fuck yes, he wanted her to grind against his face, pull his head in close and smear her sex all over him. He swirled his tongue around her clit a few times before sliding it around her opening, and then he gave her what she really wanted, what he really wanted. He thrust his tongue up inside of her and began fucking her with it, in and out, swirling and twisting. Tickling and stroking that fabulous secret spot inside a woman that made her scream.

Her hands yanked hard at his hair and she came like an explosion. Her taste drenched his face and flowed down his throat like expensive honey. She cried out his name so loudly he was thankful for the silence spell. She clawed at him, gripping and pulling, her sex spasming around his still moving tongue squeezing him and trying to pull him deeper. 

And when her legs buckled he scooped her up and carried her to the bed, legs wrapped around his head, barely missing a beat. He lay down, and settled her to straddle his face, he wanted her to use him, use his face, his mouth, his tongue for her pleasure. His cock ached and his heart raced as she began to grind on his face, fucking herself on his dexterous tongue, rocking her clit back and forth on his long nose.

He kept his tongue moving, in and out and around, giving her what he knew she liked. It was only a few minutes before she came a second time, not as intense as the first but still hard enough it made her shriek. And for a brief moment he thought he might lose some hair to her pulling, not that he minded terribly. He held her still while he licked her clean again and then let her collapse onto the bed beside him. 

He wanted more of her intoxicating taste, only if she would let him though. He shifted over her, gently spreading her legs apart, “More? Please.”

She nodded and he went back to work, being much gentler than before. After two orgasms she was bound to be sensitive. Her next orgasm took him much longer to push her to, but when her back bowed and she ground his face against her it was still incredibly satisfying. He slowed the pace of his tongue so he wouldn’t aggravate her overly sensitive skin, but couldn’t stop himself from enjoying her taste until she finally pushed his face away.

“Aren’t you ever satisfied?” She teased him, already knowing the answer.

He kissed her inner thigh gently, “Never, I’d live on the taste of you if you’d let me.”

She smiled and ruffled his hair, “You’re so beautiful, Anders, but not very practical.”

He looked up, peeking from between her thighs with mock annoyance. “Did you just insinuate I was pretty and stupid, like I was some dumb farm boy for you to toy with?”

She smirked, “You’re much too pale to be a farm boy.”

He narrowed his gaze at her and mock glared.

She giggled, “Not to mention, far too old.”

“Oh, you little snot.”

She laughed, squirming away from him to sit against the head board, raising her knees but keeping her legs spread wide. “Come here.”

A flush ran across his skin like lightning. She wasn’t done playing yet, he nearly whispered a prayer he was so grateful. On all fours, eyes locked on hers, he crawled to her. He nuzzled his face up along her thigh, placed a soft kiss on her sex and then kissed and licked his way up to her lips.

He gripped the headboard and rubbed his cock against her stomach as he kissed her. He could feel himself leaving ropey pearls of his pre-cum across her abdomen, he was leaking like a faucet he was so turned on. She opened her mouth for him, letting him explore her, letting him share the taste of her sex with her.

She broke the kiss, “As much as I love kissing you, I want you to use that talented mouth of yours elsewhere.”

He wondered if he looked as eager as he felt. She was really going to let him back between her legs again? Usually, she’d had more than enough of his greedy mouth by now.

She giggled, “Sorry love, not there. You’ve left my nipples neglected all day. And now you’re going to make up for it.”

“With pleasure,” he murmured, only to happy to see if he could make her cum by playing with her sensitive tips. He immediately dropped his head only to have her stop him by gripping his hair.

“I want you to…” She flushed and looked away from him quickly.

“Anything, just say it love.” Was she catching on to how much he liked hearing her say dirty things to him? 

In the end she couldn’t say it. Instead, she took his hand and wrapped it around his cock, guiding it up and down its length with her own. It was more than enough, he got the picture. She wanted him to stroke his cock while he enjoyed her beautiful tits.

He leaned forward again, licking her nipple lightly, just a feather light touch. He was more than a little surprised by the loud moan it elicited. Apparently, her orgasms hadn’t done much to alleviate the need he’d been stirring in her wine colored nipples all day.

She kept her hand clasped loosely around his as he stroked himself. He liked her touch, liked the idea of jerking off for her. He twisted his body a little trying to make it easier for her to see him touching himself. He very much wanted to feel her eyes on him, watching him masturbating for her pleasure.

And he did away with the teasing little licks. He’d teased her enough for one day. He cupped her breast with his free hand and closed his mouth over the velvety flesh of her nipple sucking hard. 

Her nails dug into his hair, wrenching his neck back a little, though he was careful not to lose contact with her precious nipple. She howled, and her back bowed. And her sex was dampening again, he could smell it. 

He shifted again, dragging the head of his cock up between the wet folds of her sex. Still stroking himself, but also rubbing the sensitive head against her slick and swollen clit. She gyrated her hips, rubbing against him. He really wanted to let go and push inside of her, wanted to feel her wet walls gripping him. It was a struggle to restrain himself, but he managed.

He ran his tongue over her sensitive nipple while still sucking on it, and on a whim decided to try biting her again. He was gentle, ever so fucking gentle, but he scraped his teeth against her nipple, biting down gently before tugging.

“Yes, more, please more.” She cried.

He let her nipple slip from his mouth and turned his attention to the other. He went directly to biting it this time and was surprised when she screeched, pulling his hair and thrusting her chest more fully against his face. He pulled back, tugging harder on this nipple than he had the previous one and was completely taken aback when her body shuddered.

He’d barely touched her, barely touched those fantastically, wonderfully sensitive nipples and she was cumming. Andraste’s ass, if he kept her nipples aching and wanting all the time, like he had today, he might be able to get her to cum with a single bite. Wouldn’t that be something to see? Talk about dirty male fantasies. Last time he’d had to work her up to it, he hadn’t expected this at all. He’d hardly bitten her, more a soft press of his teeth than a bite and he’d gotten an amazing reaction.

She pulled his hand away from his cock and he took it as an invitation. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pushed into her. She was so incredibly hot; her sex was like an inferno. He slipped into her easily, her sex still dripping from her orgasm.

He thrust into her, the headboard clapping against the wall. He could have cared less, he was inside his little lioness, joined with her, one with her and it was the most incredible feeling in the world. He pinned her against the headboard, hips snapping fast.

It was a good thing he’d managed to make her cum so many times already because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for another one. She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed his throat and his jaw, murmuring words he couldn’t make out. He shouldn’t have waited so long, shouldn’t have teased them both for so long.

Even with relieving himself earlier at the clinic he was half mad with wanting her. And all the skill and finesse he usually used was gone. This was just a desperately hungry man driving wildly into the woman he loved looking for release, for salvation, for redemption.

He lost control of his magic, not slowly as he usually did, but all at once. Little sparks danced in the air around them, falling around them like sapphire snowflakes. They even swirled and eddied with the movement of their bodies. 

They landed on their skin, the ones on her looking like stunning jewels against the white of her skin. A surge of pleasure rushed through him, stronger than before, something new and unusual and intoxicating. Whatever it was it sparked a bolt of lightning. 

Nervous, he pulled back, tried to rein himself in. The surge of new found pleasure faded and the sapphire sparks winked out but he was ever so close to his orgasm so he kept going. He could keep control of himself, keep control of his magic and still find pleasure. He’d done it all his life.

Sekhmet squeezed him suddenly, gripping him tight with the muscles of her sex. She started working her hips up and down on him. Pushing him towards the orgasm he so desperately needed. Had she sensed him slipping back?

How could she not? The sparks had faded out. It was obvious something had happened. He concentrated on the feeling of her body in his arms, his cock deep inside of her being gripped tightly. And on the sensation of her lips and her teeth on his neck.

It was enough, and a moment later with a hoarse shout of his own he came inside her. It went on for a long time, feeling almost as if it would never end. He bowed his head to her shoulder, panting and shuddering as it passed through him. He stayed, holding her, still inside of her until it dissipated and until he started to get soft.

He could go again, always could thanks to his Warden stamina, but he’d had enough and he was sure she had as well. He slipped from inside of her and traced his fingers lightly over her sex, a little healing magic to keep her from getting sore or being chafed. She huffed in annoyance but didn’t say anything. 

She wasn’t overly fond of him healing the ache away, but he didn’t like the idea of her sore from lying with him. She was a tiny woman and he was a tall man. She didn’t seem to mind, but he knew he was a little too big for her and that whether she admitted it or not it was always a little uncomfortable for her. 

  


She stroked his cheek, “What happened? I lost you there for a moment.”

He shook his head, “Never.”

“Anders,” it was an admonishment, she didn’t quite believe him.

He shrugged a little, “I was distracted by the magic. It looked like your skin was covered in jewels. I thought about it too much, that’s all.”

She watched him for another long moment, but eventually seemed to accept his story. She disentangled herself and crossed the room to the ewer and started to clean herself up. He joined her before pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly and gently.

“I love you, Sekhmet.” He whispered, his heart welling up with emotion as it did each time he made love to her. It was an amazing thing, something he hadn’t really experienced with others. He’d enjoyed the warm and relaxed feeling before, of course. But not the outpouring of love and devotion he was always overwhelmed with after sex with her.

She smiled, a slow languid smile. “I love you too, Anders.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” He ran his long fingers through her hair, “I get to live another day, spared from a painful death by a broken heart.”

“Just from words, ser mage?” She was smirking a little.

He shook his head, “No, from the truth in your eyes.” He cupped her face, “Thank you for loving me, for believing for even one instant I was worthy of such a thing.” He felt tears prick his eyes and blinked them back. “You’ll never know what it means to me, what strength it gives me to know that you love me.” He kissed her lips softly, “You’ll never know what a comfort it is to know that I can come home to you. Thank you.”

She was staring at him, stunned. Her eyes searching his face her hands touching his arms, looking for something to say. He didn’t expect a response, wouldn’t know what to do if she gave him one. He just wanted her to know how much he appreciated her.

He kissed her again, just a soft press of lips. “Come back into bed. I’ll read to you for a while. I found a good book in the library yesterday.” He took her hand and pulled her gently towards the bed .

  


[Click here to return to Deviant Art](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-A-Lover-Like-This-397533662)


	45. Unsteady Ground

Anders awoke with the bed next to him empty. His heart racing in his chest with worry, he scanned the room and found her sitting in a chair facing the mostly dying embers of the night’s fire. She was naked, skin gloriously amber hued from the first licks of flame starting to stir to life on the newly laid pieces of wood. One foot pulled up onto the chair as she hugged it and stared into the fireplace. She looked pensive.

“Couldn’t sleep, my love?”

She started a little at the sound of his voice, and for some reason it made worry burrow into his gut. When she turned to look at him, though, it was with a soft smile, “I didn’t want to wake you.” Her eyes skimmed over his body and he watched as her cheeks flushed.

He should be pleased, shouldn’t he? She was obviously thinking about what lie under the sheet he was still covered with, but it just increased his uneasy feeling. “Is everything alright?” It wasn’t, he could feel it. Something was wrong.

A wry smile lifted the corner of her lips this time, “I’m just not very good at sleeping.”

A chronic insomniac himself he could relate. A glance out the window showed it wasn’t even close to dawn. Looking back to her he found her gaze on the fire again. Deciding he’d rather be with her he pushed himself out of the bed.

Her head whipped around at the sound of him moving, “Anders, what are you doing? Its hours before dawn.”

He settled cross legged on the floor at her feet, “Exactly, hours I can spend with you before the world intrudes again.” He leaned forward and kissed her knee before taking her foot and starting to rub it gently. 

She shifted, but didn’t pull away. Her eyes were wary as she watched him caressing her foot. Should he ask what had her awake or would she get upset at him for prying? He wanted to share everything with her, but sometimes Sekhmet liked to keep things to herself. For now, he kept his silence, massaging her foot and watching the growing firelight play over her skin and hair. 

Sekhmet mostly watched the fire, taking long slow breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. He recognized her breathing pattern; perhaps she was more upset than he thought. Everytime she looked at him though he saw the unmistakable spark of desire in her eyes. Underneath it was a thread of unease, so he made no attempt to kindle that spark into anything.

He finished with her foot, kissing her instep gently. She stiffened and Anders felt his worry form into a hard stone, now he needed to know. “Sekhmet, what’s wrong love?”

Her cheeks flamed red, “Nothing.”

He rose up to his knees and moved close to look into her eyes. “Please, don’t lie to me.” She tried to look away from him but he gently cupped her chin, “Talk to me love. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I’ve done.” He had an inkling what it might be, but hoped he was wrong. He didn’t like the idea of having pushed her into something she didn’t want to do.

She shrugged, eyes darting away, “It’s alright, really.”

“Clearly, it’s not.” He stroked her cheek, _“Please, tell me what it is. I can fix this, I know I can. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”_ His thoughts turned desperate as fear of losing her clawed at him.

“I…” She shivered and tried to pull away again and again he held her steady. “What we…what we did yesterday. I don’t want to do that again.”

He’d been right, he’d pushed her too much, shown her too much of his depraved desires and had scared her off. “I’m so sorry, love.” He whispered, ashamed and horrified by what he’d done.

She scowled, “No, don’t apologize. I…I’m not sure I could do it again.”

“Of course, never again, I promise.” It was a quick and deadly serious vow. He’d be a perfect gentleman for her from now on, soft and sweet and gentle. He’d been the one she’d invited to her bed. He’d been the one she’d somehow, miraculously, fallen in love with. So, it was up to him to be the prince she deserved.

She paused, her brow furrowing more. “Anders, you didn’t do anything wrong. I liked what we did; I’m just not sure I could do it again.”

He just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She was trying to make him feel better, again. She wasn’t the first woman disgusted by his twisted desires. But, she’d be the last. He’d make it up to her; he’d be the sweetest and most tender lover she’d ever had. And maybe, just maybe she’d decide not to end things between them.

She slid out of the chair and into his lap, wrapping her pale legs around his waist and circling her arms around his neck. “I mean it Anders, I liked it.” She leaned forward and kissed him.

He hesitated for a moment, readjusting his approach to kissing her. No longer would he suffocate her with his hungry, needy kisses. He kept it slow and sweet, languid even. 

She broke the kiss to kiss his neck, pulling herself tighter against him. “Make love to me again, Anders?”

He hummed in pleasure; at least she was willing to let him try again “Of course, my lady.” He stood with her still clinging to him and walked to the bed, placing her gently on the mattress before climbing in himself. His fingers and his lips trailed over her skin softly, gently, bringing her to peak before he made love to her, tenderly.

And when they were done he folded her against his chest to hold her, to encircle her protectively. He may not be able to stop her from running headlong into danger every day, but he could protect her here, he could protect her from himself. He inhaled the scent of her hair, _“I’ll become the man you deserve, love, I swear it.”_

He was pleased when she fell back to sleep, cuddled against him. Listening to her soft breaths even managed to lull him back to sleep eventually. And he was so pleasantly awoken by gentle kisses later, when the sun finally graced the sky.

He smiled around the light presses of her lips, “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” she slid off the bed and crossed to open the curtains wide, letting sunlight pour across the room. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes and missed her crossing back to the bed. She pulled the blankets off him then just stood at the end of the bed with the most ridiculous smile on her lips.

He quirked his lips, amused. “See something you like, love?”

Her smile widened, “Every inch,” it was a soft sigh on her lips.

He felt his body responding to her approval. He watched her as she walked closer, moving up the side of the bed until she was standing beside him. With a smile still on her lips she reached out pulled his hair gently from under his hand fanning it out around him.

“I was right.” She breathed, sounding oddly awed.

“Right?” Seemed his love was in an interesting mood today.

She nodded, “You look like some sort of glorious sun god, calling forth the morning.”

He laughed a deep, hearty laugh. “A sun god? I think lack of sleep has muddled your mind. I spend most of my time in the sewers, in case you’ve forgotten.”

She giggled, “I know where you spend your time, darling. I still think you look like a sun god, but even gods have work to do. So get that sexy little ass of yours up.” She turned to head for her desk. “There’s tea on the table beside you. I have some correspondence I have to deal with and a couple other things this morning, not to mention I need to take another bath. I still reek of sex. I’ll see you when I’m done?”

He stretched, “Of course.”

********

Dressed, hair brushed and looking presentable finally he headed downstairs. He was headed to the kitchen to see what he could snag for breakfast when he heard Leandra humming in the library. Now was as good a time as any to talk to her about his chest mysteriously showing up in Sekhmet’s bedroom.

“Good morning, Leandra.” He decided for calm, instead of his first reaction which had been anger.

She paused; fitting a ribbon into the book she was reading and closing it carefully before turning her attention to him. Her smile was hesitant and he supposed that was confession enough wasn’t it? Why else would she be wary of speaking with him?

“Good morning, Anders. You’re looking well this morning.”

He settled himself down in the chair opposite her, “I wanted to ask you about something odd in Sekhmet’s room.”

She straightened up a little bit, sitting taller, an air of nobility settling over her. “And what might that be?”

“Did you send someone to break into my clinic and fetch my things?” He stayed calm and worked hard to keep as much disdainful accusation out of his voice as possible. He liked Leandra, he hoped they could deal with this without it erupting into an argument.

She flashed him a devious little smile. “Of course not, don’t be absurd.”

The remnants of his anger threatened to flare back to life. “Then how did they end up in Sekhmet’s room?”

Her smile widened a little more, “I was under the impression that the room now belonged to the two of you?”

Was she seriously trying to steer the conversation away from the issue at hand? “That’s not really the point. How did my things get here, Leandra?”

She scowled at him, “Don’t use that lecturing tone with me, Anders.”

He sighed, reminding himself he wasn’t going to fight with her. He nodded faintly, “I apologize for the tone, but the question remains.”

“Bodahn and I fetched your things for you. We know how busy you and Sekhmet have been lately and we wanted to help.” It was said innocently enough, but from the look on her face she had known he would be upset.

And it wasn’t just that she had fetched his belongings without his consent. It was worse than that. “Are you crazy? You can’t go traipsing about Darktown, you could have been killed.” Sekhmet would have killed him slowly and painfully if Leandra had died in an attempt to bring his belongings to the estate.

She snorted, “I’ve been defending myself and this family for a great many years, Anders. And Bodahn travelled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. We are both more than capable of looking after ourselves while we bring a few things up through the basement.”

He’d forgotten about the basement entrance to be completely honest. And though it wasn’t as dangerous as walking through Darktown, it didn’t change the fact that the clinic was still in Darktown and they still could have been hurt or worse. “You couldn’t have waited for me to bring my things up myself?” His tone was sharp and reproving, she’d put herself into danger for no real reason.

Her eyes turned hard and her posture became rigid when she spoke. “I am not my daughter. I will not be patient and forgiving while you try to stay away from her under some false sense of duty.” She inched forward in the seat, pinning him with a glare. “Give her everything or leave Kirkwall altogether and let her grieve and try to move on.” 

He hadn’t been expecting such a volatile reaction from her. Especially, not considering how warm and welcoming she’d been to him since he and Sekhmet had started their odd little relationship. “Leandra, all I was asking for was a little patience.” 

She stood, crossing the room to stand over where he was seated. “No, you were asking to hurt her.” Her voice was like ice, a cold cascade of fury. “How long, Anders? When do you think would be a ‘safer’ time?” She was truly on a tirade now. “It doesn’t exist and you well know it. You’re more than happy to enjoy the benefits of the estate: availing yourself of the books we have, indulging in the food Orana prepares, benefiting from the safety these walls and her money provides. ” She gestured at him with a sneer as she continued, “And you’re clearly enjoying the comfort of Sekhmet’s bed. I understand it’s difficult for you to marry her, especially in Kirkwall, but I’ll be damned if I let you make my daughter your whore.” With that she stormed out of the room.

Anders sat there stunned, unable to even speak. Nausea pooled low in his gut. His whore? Was that really what his refusal to move in looked like? That he was using Sekhmet? After a bit of thought he supposed it might. And was it really any surprise? Using people, fucking them and fucking them over were what he was good at. It was how he’d survived for most of his life.

He closed his eyes and took a long shuddering breath. He wasn’t that man anymore though, couldn’t be that man anymore. He loved Sekhmet and he’d give her everything, every bit of him that he could for as long as she wanted him. 

Pushing out of the chair he left the library and jogged up the steps two at a time. He slipped into Sekhmet’s room…their room, and saw she must still be in the bath. He wanted to see her though, wanted to make sure she understood that he loved her, it seemed so very important now. Thankfully, the door to the bathing chamber was unlocked so he went in.

She jerked her head up to look at him, hand skating over her pale skin with a wet washing cloth, and a smile curving her dark lips. It was such a small thing, a simple smile melting him inside. And her voice was soft, when she spoke to him. “Can I help you, love?”

He smiled back at her, stepping out of his slippers as a mad idea struck him. “No, I’m beyond help.” He moved to the tub and lowered himself inside, feeling the warm water soak through his clothes as he straddled her legs, splashing water over the sides. “I’m hopelessly, helplessly in love with you.”

She was giggling at him, clearly amused by his insane antics. But, she turned her head away when he tried to kiss her. “Anders, your clothes.”

And how lost was he? It actually hurt when she turned away, denied him the pleasure of her soft lips, even if she was merely teasing him. “Who cares? Kiss me already, you heartless woman.”

She giggled again but let him kiss her this time. He kissed her long and slow and sweet. Was it possible to make her understand how he felt with a single kiss? He doubted it, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He moved and cupped her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, pouring his heart out to her in a language he was far more eloquent with.

“What’s gotten into you?” She asked breathlessly when he finally broke his kiss.

He simply smiled, what could he possibly say? He’d just needed her. Needed to reassure himself that she knew he loved her, was absolutely crazy about her, couldn’t imagine his life without her in it now. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

A new fit of giggles as she kissed the tip of his long nose. “For that you had to crawl into the tub completely dressed?”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed in retrospect that he had done something so silly and impulsive. “When I saw you I couldn’t help myself. I decided to show you instead. Did it work?”

Another soft smile, but it was sweet, adoring. “You’re a complete loon, do you know that?”

“Yes,” he did, but he didn’t care as long as she stayed at his side, “but you still love me, don’t you?”

She gave a dramatic sigh, “Yes, I do…quite rather a lot, actually.”

He kissed her again, savoring the feeling of her lips against his, the taste of her mouth, the softness and smallness that was her. He pulled back with a grin, “Good, now that we’ve established that, I’ll get out of here and let you finish your bath.”

She was still smiling, that adoring gaze fixed on him. “I was actually getting ready to get out.”

That look made him feel ten feet tall and invincible, made him feel like a king among men. That look made him suddenly understand the impossible things, both great and horrific that men were willing to do for a woman they loved. And for a brief moment he wondered whether he and Sekhmet would build a new world, or just burn this one to the ground together.

He shook his head, dislodging the disturbing thought and climbed out of the tub dripping everywhere. He snagged a towel and started to dry off. “I’m going down to the clinic. I have a few more things I want to bring back here tonight, but I should open the clinic today. Want to join me?” He tried not to put too much hope into his voice.

She stood and climbed out as well, “I’ll come by later. I want to check in on a few things today. But first, you’re going to help me clean up some of this water.”

He stripped off his wet clothes; they’d only make their job more difficult. “Happily.”

It took them way longer to clean the floor than it should have. They were both distracted, touching each other and kissing. Not to arouse or tease but just enjoying some light physical affection.

By the time they finished his skin was chilled and he was looking forward to putting some warm, dry clothes on. Sekhmet quickly grabbed some clothes from her wardrobe and stood, warming herself in front of the fire while she pulled them on. He took out his other set and tugged them on quickly while watching her.

He settled down into the oversized chair in front of the fire and motioned for her to join him when she finished. She happily did, climbing into his lap, tucking her cold, socked feet under his leg while she curled up against his chest. He pulled her close, rubbing his hands up and down her arms briskly to warm her. “Sweetheart, I can feel how cold you are through your tunic. Why didn’t you get dressed sooner?” 

She kissed his cheek, “I was having fun, besides, this is a great excuse to cuddle with you some more.”

He shook his head and smiled at her, “You don’t need an excuse to cuddle me, love. I’m always more than happy to hold you.”

She snuggled against him and pulled his arms tight around her. “Good.”

They sat there for a while, cuddling and enjoying the warmth and talking. He loved talking with Sekhmet, especially when they were alone. When it was just the two of them she relaxed, not playing a role but just being herself. He liked how animated she always was when she talked about something that was of particular interest to her. 

And when she shifted on his lap, eyes alight and started speaking again, he knew it was something important. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about some information about Kirkwall I’ve found on these scraps of…I don’t know…almost like a diary. Been finding them scattered around the city since I got here. I’ve been doing some research; I wanted to know if the author was just mad before I talked to you about…”

Bodahn’s voice interrupted through the door. “Mistress Hawke, the elf is here with another message.”

He wasn’t sure which to react to first, that they obviously weren’t going to talk about whatever it was she’d uncovered, or that Fenris was down stairs. He curbed his desire to demand Sekhmet throw Fenris out of the estate. And managed to stifle some of his disappointment at having his alone time with her interrupted.

********

Sekhmet’s stomach clenched. She’d hoped to have a few more hours of peace with Anders before dealing with Fenris and the messages. And she was finally going to ask him what he thought about the possibility of glyphs being built right into the structure of the city. Now, that would have to wait. 

Anders didn’t say a word but his jaw was set hard and his back had stiffened. He was clearly furious. The man’s ego was a prickly and fragile thing. She needed the message though and couldn’t just send Fenris away.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” She called back.

“I take it by ‘the elf’ he means Fenris?” Each word was as sharp and prickly as a dart.

She nodded.

“So, what kind of message does he have for you?” His eyes were so intense.

It was now or never. She wasn’t going to lie to Anders. She just hoped he understood that she couldn’t ask her informant to put himself into more jeopardy than he already was. “I…uh…have an informant within the Gallows. Fenris runs messages back and forth for me.”

He shifted underneath her, “Isn’t he a bit conspicuous?”

She shrugged, Fenris’ lyrium tattoos had actually been a blessing. “The Templars like him and are fascinated by his markings. He has a regular card game with them.”

Anders words were clipped, anger in every syllable. “So he’s fraternizing with the Templars? Isn’t that dangerous for you and I, not to mention Merrill?”

Carefully, she tried to soothe him. “You don’t need to worry about him giving information to the Templars, Anders, I promise.”

He shook his head, teeth flashing, “I can’t believe you trust that beast.”

She was tired of this fight between him and Fenris. She eased herself off Anders’ lap without another word. She wasn’t going to sit there and argue with him. He and Fenris hated each other so much they were both painfully, willfully blind to how much alike they really were. She jogged down the steps and found Fenris squatting to pet Tyr.

He stood when he saw her, one of his rare smiles lighting his face. “Hawke, glad to see you well, my friend.”

Tension eased from her and she smiled, “You look good too. Tired, but good.” At least he was in good mood.

Another quick smile and gone again in a blink. “Isabela invited herself to cards last night.”

She nearly laughed at the idea, “That must have been interesting.” She couldn’t imagine what a card game with Izzy and the Templars would look like.

He nodded, “Very.” He handed her a sealed message. “He says Meredith has a bee in her bonnet about some rogue Templar, but nothing urgent.”

She took the message; she’d look at it later. “Yeah, I know about the Templar, he was torturing Qunari. It’s been dealt with.”

He nodded and fell quiet for a moment. Normally, she’d invite him in for a bite to eat and some tea but wasn’t sure it was a good idea with Anders upstairs. She was just thankful Anders was staying out of sight for now and letting her deal with this in her own way.

Fenris shifted from foot to foot, looking decidedly uncomfortable suddenly. “There was something else I wanted to speak to you about.” When he spoke his voice was quiet and hesitant.

There was no way this could be a good thing. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“Its Anders…” he started.

Anders’ laughter trailed down from the mezzanine cutting Fenris off. “Me? Oh, this should be good. Carry on, I want to hear this.”

Of course Anders would choose that moment to come out of the room. And he looked so damn smug she could slap him. At least he was staying at the top of the stairs. Fenris looked nearly apoplectic. She was sure if Anders even tried to come down the stairs Fenris would launch himself straight at her darling mage.

“What is the abomination doing here?” He was glaring at her now with accusatory eyes. Then his eyes widened with realization. “That’s what Justice meant, why Anders won’t leave you alone. You’ve taken this monster as your lover.” He was hissing at her, as viscous as a viper. “How the Void am I supposed to protect you if you invite demons into your bed?”

“Fenris, stop!” Who the fuck did Fenris think he was? He had no right to come into her house and call Anders a monster.

“Venhedis.” The seething elf spun on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

Anders’ voice, a touch more sober drifted down the stairs, “Well, that went better than I thought.”

She turned to glare at Anders, “You couldn’t leave well enough alone could you? Couldn’t just let me tell him my own way.”

He came down the stairs and she had to resist her own urge to attack him, maybe smack some sense into his head. He spoke calmly, “And under just what circumstances do you suppose he would have taken it better?”

She had no idea, but something had to have been better than that debacle. “We’ll never know now, will we?”

He kissed the top of her head, “It’s done. Now you can concentrate on sweet talking him and stroking his prickly little ego.”

She snorted at him. “You’re one to be talking about ego.”

He smiled faintly, “You’re right.”

She couldn’t help a little laugh, “ _Now_ you’re accommodating?”

“For you? Yes.” He traced his finger over her tattoo. “I’m sorry, perhaps that wasn’t the best way to handle the situation.” He moved closer, filling her nostrils with his cold mountain lake scent, making her tingle all the way to her toes.

She wondered if he had any idea what that smell did to her, what his proximity did to her. Maybe he did, and that’s why he was doing it now. She sighed in resignation, unable to hold onto her anger in the face of him being conciliatory. “You two are going to drive me mad.”

He raised an amused brow, “Knowing your friends as I do, I confess I’m surprised you didn’t go mad years ago.” He touched the message still clasped in her hand. “So, what’s the message?”

And now they were going to get right back into another argument. “Don’t know, I’ll take a look later.”

“You don’t want me to know?” He looked hurt.

She wanted to beg him to leave it alone, but she had to give him at least some kind of explanation. “My source is trusting me to keep his identity a secret, and I am.”

Anders scowl deepened as he turned towards the fire, “But _Fenris_ knows?”

She followed him, leaning her head against his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “He approached Fenris to bring me the messages, not the other way around. It’s nothing personal, love.”

He nodded, even though she could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “Fine, but you will share the message with me?”

She nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to want to hear what she had to say, but hoping he would understand. Anders was as volatile as she was when it came to Templars. “As long as it’s not information that can be traced directly back to him. I know you’d feel the need to act on it immediately regardless of whether you put him into danger or not.”

Anders looked down at her, scowling. “It’s just a Templar, Sekhmet.”

Which, had kind of been her first reaction. Thankfully, she’d taken some time to think about what an opportunity this could be if she were smart about it. “Yeah, and that’s short sighted. If Meredith finds him out and kills him we’ll have lost our only reliable inside source of information.” She could see him caving, realizing she was right. 

He let out a deep sigh, “Right, okay, fine.”

She kissed him quick. “Good, let’s go get some food. We both have things to do today.”

********

Once Anders was gone she headed to Fenris’ mansion. She had a gift for him and she was hoping to try to patch things up a little between them. She didn’t want him feeling alienated or unwelcome in her home just because Anders was there. Anders was going to have to get used to having Sekhmet’s friends stopping by the estate.

She jogged up the steps to the room he usually stayed in. He was pacing up and down, shirtless and bottle in hand, skin tight leggings, his hair disheveled and falling in his face, while he was muttering to himself. She stayed where she was for a moment, watching him. She’d never seen him this uncovered.

The lyrium etched into his skin had been applied by an obviously skilled hand. It looked almost like filigree metal work, and in an awful way she supposed it was. The white-silver of the lyrium stood out in stark contrast to his dark skin. It flashed in the sunlight from the open window as his skin slid over his heavily muscled body. The stark cut lines of his body looked more like stone than flesh. She wondered how he stayed in such fantastic shape and how did he hide it under his seemingly flimsy armor?

“Hawke, you’re staring.” She hadn’t noticed him looking at her. And, was that a smile on his lips?

She smiled, “Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry, not for appreciating how beautiful he was at least. She was sorry that she was admiring something that caused him such pain.

He shrugged, still looking faintly amused. “I’m getting used to it.”

She felt her smile widen. She liked him like this, confident and finding some peace about his body looking like artwork. “Izzy’s good for you.”

He scoffed, “Izzy’s not good for anyone.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself to talk with Fenris about Anders. “About earlier…”

He raised his hand to cut her off. “It’s not my business, Hawke. Just be careful.”

She nodded, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay away.” Perhaps it was better just to leave it alone.

He laughed, quiet but still a laugh. “Are you joking? If he thought to scare me by…” His eyes ran over her face for a brief moment, and she could see him curbing his tongue, “becoming part of your life, he’s sadly mistaken. You’ll be seeing plenty of me.”

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He sounded good natured about it, but considering how much he and Anders disliked each other it could make her life decidedly more difficult if he was planning on popping in often. She supposed she’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

She slid her pack from her shoulders and crossed to where he was now nonchalantly leaning against the wall, looking like a beautiful statue. “I have a gift for you.”

“Trying to buy my affections?” At least he was still smiling. It changed his whole face when he smiled, made him look younger, almost boyish, all his bitterness washed away. And the beautiful green of his eyes lightened as well.

“Actually, I found it, but it made me think of you.” She pulled it out and handed the book over to Fenris.

His smile evaporated as he took the book tentatively. He caressed his fingers over the leather, but mostly looked confused. 

Unsure about his reaction she tried to clarify why she’d given it to him. “It’s a book about Shartan.”

He flushed a little, “Slaves are not permitted to read in the Imperium.”

Ah, that’s what the trepidation was about. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re no longer a slave.”

“Hawke,” it was a soft admonishment.

“What? This isn’t Tevinter and I happen to be an incredible teacher.”

After a long moment he nodded. “And it will be a good excuse to come to the estate and make sure you and your mother are safe.”

A faint flicker of annoyance washed over her, but she pushed it away. Maybe, if she was really lucky, seeing her and Anders together would calm Fenris down. Perhaps, if he saw that Anders was no threat to her or her mother he would relax. “Well then, come over just about any evening and we’ll work on it. And if for some reason I’m not there, my mother can help. She’s teaching Orana and Sandal already.”

Fenris went red all the way to the roots of his hair. “Actually, I’d prefer if you would teach me, alone.”

He looked so young when he blushed. She knew it was just him being an elf; they had that odd ageless quality to them. Sometimes she could swear he was old enough to be her father and others, like now, he looked like he was bare a score. And of course, he couldn’t remember how old he was but she was pretty sure he was close to her age, looks aside.

“Very well, if for some reason I can’t make it I’ll let you know.” She turned to go but stopped, “Uhm, I can’t exactly guarantee the alone part. Not with Anders living there. Is that going to be a problem?”

Fenris’ eyes hardened. “He’s living there? Already? Don’t you think that’s rather quick, Hawke?”

She shrugged, ignoring his hard stare. “It’s been nearly four years. How long should we have waited?”

He grunted and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Good, see you tomorrow?” She asked lightly.

He nodded and turned to look out the window. Apparently dismissed, she left. She had a few other things to check on before she headed down to the clinic. She wanted to stop over to see Sebastian firstly.

As she climbed the steps to the Chantry she heard a small group of Templars talking in hushed tones in between barks of laughter. And as she passed them she heard one of them whisper “mage whore”. Her steps faltered, she didn’t know why, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t been hearing almost constantly for the last four years, but today it felt like it had more weight than usual.

Her mind skittered over the previous day as she started moving again. Even thinking about it was turning her on. She’d liked their little game yesterday, liked Anders having complete control over her. Did that mean there was something wrong with her? 

She was annoyed with herself, there was nothing wrong with enjoying a little play. She’d listened to Isabela talk about it enough, and she’d never thought any less of Izzy for her little games. So, why should she think any less of herself for playing games with Anders, a man who actually loved her?

As she moved through the Chantry though she had the paranoid feeling that everyone was talking about her. She hurried down to Sebastian’s room. He was seated inside at his desk writing, and just waived her in when she knocked lightly on his open door.

When he finished and set down his quill he stood and pulled her into a quick hug. “Hello, dear sister, how good to see you.”

She hugged him back, her stomach unknotting a little.

He’d sensed her uneasiness though, he stepped back, hands grasping her upper arms lightly. “What’s the matter? Do you need me to get my armor on?”

She shook her head and sat down on his bed, not sure she wanted to talk about this with Sebastian. “It’s nothing.”

He pulled the chair close to sit across from her. “Is it nothing, or just not something you want to talk about?”

She bit her bottom lip for a moment, thinking about what to say. She could tell him the truth, mostly. “One of the Templars outside the Chantry called me a ‘mage whore’ on my way in here today.”

Sebastian sat back and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Sekhmet. Who was it? I’ll make sure they’re reprimanded if that’s what you want.”

She shook her head.

“I thought not.” He crossed his leg to set his ankle on his knee. “So, what changed that it upset you today? I’ve heard them call you that and worse many times and you never batted an eyelash.”

She felt herself blushing. She wasn’t about to tell Sebastian about her kinky game with Anders. She was startled by Sebastian’s laughter, even gentle as it was.

“Anders a little kinkier than you expected, sis?” He was still smiling.

“I’m not talking about this with you.” She muttered, horrified at the prospect of talking about sex with someone she thought of as a brother.

“I was a brother of the Chantry, not a virgin, Sekhmet. I know a thing or two about sex, and kink if you need to talk.” He was more earnest sounding now, even if he couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face.

She looked at him for long moments and decided that he was being honest. She had a feeling; from the look on his face Sebastian did know a thing…or fifty about kinky sex. And that just sort of made it worse. “Do you really want to hear about me getting naked, sweaty, and dirty with Anders?”

The smile faded, “Not particularly, but if you need to talk I want to be here for you and I can handle it.”

Sebastian, trying to be a good friend even when he knew it would be unpleasant for him. The look on his face right now was eerily reminiscent of the look on Carver’s face when she’d had to explain a certain sex act to him. Poor, Sebastian, she decided to put him out of his misery. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. It’s just different.”

He immediately looked relieved and after a long pause and several deep breaths he added, “Love is the important part of a relationship, Sekhmet. What you do with your bodies isn’t important so long as there is love.”

Her heart stuttered in her chest. Was she so transparent that he had guessed at the problem without her really saying anything? She gave a faint nod, unable to respond any other way.

His smile returned, although it was smaller this time. “And he does love you.” He stretched and leaned back, reclining in the stiff chair as best he could. “I thought I was in love once, but watching Anders with you…now I’m not so sure it was love at all.”

A soft sigh escaped him. “I’ve made a decision about Starkhaven, and it’s thanks to the time I spent with you and Anders.”

She watch him closely, unsure of what to say and wanting him to continue.

“I’ll stay living here, and study the Chant, work towards becoming a brother again. But, I shall travel with you and fight at your side as long as you allow me. And if perchance I meet someone, someone I love the way Anders loves you, then I will let that guide me.

His voice became quieter, less sure. “If she is willing to join the Chantry we will stay there, together in a chaste marriage. And if she needs more worldly things to appease her, I shall take it as a sign and retake Starkhaven.” He gave her a wide smile, “And you are going to help me.”

She giggled, unable to stop herself at Sebastian’s odd romanticism. “What makes you think I’m going to help you?”

Her giggling stopped when Sebastian sobered, “Because I’m lonely, Sekhmet. I didn’t even realize how lonely I was until I saw the way Anders kissed you. It felt like it tore a hole in my soul and I felt this great empty chasm inside of me.” He shook his head and shifted forward taking a shaky breath. “That’s not true; it’s been there all my life, this hole I could never fill.”

He settled his head into his hands. “I drank and got in trouble, tried to fill the hole with meaningless sex and women.” Each word was pained sounding, as if each admission hurt him physically. “And then I came to the Chantry and I tried to fill it with the Maker. I stuffed it with the Chant, and prayer, meditation and piety. I even convinced myself I was happy, and content.”

He lifted his head, eyes red rimmed with tears threatening as he looked at her. “But, if I was happy why did I leave so easily? Why was I so quick to follow you into danger? If I was content, revenge wouldn’t have been able to rip me so easily from the Maker’s arms. If I was happy, following you, fighting with you wouldn’t have been so appealing; the call of adventure wouldn’t have been so seductive.” 

He exhaled slowly, working hard to rein in his emotions and to stop the tears from spilling over. His eyes were pleading with her for understanding, for compassion. “Your friendship helps, but I want that sense of peace and acceptance I see on Anders’ face. I want a partner who is my equal, as Anders is yours. I want someone who accepts me as completely as you accept him. I want…” He looked at the floor, his voice sounding choked. “I want, I want, I want…You tell me I belong with the Chantry, dear sister, yet here I am coveting another man’s life.”

Her poor, dear Sebastian , those pretty teal eyes of his hid an ocean of emotion she’d never even guessed at. She slid from the bed, shocked by his words and the deep pain she’d glanced while he’d spoken. She’d had no idea he’d been so lonely, that he hurt so much. What kind of friend had she been to him that she’d missed so much anguish? Carefully, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hoping to offer him some small measure of comfort.

He held her tight, sniffling against her shoulder a couple times while he struggled to get himself under control. When he finally let her go he gave her a self deprecating smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever cried in front of someone before.” He let out a deep breath, “I really like having a sister.”

A small smile touched her lips and she felt happy and warm inside at his admission. At least she had been able to do this small thing for him. “I’m proud to be your sister, Sebastian.”

He touched her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized she had shed. “So, you’ll help me?”

She sighed, “Honestly, there’s not a single woman I know that I’d let within ten feet of you. I don’t trust them.”

He chuckled, “I guess that means you’ll be acting as my big sister.”

She giggled, “If that’s what it takes to keep you from getting your heart broken, yes.”

********

She’d stayed and had tea with Sebastian after his shocking confession about being lonely. It was already late afternoon and she still wanted to stop at the Hanged Man before meeting Anders at his clinic. Hopefully, he hadn’t expected her too early.

She walked into the Hanged Man and found Varric standing awkwardly in the corner next to a woman who had her head down, sobbing on the table. She crossed to him quickly to see what was going on. Isabela seemed to almost appear at her elbow.

Her voice was quiet, “Hawke, there’s nothing you can do for her. None of us can help her.”

She sped her steps to see what the woman needed. “Varric, what’s going on?”

“Shit,” Varric turned to look at her, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check in. Now what in the world is going on?” She asked, a little exasperated at his attitude.

“Her sister’s been taken to the Gallows.” He said with a tired sigh.

“So, we’ll break her back out and get them out of the city.” She and Anders had done it a half dozen times before, it shouldn’t be a problem.

“Her sister’s not a mage. She was caught helping a man who was an escaped mage, an apostate.” 

She scowled, “Why did the Templars take her if she wasn’t a mage? Shouldn’t they have handed her over to the city guard?” 

“Not anymore, Meredith has decreed helping apostates a hanging offense. And since the city guard refuses to hang civilians for the Templars, they’re taken to the Gallows for their execution.” His voice which had started strong and angry had petered out as the sounds of the woman’s sobs became louder with his narration.

“She has no right, she doesn’t have jurisdiction over civilians. And how did she get a magistrate to agree to these cases?” Her anger was stirring inside her, how dare the Templars so grossly overstep their bounds? And why wasn’t anyone doing anything about it?

“There is no case. If they’re accused of aiding an apostate they’re being dragged off and hung. There isn’t a magistrate involved even.” She could hear the anger in Varric’s voice now.

She spun on her heel. She had to see this for herself. She couldn’t believe even Meredith would go this far. At a brisk pace she headed for the docks, Varric and Isabela trailing behind her. She climbed on the first ferry to the Gallows and patiently waited to arrive on the stone steps. In the center of the square was an actual gallows set up, mages were giving it a wide berth while the Templars seemed amused and fascinated. 

“How long has this been going on Varric?” She asked, trying to control her anger.

“About a week, apparently. There are three executions scheduled today.” He responded gruffly.

She nodded and started walking around the courtyard speaking with people. She wanted to learn as much as she could about this dangerous new declaration as she could. Not many wanted to talk, but the few who were brave enough filled her in quickly.

As dusk approached three people were led out. Two were women and one a man. Up the steps to the gallows they were taken. A crowd started to gather, mostly Templars and a few Tranquil. In mere moments there were no mages to be seen at all. Not that she could blame them; she wouldn’t want to watch either.

Sekhmet shifted in the crowd to get a better look. She didn’t want to forget this. Nooses were hung around their necks, the ropes tightened securely. Burlap sacks were slipped over each of their heads. It didn’t help much. She could still hear the three of them sobbing. 

The blonde haired woman was quiet, but the other bawled loudly. And the man, although mostly quiet had been dripping snot from his nose as he cried. None of them spoke, miraculously. And for a nasty moment she wondered if perhaps Meredith had cut out their tongues. It would have certainly left them quiet for the show.

“I’m leaving.” Isabela started moving away.

Sekhmet grabbed her arm and pulled her back, “No, you watch this and you remember. This is what happens when people like Meredith run unchecked. People die, innocent people.”

Izzy glared at her but stayed where she was. Varric’s eyes looked haunted as he watched them preparing the three people for their death. She, herself, was sick to her stomach knowing there were far too many people for her to do anything to save them. For a moment she thought about chancing it anyway, but she wouldn’t pull Varric and Isabela into a fight that would likely kill them without their permission.

She carefully looked at each Templar, noting their faces. She would remember, and they would pay. For every drop of blood the Templars spilled she would make sure they paid for it tenfold. And just as the Templars were terrorizing the citizens she would terrorize the Templars. 

And she’d invite Justice to come play with her. She was sure he’d be more than happy to help. Maybe, he’d even learn to not hate her. A girl could always dream right?

Bile rose in her throat and a swirl of fire and ice took up residence in her stomach as the Templars, except one, moved off the gallows. The one remaining stood beside a lever. So this was to be it, not last words granted even. She watched with her heart racing.

The Templar jerked the lever and all three people fell. There were two loud cracks followed by the bodies twitching. But one of them, the quiet woman, groaned and moaned and writhed. Her neck hadn’t broken like the other two.

Watching her choking to death was awful, her body jerked and twisted her feet scrabbling for purchase and finding nothing but air. She pissed herself and the spectators watched as the dark stain spread over her clothes. Sekhmet was incensed that the Templars were just standing there watching, not even bothering to help her or end her suffering.

She started heading through the crowd, determined to end the poor woman’s suffering. She was still yards from the gallows when she heard a zing by her right ear. She glanced up and saw the woman’s body hanging limply, still swinging from her struggle. And in her heart was a crossbow bolt.

She turned on her heel and headed back towards Izzy and Varric. It only took her a moment to find them. “Ready to leave?” She asked Varric.

Still looking ill he nodded. “Yes, let’s leave and never come back.”

Izzy took Varric’s arm, “I agree, let’s get out of here.”

No one stopped or hindered them as they left the Gallows. When they reached the docks she parted ways with Izzy and Varric and headed down to Anders’ clinic. She needed to see him now more than ever. As soon as she walked in she went straight to him and hugged him tight.

He stroked her hair, “You alright?”

“I just saw a hanging.” She stated flatly.

He nodded, “Been to the Gallows, I take it?”

She looked up at him, shocked, “You knew?”

A long sigh, “Yes, but there’s too many Templars around. There’s nothing we can do. I mean, we could set fire to the gallows, but they’d just rebuild it and probably hang even more people. Your source in the Gallows didn’t tell you about it?”

She dug the message out of her pocket. In all honesty, she’d completely forgotten about it. She popped the wax and skimmed over the message. Her contact had indeed told her of the new policy and the gallows that had been built. He’d advised her he saw no way to stop Meredith’s new policy yet, but that he would continue to look. 

“And?”

She looked up at Anders, “He told me, I just…forgot to read it.”

Anders looked around his empty clinic then back to her. “Come on, let me take you home.”

Feeling slightly numb she let him lead her home. She didn’t feel like eating, but did eventually accept a cup of tea. She sat staring into the fire trying to understand why the Templars would go along with killing innocent people.

Anders was attentive, but quiet and unobtrusive. Leandra had also left her to her own devices, likely worried at her brooding silence. And while she was brooding she was actually glad Fenris didn’t stop by for a reading lesson. She had a feeling she’d be terrible at tutoring tonight.

Eventually, she decided she’d had enough sulking and brooding. It was time to actually do something for once. She stood and headed to the foyer to grab her blades before she headed out.

********

“Where are you going?” Anders was confused at her sudden change.

She smiled and it was a dangerous looking curve, “Hunting…you should join me.”

“Hunting?” What exactly was she planning on hunting in Kirkwall at this time of night?

She slid her hood up to cover her white hair. “Come with me or not, Anders, but I’ve got Templars to kill.”

Justice stretched across his mind like a lazy cat, _“Hunting Templars? Anders, we need to join her.”_ And who was he to disagree. Honestly, it sounded like fun. “Give me a few minutes to get changed.”

“Wear something a little less conspicuous than that coat, will you?” Her eyes suddenly widened, “Oh, I have just the thing.” She jogged up the stairs, tugging the hood from her head as she ran and he followed her.

She went to the wardrobe and pulled a box from inside. She settled it on the bed and looked at him with an enormous grin. “I was going to give this to you in a few weeks, after you were more comfortable with…uh, gifts. But, it’s perfect for tonight.”

He opened it cautiously; there was armor inside, beautiful black armor with a silverite guard on the right shoulder. One of the gloves was fingerless and the other had silverite claw tipped fingers which were heavily inscribed with powerful runes. The boots were also silverite tipped and heavily enchanted. He pulled the armor out and found a long, wide purple sash in the box. He smiled, purple was his darling Sekhmet’s favorite color. He’d wear it proudly, a symbol of their love without the world at large knowing. It was perfect.

And then he caught sight of another piece. Sekhmet pulled it out of the box, “I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about this piece. It was my father’s.”

He took it gently from her fingers. It had a hood to cover his hair and a finely worked mask, made of a lightweight material he wasn’t familiar with. While wearing it, no one would have any idea who he was. He wondered how often Sekhmet’s father had used it. “Are you sure you want to give this too me?”

She nodded, “Papa would want you to have it, would want someone to get use out of it.”

“I’m starting to feel a little strange here, Sekhmet. First the staff, now this mask?” And the niggling memory in the back of his mind when Bethany had told him he reminded her of their father. Was Sekhmet trying to force him into a mould of her father?

She gave him a bit of a shy look. “Does that mean I shouldn’t tell you this armor is based off a set of my father’s armor and the set you were eyeing at the Merchant stall?”

“How in blazes did you get it done so fast?” He didn’t even know armor could be made so quickly.

Her smile fizzled a little, “Money can buy all sorts of things, including new armor much more quickly than normal.”

“Sekhmet,” he was frustrated she kept spending her money on him.

“What? I adore the coat, Anders. I really do. I dream about curling up naked in that thing it looks so comfy, but it is starting to show some obvious signs of wear. I want you to have the best armor; I want you protected as much as possible. Not to mention I bet you look damned fine in tight leather.”

He traced his fingers over the armor again, over the incredibly soft, supple and probably extremely expensive leather with a sigh. If she’d had it custom made she couldn’t take it back anyways. And, it would be nice to have some new armor. “I’ll take it if you promise to stop with the gifts, Sekhmet. I don’t need you buying me things.”

She shrugged, “And I don’t need the money. I can’t promise not to buy you things. If there’s something you need, or something I think you might like I’m going to get it for you, because I can.” She gave him a little smirk, “What’s the matter Anders? Afraid I’ll demand sexual favors in exchange for the gifts?”

A shiver of excitement ran through him, “Maybe exchanging for sexual favors isn’t such a bad idea. I think I’d quite rather like the opportunity to pay you back for the gifts.”

Sekhmet fell quiet and her smile faded away, he just barely caught the hooded look in her eyes before she turned away. She paused for a moment at the door. “I’ll be waiting for you in the foyer.” And with that she slipped from the room, seeming almost ghostly for some reason.

He pushed a few stray hairs off his forehead as he felt a flutter of nervousness in his chest. He’d upset her somehow, clearly it was the comment about sexual favors but he wasn’t sure why. She had to know he’d been joking, teasing her, just playing with the idea of another excuse to enjoy her delectable body. Didn’t she?

He closed his eyes, “Andraste’s ass, I am terrible at this love business.” He wanted to make Sekhmet happy, to hear her laugh and to feel her snuggled in his embrace. He needed to get his mouth and his libido under control. Instead of treasuring Sekhmet, he felt like half the time he was hurting her. 

Her moods were hard to judge, sometimes she was playful, and sometimes she took everything so seriously. But those smiles of hers and that laughter, it was so worth it when he could win them from her. 

He changed into the tunic and trousers he usually wore under his leather armor and coat. Then quickly pulled the new armor from the box and dragged it on, belting it into place. She’d been right; he did look pretty damned good in the tight leather. Well, except for his legs, it seemed to accentuate their long lines, making them appear even more strange than usual. But the rest of it looked quite dashing on him.

And as he wound the sash around his waist he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his lips. To everyone else it might just be a piece of purple fabric, but to him it was a clear declaration. He belonged to Sekhmet. Tingles raced down his spine. He liked the idea of her making a visible claim on him. It was kind of thrilling.

As for the mask he put it into a pouch on his belt. He wasn’t sure whether he would wear it or not yet, but thought it would be good to bring it along at least. As for the rest of the armor, he liked the metal accents on the boots and the one gauntlet. The enchantments would take some getting used to, they were lot stronger than the ones he was familiar with, but they weren’t unpleasant.

He picked up his staff from the corner, ready to strap it to his back when he nearly dropped it. It felt like everything inside him suddenly expanded, opened up and drank in the world around him. It took him a moment to realize there was another enchantment that seemed to activate only when he wore everything together, augmenting his mana, giving him a bigger pool to work with, and focusing his mind into crystal clarity. 

A smile played about his lips at the incredible rush of power. If the Templars thought he’d been a force to be reckoned with before, wait until they had to stand against him in this. He felt nigh invincible in his new armor, as powerful as a god. “And they shall tremble before me,” he intoned. Cliché maybe, but it certainly felt right. No wonder so many conquerors were quoted saying similar things.

He’d tear the Gallows apart brick by brick with ease in this armor. His love certainly knew what she was doing. He felt a deep rush of love and gratitude for her, amazed at how well she knew him, how much she understood his needs. And he would learn to do the same for her, he would know her as well as she seemed to know him. No matter what it took, he would make her happy.

He raced down the stairs, picking Sekhmet up and spinning in a circle with her in his arms laughing, kissing her. “It’s incredible, Sekhmet. The most amazing armor I’ve ever seen, ever felt. Sweet Maker, I feel amazing.” He could hear the excitement and jubilation in his voice, he must have sounded ridiculous to her, but he didn’t care. 

She’d given him this incredible gift. He set her down and kissed her again, “Thank you, my love. Thank you so very, very much.”

She giggled, “I guess that means you like it.”

He looked down at the leather clinging to him. “Like it? I bloody love it. I feel like I could take on the world in this armor.”

“Good,” with a quick smile she gripped his hand and pulled him from the house and into the night. 

When they were out of the house he pulled back a bit and with a heavy sigh she released his hand. He followed her quick steps closely and before long they were in Lowtown. She paused, head canting to the side before tugging him into an alley where they climbed up to the roof. She moved far more nimbly than he could manage, of course. 

Squatting low she stalked along the roof tops until she found what she was looking for. She pointed and Anders caught sight of their prey. His heart kicked up faster, excited to try his new armor out and pleased beyond words at her choice of hunting tonight.

There were three of them, silverite armor glinting dully in the moonlight, standing outside the door of one of the little ramshackle buildings. They appeared to be arguing with a woman standing in the doorway. She was terrified; Anders could practically feel it from where they were perched, poor woman.

Sekhmet pulled her hood up, hiding her face in deep shadow as well as covering her distinctive hair. “Put the mask on now, if you don’t want anyone to see you.”

He pulled the mask on and was surprised by how well he could see in it, his sight was certainly being enhanced in some way though he wasn’t quite sure how. Was even more surprised by how it seemed to mould to his face. It was very comfortable and light, another heavily enchanted item. Seemed Malcolm Hawk, clever man that he’d clearly been, had been very fond of his enchantments.

Sekhmet leaned forward and helped him tuck his hair inside the mask, and nodded when it was all hidden. “Follow my lead,” with that she dropped down to the ground and whistled loudly. The three Templars whipped around to find her. “Hello boys, what are we doing out so late? Does Meredith know you’re out past curfew?”

Anders dropped from the roof to stand beside her, silent, but watching the Templars closely.

“We’re searching for apostates. Now move along and mind your business.”

“Apostates? Like him?” She gestured to Anders.

He played along, holding out his hand and letting a little lightning dance between his fingers, the enchantment enhanced magic making his skin tingle pleasantly. Only one of the Templars had his helmet off, but even in the dark Anders could easily see his eyes widen in shock. Anders felt his body and Justice responding to the potential danger. The Templar would attack at any second and the prospect made him nearly giddy.

The woman they had been harassing disappeared inside of her house. The sound of the door lock echoing in the small space they inhabited. Anders was grateful she’d been smart enough to get out of the way.

“Apostate!” The Templar called out as he drew his sword. He was already headed for Anders, several feet ahead of his cohorts by the time they spurred themselves into action.

Sekhmet moved so quickly Anders only caught a blur out of the corner of his eye. But the next thing he knew the Templar’s head was lying at his feet.

“So typical, the minute you see a mage you forget anyone else is there. It’s such bad manners.” She scolded the still twitching corpse.

Anders couldn’t help a snicker at her overly irritated tone, even if it was in bad taste, considering the head lying at his feet.

She looked at the other two Templars, both who had frozen in their tracks at their apparent leaders’ quick death. “Come along now boys, don’t be shy. Oh, and do yourselves a favor, don’t treat me like I’m not here. It makes me so moody when people do that. I can’t abide rudeness.”

One of them turned on their heel ready to run.

“Anders,” Sekhmet yelled, but Anders had already taken action, or rather Justice had. A slow and painful crushing prison spell ensnared the man. Anders had let him through when he pushed. He felt it only fair that Justice get to enjoy a bit of hunting.

Sekhmet either didn’t notice that Justice was with her, or didn’t care. She strolled casually over to the third. “Are you going to face me like a man?”

The templar nodded slowly.

“Good, then take off the helmet.” Her words were jagged, bitter. Anders was surprised that Justice was so pleased with Sekhmet’s anger. 

He pulled it off, “I’m not afraid of you.” But his voice betrayed the lie.

“Are there more of you in the city tonight?” she asked casually.

He sneered at her, “Why would I tell a mage’s whore anything?”

A flicker of anger shot through Anders. _“Would you like me to hurt him?”_ Justice asked casually.

_“No, let her handle it, this time.”_ He didn’t like the Templars calling her that, and they would pay in time. And he was more than a little worried that Justice was so caually offering to hurt people for him, or perhaps he was offering to do it for Sekhmet? For now, she seemed to have it well in hand. Anders was having a hard enough time not reacting to the sounds of agony from the Templar Justice had snared.

She smirked and leaned in close to the Templar, “What makes you think he’s not _my_ little toy?”

The Templars’ eyes flicked to Anders and Justice briefly before moving back to Sekhmet. Clearly, he was thinking the idea over. It amused Anders to no end and though Justice was rather disgusted he kept his mouth shut.

The Templar winced each time a bone was heard snapping or pained howl was torn from his comrade, still trapped in the crushing prison, dying slowly. Justice could hurry the process along if he liked, but while Sekhmet was playing he saw no point. And Anders was of a similar mind, let the bastard suffer. Considering how much the Templar had seemed to enjoy tormenting that poor civilian tonight, he was no stranger to heaping misery on others.

Sekhmet sighed and tried again, amusement gone. “I’ll ask you once more. Are there more of you in the city tonight?”

The Templar surprised Anders by spitting at Sekhmet. Barely had it touched her skin then the man was falling to his knees clutching at his neck where a fountain of blood had suddenly erupted. Sekhmet wiped her face with a neckerchief while the man gasped and bled and slowly collapsed at her feet. She kicked him once before turning to leave.

Lightly, she tossed over her shoulder, “Stop playing with your food love, put it out of its misery.” As if they had done nothing more than had a meal.

Justice did, collapsing the prison all at once, leaving a misshapen and bleeding pile of flesh on the stones. Justice shifted inside of him, not releasing control, now that they had taken some action against the Templars. The spirit was very pleased with their hunting expedition. As for Anders, he felt good, invigorated, excited, and if he were a honest just a little sickened by Justice’s brutal treatment of the Templar he’d captured in the crushing prison. That specific brutality aside though, hunting might just be his new favorite past time, especially, if he was going to be doing it with Sekhmet. 

With his obvious pleasure Anders couldn’t help but tease Justice a little. _“Careful Justice, or I might suspect you’re starting to like my little lioness.”_

Instead of the quick denial he’d been expecting Justice’s response was more measured. _“She is…what is that word you are so fond of? Oh yes, she is a complicated woman.”_

Anders smiled and rushed after his complicated woman.


	46. Blessings and Curses

He’d been right, hunting had become his favorite past time. And it wasn’t just his, but Justice’s as well. In fact, Justice spent more time with Sekhmet on their hunts than Anders did. And to be honest, Justice was better at hunting with Sekhmet. He could read her moods more easily, knew when she wanted a quick clean kill, and when she was in the mood for more, not that Anders minded. 

Sometimes he appreciated the distance between him and the brutality that Justice and Sekhmet rained down on the Templars of Kirkwall. It wasn’t that Anders thought the Templars deserved leniency. No, in fact he knew how very much they deserved everything that was done to them. He just sometimes had a hard time reconciling the visceral violence with the fact that he was a healer as well.

Justice and Sekhmet getting along was an added bonus. She reacted to Justice no differently than she reacted to him. Actually, that wasn’t completely true, she left the touching, kissing, and innuendo behind when she was with Justice, but otherwise she treated him the same. Something Justice not only appreciated but had grown to like quite a bit.

And since he was hunting Templars nearly every night with Sekhmet he left Anders to his own devices for the most part. Not pushing at him to constantly do more, which actually led to Anders starting work on his manifesto again. And without the fear of Justice asserting himself and trying to push through to take control he was able to really and truly relax for the first time since their merging. 

Without the threat of losing control looming over his head he came to really enjoy living with Sekhmet and her odd little family. They were each so different, and so wonderfully unique. Anders adored all their quirks and how free they felt to be themselves. It was astonishing.

Bodahn was shrewd and had stories that rivaled even Varric’s and Anders loved hearing about Sareyna and the others during the Blight. She’d never spoken of it much when he was a Warden. Bodahn was so proud of Sareyna and Alistair one would have thought they were his children. 

And the dwarf was fiercely protective of Sekhmet, incredibly loyal and ready to stand up to anyone who spoke badly of her. It was a bit humbling to watch. As time went on he seemed to become fond of Anders as well, but it was easy to see his heart lie with Sekhmet. Anders had no doubt that if it came down to it the dwarf would choose Sekhmet every time.

When Anders wasn’t off in his clinic, or helping Sekhmet with some job he spent hours with Bodahn’s adopted son Sandal. The younger dwarf fascinated Anders, he was an enigma. Seemingly a simpleton one moment and then uttering something profound the next instance. Frustratingly, he never seemed to repeat the profound statements so if Anders missed what was said he never had another chance to catch it.

And then there was the boy’s enchanting, his ability far surpassed any Anders had seen before, not to mention whatever he had done to the ogre in the Deep Roads during the expedition. Anders always made sure not to push too much, not that Sandal couldn’t handle it, but rather it seemed to upset Bodahn. Bodahn had raised the boy as his own and Anders wouldn’t risk upsetting him over his curiosity.

Orana was a rather difficult matter. Being as Anders was the only mage in the house she deferred to him more than anyone else in the estate. Likely due to being brought up in the Imperium serving a magister. That in itself, while inconvenient at times, wasn’t a huge problem. 

The larger problem came from her going out of her way to find Anders and constantly asking him what she could do for him. He’d learned rather quickly to utilize both the bedroom and bathing chamber door locks as neither nudity nor catching him and Sekhmet in the throes of passion had slowed or deterred the girl.

And if he couldn’t think of something for her to do she’d often leave shaking and in tears as if he had reprimanded her. It took months for her to understand that sometimes he simply didn’t need anything, not that he was angry with her. And as far as seeking him out…well they were still working on it. While Sekhmet and Leandra were both amused, Anders felt very uncomfortable about the entire situation.

Anders had been worried that after their disagreement over his belongings that there would be a rift with Leandra. And he was quite relieved to find that the fear was baseless. Leandra had acted as if the incident had never occurred, and Anders was happy to go along with it because he wasn’t sure how to get back from that mess either.

Anders enjoyed talking with Leandra almost as much as with Sekhmet. Although, she didn’t possess Sekhmet’s intelligence and keen mind she was no slouch. She was even more ‘well read’ than Sekhmet and always had an opinion. And when she was in the right mood she regaled him for hours with stories of her life on the run with Malcolm, a man he was regretting not knowing more and more.

A couple times a week he and Leandra would even cook together. The idea of a man who could cook just tickled Leandra to no end and she seemed to enjoy teaching him new recipes. She reveled in teaching him Sekhmet’s favorites. It was in the kitchen where they often had their most personal conversations.

Sekhmet always steered clear of the kitchen unless Leandra asked for her help. And though he adored cooking with Leandra it was often bittersweet. The older woman would often get rather sentimental, perhaps voicing concerns to him that she couldn’t with Sekhmet for whatever reason. And he made more promises to her in that kitchen than he had in the whole rest of his life combined.

He could deny her nothing though. Her smiles and laughter, the way she ruffled his hair and bumped him out of the way with her hip when she needed him to move, it all reminded him of Rhoswhen. She mothered him and sometimes it was almost suffocating, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stop. Because he liked it, liked feeling like maybe she cared for him, like maybe a mother’s love wasn’t beyond him, even tainted and possessed as he was.

Which was why when she got that far off look in her eyes and started with “I need you to promise me,” he always agreed, no matter what she asked. And he meant it. He’d keep every promise he made to her, or die trying. Inevitably, they were about Sekhmet, caring for her, loving her, and not letting her fall apart when Leandra eventually died.

She’d confessed to him in whispered tones one day how hard it had been to be the only family Sekhmet felt like she had left. How she felt like Sekhmet was constantly waiting for her to leave too. How Sekhmet never staying at the estate was really her trying to prove to herself she didn’t need Leandra, and how Anders being there seemed to ease her daughter’s fears. Anders had a hard time picturing Sekhmet fearing anything.

She’d kissed his cheek, “Since you’ve moved in I’ve seen more of her than I have since before she left Lothering the first time. Thank you, I don’t think you have any idea what a gift that is for an old woman.” She’d laughed then lightly, “Now, if I could just get you to talk her into grandchildren before I die.”

He’d smiled for her, the idea of children thrilling and terrifying him. He still hadn’t spoke to Sekhmet about that part of being a Warden. In truth, he was scared to lose her if she found out they might not ever be able to have children. In the back of his mind, a piece of him was holding on to a spark of hope though. He wanted children, he just wasn’t sure he’d be a very good father.

And as wonderful as afternoons with Leandra in the kitchen were, there were things he wasn’t so thrilled about, like, trying to get used to Fenris’ seemingly constant visits. The elf came over most every evening for reading lessons with Sekhmet. Anders knew Fenris was keeping an eye on him as well, but didn’t let it bother him. He just really didn’t like Sekhmet being alone with Fenris so he usually sat and read on the upper floor of the library while she taught him below.

Sekhmet had protested at first, strenuously in fact. Eventually, she’d given in, probably because Anders hadn’t really given her much of a choice. She’d learned he could be every bit as persistent and stubborn as she could.

As for Sekhmet, living with her had come easy, as if they had always lived together. They fell into this nice comfortable rhythm and he learned to read her pretty well. They went weeks without arguments, something he’d never imagined the two of them would manage. And though they both had nightmares and woke each other up, they were both sleeping better together than they ever had apart. 

He came to love her tactile nature, how she wanted to touch and taste everything. She had this passion for life in her that was hard for him to reconcile with her age, and it kept him feeling young as well. Living with her was this odd blend of new and old. Old, as if they had lived together all their lives. And new because so many things with her were different and exciting in a way they hadn’t been for him in a long time. 

He told her he loved her at least a dozen times a day, because there were at least a dozen things she did in a day that made him love her more, or reminded him why he loved her so much. He never wanted her to feel like he didn’t appreciate her, like what was between them was old hat. And if half the time she laughed at him when he said it, he didn’t care. Those times she said it to him without him prompting her first he cherished, like rare treasures.

As for Justice, he was always there, but was usually quiet. The longer he lived with Sekhmet the more fascinated Justice seemed to be by her. He didn’t seem to be interested in anyone else in the house, not even Sandal, which surprised Anders. But with Sekhmet he was usually closer to the surface of Anders’ thoughts and on a few occasions actually asked Anders questions about her and their relationship. 

The spirit seemed curious now instead of disdainful. Perhaps it was his hunting adventures with Sekhmet that had mellowed him. Whatever the reason, Anders appreciated not having to deal with Justice being so antagonistic about his relationship with her.

Without any major jobs or outbreaks in Darktown Anders found himself living a comfortable and happy life for weeks on end. Even the Templars who had increased their presence and patrols in the city in reaction to Sekhmet’s nights of hunting weren’t something he really worried about. Sekhmet enjoyed the challenge, constantly devising new plans and strategies. And she was careful to keep civilians from seeing their faces. Not to mention, none of the Templars they confronted lived. There was no one to tell the tale of who they were.

The biggest problem they had in regards to their hunting was keeping it a secret from Sekhmet’s usual companions. Not that they didn’t suspect, but none of them would come right out and ask. He wasn’t sure why most of them kept their silence, but with Sebastian it was easy enough. The man was clearly afraid of the answer so he didn’t dare ask the question.

It made Anders uneasy that the Chantry Prince seemed so ready to put aside his principles to keep Sekhmet in his life. But, he kept his thoughts to himself, questioning her relationship with Sebastian was never a good idea. She still went to see him almost everyday, and Anders would let her go without a word. The bond between the two was clearly very strong and he was not stupid enough…or perhaps brave enough, to put it to the test. He wasn’t completely sure she would choose him over Sebastian if it came down to it.

He was fairly certain there was nothing between them other than friendship. And when she returned home she almost always filled Anders in on what they had spoken about or had done that day. She spent a lot of time with him training, learning how to shoot a bow and to be better with her throwing knives. And in return she accompanied him when he needed help, whether it be on an errand for the Chantry, or to play buffer between him and some new noble’s daughter being thrust at him, the poor man.

On such nights when she returned home she often lamented Bethany becoming a Warden. She was convinced Bethany would have been a good match for Sebastian before she’d left Kirkwall. Though, she also mentioned that she was no longer sure the two of them would be compatible since Beth had changed so much.

Anders agreed, he’d been writing and receiving letters from Bethany regularly. He didn’t think she and Sebastian would be a very good match at all. Not to mention Bethany already had her eyes set on someone.

He still wasn’t sure whether to tell her he knew who her crush was on. She hadn’t used his name yet, but from the description it had been easy to determine. He wondered if Nathaniel knew he had a new admirer. It did work out rather nicely for Anders, he could learn about his friend’s life without putting the man in danger by revealing himself. Bethany was only too happy to talk about him.

All in all, giving in and sharing his life with Sekhmet was possibly the best thing he had ever done. For once in his life, Anders felt truly blessed.

********

“No, Lee An Dra!”

“Enchantment?”

The calm of an afternoon of quiet solitude shattered, Anders pushed himself out of the chair he had been reading in and jogged down the steps from the second floor of the library. Sekhmet wasn’t home, she was “running an errand” with Varric and Isabela. Which probably meant there was stealing and alcohol involved and she didn’t want Justice to get upset about it. Orana had gone shopping and Leandra had left several hours ago, so it was just the men in the house.

He rounded the corner and almost rolled his eyes. “Gamlen, what do you need?”

Gamlen glared back at him, he resented Anders living in the estate while he was still living in Lowtown. It was no secret that neither Leandra nor Sekhmet had extended an invitation to him to move to the estate. “Is Leandra ill?”

That was an odd question, “No, she left hours ago, why?”

Gamlen licked his lips nervously, “She never showed up for our weekly visit.”

Bodahn spoke up from behind Gamlen; he had been berated by Gamlen several times in the past and was obviously wary of dealing with it again. “Uh, perhaps she is with her suitor.”

Gamlen and Anders both looked at Bodahn at the same time, “Suitor?”

“Ah…yes, she received some flowers this morning. Lilies I think.” Bodahn ventured, looking to a vase on one of the small tables.

Seeing the vase full of white lilies Anders felt all the blood drain from his face. “Uh, I need to go.” How had he missed those? And why hadn’t Leandra said anything about them. That wasn’t like her. 

Gamlen obviously noticed his concern. “Why, what is it?”

Anders shook his head. “I have to find Sekhmet and let her know Leandra’s missing.” With that he headed up the stairs to grab his boots and coat, quickly.

Gamlen was babbling when he came back downstairs. “Maybe she went another way to my house; I must have just missed her.”

Anders nodded noncommittally and started corralling Gamlen towards the door. He had to get to Sekhmet as soon as possible. Leandra could be in very real danger, and Gamlen was wasting time. “Alright, you look around Lowtown then. Maybe someone saw her.” 

Gamlen nodded, strode quickly ahead of Anders and left. 

Bodahn was very quiet beside him. “Something bad is happening, isn’t it?”

Anders looked at Bodahn, trying to reassure him. “Let’s hope not.”

He clearly wasn’t convinced. “Sandal and I will stay here in case she comes home.”

“Good, any idea where Sekhmet went today?” She hadn’t mentioned where she was heading.

“Said she had some business at The Gallows and then something she needed to take care of at The Hanged Man, I believe.” 

Anders nodded briefly before leaving the estate. He would head to The Hanged Man first, no point going to the Gallows if he didn’t have to, especially alone. It was probably why she had left him home to begin with. Though now that he knew, it made him more anxious, what business could she possibly have at the Gallows?

********

Sekhmet’s head jerked up from the paperwork spread out before her as Anders came through the door, slamming it open. His eyes had a wild desperation to them and he was breathing fast as if he had been running. “Anders?” Her skin crawled, something was very wrong.

His eyes landed on her and she saw fear in their soft brown depths. “Sekhmet, hurry, your mother.”

Her heart started hammering even before she knew what was wrong.

“She’s missing and she…” He looked so miserable, “she got lilies this morning.” A mournful tone suffused his words.

No, this couldn’t be happening. No, no, no, not again. She couldn’t lose her mother. She’d find her, and save her. Save her as she hadn’t been able to save papa, or Carver, or Bethany. This time, would be different.

She stood up, trying to portray a calm and surety she didn’t feel. “Let’s go get her.” She strode from the room and was grateful that Isabela and Varric both followed her. As soon as she was out of the tavern she took off at a run. She couldn’t, wouldn’t be too late this time.

Dread, heavy and thick, swirled in her gut as she followed a trail of blood back to the foundry where she’d found the bag of human remains years ago. _“Please Maker; don’t let me be too late. Just this once let me save someone I love. Please.”_

Anders was at her side, looking paler than usual and Isabela and Varric still followed. They were like two silent sentinels, waiting for a chance to do something, anything, to help. Just their presence helped; she wasn’t alone this time. She’d have help to save her mother.

Anger at herself stabbed brightly through her when they found a trap door she’d apparently missed years ago. How could she have been so careless? A woman had been missing and she’d done a half assed job at finding her, and now her mother was paying the price for her mistake.

She swallowed hard, she wouldn’t think like that. She would save her mother, and kill the bastard who dared to touch her. And then she would find a way to make it up her, somehow.

Under the foundry they found Alessa’s desiccated corpse. Bizarrely, her feet were missing. The stone in Sekhmet’s stomach grew. There was no doubt now, the killer who had been hunting Kirkwall’s women for years had her mother.

She kept moving deeper until they were accosted by corpses. She glanced at Anders and saw something new: anger. Justice flickered and burned under his skin. Not taking control, but reveling in the rage she could see in Anders’ eyes. The person who had taken her mother was a mage, and Anders was furious about it.

He picked up a tome sitting on a small table and spoke, fury curling around every word like wisps of smoke, “Blood magic, and now necromancy? We need to be careful of this mad man. And one way or another, he won’t be getting out of this alive.” He looked up, eyes locking on hers, “I swear it, love.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Anders’ devotion was welcome, but _she_ would kill whoever had dared touch her mother. Varric silently moved around the room picking things up here and there, tucking them away without a word. She had no idea what they were, but he seemed to think they were important. Perhaps, he was just looking for ways to make money, but the frown and deep crease between his brows made her doubt it.

Isabela was staring up at the wall and when she spoke her voice was weak, “Hawke, you need to see this.”

She looked up and saw a painting and felt her breath catch in shock. Moving closer to get a better look she felt Anders and Varric join her. They all stood, staring at the painting on the wall.

“Ancestor’s mercy.” Varric whispered.

“Is that…” Anders started, but his voice trailed off.

“No, but she looks very similar.” The woman in the painting looked like her mother, there were small differences of course, but they could have been sisters. The sick fuck had taken her mother because she reminded him of whoever was in this painting. 

A faint hope uncurled inside her. Maybe her mother was still alive. If the person who had taken her cared enough about the woman in the portrait to have the painting so prominently displayed perhaps they wouldn’t hurt her mother. Perhaps, if the Maker was kind, she’d only been kidnapped.

Feeling hope suffuse slowly through her she stepped away from the portrait and continued deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels under the foundry. She ignored the smell of rot and decay, ignored the pools of blood they encountered and focused on that small sliver of hope. Her mother was still alive.

Jogging down a set of stairs the stench of rotting flesh became almost overpowering. And as she turned the corner they came across two people, an old and withered man, the mage who had taken her mother clearly. The other seemed to be a woman, frail and delicate looking, seated facing away from them, dressed in what looked to be very old wedding garb. 

Just what the Void was going on here?

The man stepped forward with smug grin, “I was wondering when you would show up, Leandra was so sure you would come for her. I am Quentin, and I have a feeling we’ll be getting much better acquainted.”

She narrowed her eyes, surprised he had so willingly admitted to taking her. “And here I am, so where is she?”

His grin widened, “You will never understand my purpose. Your mother was chosen because she was special. And now she is part of something…greater.”

She stepped closer to him, “I don’t give a shit about your purpose. Just tell me where the fuck she is.” If he didn’t shut up and just tell her she might decide to kill him now and find her mother on her own.

Again his grin widened, his voice condescending “She is here.” He turned to look behind him at the seated woman. Sekhmet wasn’t sure what the mage was playing at, she could tell just from the woman’s size that it wasn’t her mother. Still, he continued. “She is waiting for you.” He puffed up his chest, arrogance in every syllable. “I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived.”

She was going to strangle him, or beat him. His insane ramblings were scratching at her already shredded nerves. She just wanted to find her mother, kill this prick and go home, smother her mother with attention and bask in Anders’ steady support.

Quentin canted his head, as if evaluating her. “Do you know what the strongest force in the Universe is?” When Sekhmet didn’t respond he turned and walked slowly to the woman seated behind him. He touched her hair lightly, “Love.” A brief pause before he walked around the seated woman, standing beside her.

“I pieced her together from memory.” His eyes had taken on a far off look, as if he was walking in those memories now. “I found her eyes, her skin” he reached down, bony fingers taking the woman’s hand, “her delicate fingers.” He released her hand to cup her chin; with a shiver she realized he had two small moles on the back of his hand like Anders. 

She shoved the thought away, buried it deep so it would never see the light of day. She would absolutely not sacrifice her love of Anders because he had a skin imperfection that reminded her of Quentin. She would lock that memory away, and banish it forever.

Quentin’s voice had taken on an almost hypnotic cadence. “And at last her face, oh this beautiful face.” He released the woman and she stood slowly. The mage’s voice took on the insanity that clearly clouded his mind. “I’ve searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, and no force on this earth will part us.”

The woman lumbered awkwardly to her feet, moving painfully slowly with jerky, hesitant motions. When she finally managed to turn around and face them Sekhmet felt her world shatter. It was her mother, but not.

Her mother’s head had been inexpertly stitched onto a body. And the foul thing had been stitched together from other bodies, the pieces in different states of decomposition, the skin oddly sagging as if it didn’t belong on the body. She’d failed, she’d failed again. Her mother was dead.

The flicker of recognition in her mother’s eyes was almost more than she could bear. Her heart felt like it was ripped in twain, a dead useless lump in her chest. There were not words to describe how she felt in that moment. The world could rip itself apart beneath her feet and she probably wouldn’t have noticed. 

She forced herself to take a breath and reinflate her burning lungs. The grey pinpricks at the edge of her vision faded as she forced herself to take another. With great difficulty she tore her gaze away from the monstrosity that bore her mother’s visage.

And when her eyes landed on Quentin’s smug face, it ignited sparks within her. She relished it and pulled on the only thing that would see her through this. Anger. She let it swirl around her and suffuse her veins, like a fiery poison wending its way through her. She let it seep into every inch of her body. Every breath scorched like fire within her. 

This man would know pain. This man would know suffering intimately, like an old lover, before he died. How could she let her mother’s murderer suffer any less than her father’s had? 

The mage must have noticed the change in her because the smug smile melted from his face, replaced with alarm. The sight of it brought a smile to her face. A smile she knew was not warm, a smile that had sent men running from the battlefield. A smile that spoke volumes as to just how fucked this man truly was.

With a quick flick of her arm she sent a blade flying to embed into and through his foot, effectively pinning him to the floor. Before he could react she threw another, listening to him howl as it too found its mark. Both feet held still by blades deeply buried through them and into the wooden floor below the mage finally responded.

He threw up a shield, and called forth corpses, shades, and demons to attack them. Sekhmet didn’t bother to acknowledge them. No, she had her prey and she could be patient. The others would take care of anything that threatened her.

She marveled at that for a moment. For the first time she could remember, she actually was trusting people. She trusted them to keep her safe while she was focused elsewhere. It was kind of a nice. Not something she would dwell on now though, her anger suited her better.

Her gaze moved to the undead creature with her mother’s face. It was watching her curiously, and was she deluding herself of was that pride in her mother’s dead eyes? She looked away, she could revel in madness later, for now she had a man to kill.

She stood still, watching him as he began to tire, as his magic began to wane. A thick, sickly spell still wound around the room, but the rest faded as he lost his ability to weave and hold so many spells. Was the sickly, sweet spell the one keeping the stitched together corpse animated?

When at last his spell shield faltered she whipped out another knife, lightning fast. He screeched and dropped his staff as his fingers became numb and lifeless. All that time learning anatomy from her father and Anders paid off at last.

Dropping her shoulder she rammed into him. A high pitched scream echoed around the room as he fell backwards ripping the blades up through his feet. He tried to curl up into a ball but Sekhmet kicked him hard in the gut knocking the air out of him.

He flopped on the floor, mouth working useless for a few moments while he tried to pull in a breath. She took her time, pulling out the knives still embedded in the floorboards. She wiped them clean on the mage’s robes before tucking them back into her belt.

When she ripped the one from his hand he managed enough breath for another faint scream. With another small smile she reached into a pouch on the back of her belt and pulled out something she hadn’t used in ages, a pair of cestuses. She pulled off her gloves as she settled across Quentin’s waist.

Dropping her gloves to the floor she pulled on one of the cestuses, feeling the weight of the iron against the back of her fingers she laced it tight. She watched fear creep into Quentin’s gaze as she pulled the second one on as well. She thought briefly about letting him try to protect himself, but he’d kidnapped and murdered her mother. He didn’t deserve any consideration. And he didn’t deserve mercy. She took his already damaged hand and held it flat to the floor, palm up. 

He whimpered and fought her, but he was an old man, and a weak mage. She held him fast and stabbed one of her daggers through his palm and into the floor. She’d have a hell of a time dealing with the damage to the blade later, but his blood curdling scream as it ripped his flesh and severed bone was satisfying.

She felt an odd calmness flow over her as she pinned and stabbed his other hand. It didn’t feel completely real, and she hadn’t really heard his scream. The room seemed to close in, leaving only the two of them in it. Just her and the man she was going to kill.

She took a breath, and even that felt slow. The mage beneath her was crying and babbling, blubbering like a child. Had her mother cried? Had she begged for her life, pleaded with him to spare her? Somehow she doubted it very much. Her mother had been a proud and strong woman. She would have faced her death bravely.

And then the anger washed over her again. He didn’t deserve to look upon her mother let alone touch her. With a growl of fury she slammed her fist, heavily encased in the cestus, into Quentin’s blubbering face.

It landed with a satisfying crack, his lips splitting and pieces of his teeth flying. It had felt good, right, his face splintering under the iron reinforced impact of her fist. He struggled against the daggers holding his hands and when he couldn’t release them he turned his face away.

She slid forward, a knee on either side of his head, holding him still. She swung again, the impact jarring up her arm, and sending a fine spray of blood from Quentin’s destroyed face. His eyes started fluttering as if he would pass out. He wouldn’t escape so easily. She waited, waited for him to regain himself. 

He looked at her with terrified eyes, and sobbed through his broken teeth. “She’ll die. If you kill me she’ll die.”

Her eyes narrowed, “She’s already dead, you sick fuck.” She lashed out again, cutting off any protest.

And then things went hazy, all she could remember was hitting him again and again. She felt his hot blood hit her cheeks, her chin, her neck. And it was strangely satisfying. Each spray of blood and crack of bone felt better than the last.

Finally, Anders’ voice, quiet and filled with pain, broke through the haze. “He’s dead, Sekhmet. And your mother is asking for you.”

Her head jerked up, her mother? She looked around and found her mother staggering slowly towards her, like a marionette whose strings were being cut. She jumped up and ran to her, managing to just catch her as she fell to the floor.

“Mother?” Her heart was aching, could her mother’s mind still be intact?

Her mother reached up with an unsteady hand and brushed a blood soaked strand of her hair back behind her ear. A soft smile curved her dying lips, “You came, I knew you would come.”

Anders’ voice was choked behind her. “There’s nothing I can do, his magic was keeping her alive.”

Another spike of anger shot through her, but she quashed it quickly. Anders couldn’t be expected to save a severed head stitched to a rotting body. He was a superb healer, but he wasn’t a god.

She tried to speak but couldn’t force any words past her constricted throat.

Her mother took a ragged breath, but still that soft smile clung to her. “Don’t cry, I’m going to see your father. I was never any good without him, anyway. And I miss him.”

“Mother please, don’t go.” It was a soft plea.

“And your brother, I’ll be with him too. I’ll be fine.” The smile melted from her face and concern darkened her eyes. “But you’ll be left alone. I’m sorry, my darling.”

She stroked her mother’s hair, not wanting her mother to worry about her in her dying moments. “I’ll be fine mother, you know me.”

The sadness settled more heavily over her, “Yes, I do.” She took another breath, shallow. And forced the smile back to her quickly paling lips, “I love you Sekhmet, I always have. And you’ve made me proud.” Her body trembled in Sekhmet’s arms. “So….” Her head fell to the side, her mother lacking the strength to hold it up, “proud.” It came out in a soft whisper and her mother was gone.

She pulled her mother tight against her, holding her close. This couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. How could she fail so spectacularly again? How could she fail to save another member of her family? She’d failed them all now, every single one of them. 

She wanted to scream and she wanted to cry and she wanted to shatter apart on the floor and die. But she did none of those. She held her mother and rocked her and tried to burn her last words into her memory. The last words she would ever hear her mother speak.

********

Sekhmet hadn’t just killed the mage, she had destroyed him, brutally executed him. He’d never seen someone literally pummeled to death. And after those first two guttural growls she had fallen silent. Other than her rhythmically falling fists she had seemed almost eerily calm as she had done it. Even as her mother lay dying in her arms she was calm, soothing her mother in her last moments.

She jerked away from his touch when he tried to comfort her on the way out of the foundry. He pushed down the brief flare of hurt at his comfort being rejected, everyone dealt with grief differently. He followed silently behind her as she strode, blood spattered, to the Viscount’s Keep. 

Isabela and Varric both disappeared when they realized where she was headed. Varric promising to take care of Leandra’s body before he quickly strode away. Clearly neither had any desire to be caught in the middle of Sekhmet’s grief and anger. Only Anders stayed with her as she headed straight for the guard quarters and kicked open the door to Aveline’s office, rage and grief briefly warring on her face.

He knew his beloved, knew she had to grip onto her anger tight to make it through the next few hours. Anger was her shield for now. He only hoped it didn’t last too long. She needed to really grieve so she could keep on living. Otherwise she’d wither away and he’d lose her forever.

Aveline shot up from her desk, her eyes flicking between Sekhmet who was covered in blood, to Anders who stood quietly by the door, who was sure he looked as lost as he felt. He should stop her; find some way to get her home. This could only end in disaster.

Sekhmet was breathing fast, her nostrils flaring. “I just thought you might want to know that the man who has been killing women for years in this city was dead. Ser Emeric was right.” Sekhmet stepped closer to Aveline who stared at her unsure of what to say. “All that damned evidence we brought to you and you didn’t even bother to investigate.”

“Thank you.” Aveline said hesitantly, then stepped backwards as she saw Anders suddenly move forward he was sure his panic showed on his face.

He grabbed Sekhmet just as she tried to lunge at Aveline, screaming. “Ghyslain was right, why are we paying you. You’re all worthless. I do more to protect this city then your entire guard combined. Anders, let me go, right now!”

Aveline looked to Anders confused as he struggled to keep his hold on Sekhmet. “What’s going on?”

Sekhmet struggled for another few seconds before she stilled in Anders’ arms. “I’m alright, let me go.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, not sure he completely believed her.

“Yes, I…I just want to go home.”

Hesitantly, he released her and she headed for the door, Anders trailing behind her. As she reached the doorway she turned back to Aveline, who was still watching the two of them looking completely confused. “There were two more victims before we caught him.”

Anders whole body stiffened and he moved to stand in front of Sekhmet. “You don’t need to do this now.”

“I do.” She pushed him out of her way and stared hard at Aveline. “The woman Alessa I told you about? The one you couldn’t afford to have someone watch? She died, we saw her mangled body.”

He touched Sekhmet’s arm, this would end badly. “Sekhmet, please, you’re upset.”

“You’re right,” she let out a slow breath. “I’m upset.” She turned towards the doorway again and he felt relieved that she was going to leave it alone, but he should have known better. 

She stopped again, suddenly, and turned around. Anders just moved out of her way, there was nothing short of putting her to sleep that he could do to stop her now and he would never do that to her again. Resigned, he turned to watch Aveline, and hoped the damage wouldn’t be irreparable. 

Sekhmet’s voice had become sarcastic, “Did I tell you that my mother received white lilies this morning?”

Aveline blanched and reeled backwards a step, covering her mouth. Finally, realizing the real reason for Sekhmet’s impromptu little visit.

“And this evening, I held my mother in my arms while she died. Well, part of her at least, the head was hers, the rest of the body was stitched together from parts of the other missing women that Ser Emeric and I told you about. Great job, Captain, glad to see the guard working so hard to keep this city safe.” 

Aveline had collapsed into her chair during Sekhmet’s rant. Her expression was horrified and devastated. “I’m…so sorry.” Her voice broke over the words.

“Save it, save your bullshit and platitudes, I don’t want to hear it. My mother died Aveline, because you didn’t do your fucking job. Your apologies mean nothing to me, Guard Captain.” She spit out the last two words as an epithet. She jerked away from Aveline abruptly and left, striding quickly from the Viscount’s Keep. Anders followed a few steps behind her. He had been the focus of her rage before and knew it was best just to let it blow itself out.

********

Gamlen had returned to the estate that night, and no matter how Anders tried to talk with him he insisted on seeing Sekhmet. He pushed his way past Anders into the library, where Sekhmet had been sitting silently since they arrived home. She just sat there staring at the fire. 

Anders didn’t hear much of the exchange, but he heard Gamlen blame Sekhmet for Leandra’s death. He was only too happy to usher Gamlen out of the house a few minutes later. He slipped into the library quietly. “Do you need anything?” he asked; voice not much above a whisper.

Sekhmet shook her head no, but her gaze never left the fire. Eventually, she moved to their bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He followed her in and hesitated by the door for a moment. “I have no words that can make this better, and for that I’m truly sorry, but I’m here if you need me, for anything.”

Sekhmet closed her eyes and turned away from him, “I don’t.”

“Sekhmet,” he hesitated unsure of exactly what to say, smarting from Leadra’s loss and from Sekhmet’s harsh words. 

She hung her head, “I should have found her faster.”

Anders walked to the side of the bed, “She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Sekhmet flashed angry and pained eyes up at him, “You didn’t know her.” She hissed at him.

He sighed, now was not the time to argue with her, so he just agreed. “You’re right, I didn’t know her as much as I would have liked to, and I am sorry I never will. But she loved you Sekhmet.”

She was quiet for several minutes and he was about to say something, anything, when she looked at him for a moment, “Do you remember that day in the Deep Roads after Bethany?”

Anders nodded his stomach knotting as he realized what she wanted from him. “And I’m not more willing to do it now. It’s not what you need Sekhmet.” Considering how he felt just now he wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to. Sex was the last thing on his mind.

Sekhmet shook her head, irritated with his refusal. “Then just leave, Anders.”

Anders sighed and left the room, feeling useless. The woman he loved was hurting and she wouldn’t let him help her, wouldn’t let him comfort her. He ached to hold her, to be there for her while she grieved, and honestly, he wanted to share his grief with her.

He’d forged a bond with Leandra over the last several weeks, and he was hurting too. True, she wasn’t his mother, but she’d been the closest thing to one he’d had in a very, very long time. She’d been so open and accepting of him, had shared her thoughts and fears with him and invited him to do the same.

His heart ached not only that she was gone, which still didn’t seem quite real, but that she’d died in such a horrible way. Considering that her head had been sewn to a cobbled together body the poor woman had faced death twice. Yet, she’d been concerned not for herself, but for the daughter she was leaving behind. The daughter he’d promised not to leave, and to take care of should anything happen to Leandra.

When he’d made the promise he figured he had a decade or two before he had to worry about it. Had Leandra sensed her death was coming or had she simply been trying to reassure herself Sekhmet wouldn’t be alone? He didn’t know why Leandra would have been so concerned, Sekhmet was strong and could take care of herself. Still, he had promised her. 

He closed his eyes and felt a couple tears slip and run down his cheeks. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. He wouldn’t be embarrassed to mourn such a great woman. And he wouldn’t shy away from his feelings as Sekhmet was doing. He wanted desperately to be there for her, to comfort her but he couldn’t force it on her, so he retreated down the stairs to give her some space.

That had been almost four days ago. He hadn’t seen her sleep at all and she only ate when he brought food to her. And then she mostly picked at it. She paced around the estate almost constantly and refused to leave it even for the funeral. She avoided Anders and everyone else when she could.

He wasn’t sure what to do other than wait, and be there for her. She had frozen the emotional part of herself off to deal with the monstrousness of what had happened to her mother. And even though he didn’t agree with it, he couldn’t blame her. Still, she needed to grieve. 

The ghost roaming the halls of the estate needed to anchor back into life at some point.

He had managed to keep everyone away from her so far, but it was getting more difficult as they became more demanding. They all wanted to comfort her and offer condolences, but she wasn’t ready for any of it. She wasn’t grieving, she was avoiding and until she stopped anyone offering her condolences was doing her a disservice. Anders kept himself available for her, but stayed out of her way, as per her request, much as it hurt him to do it, and mourned in his own ways.

Tonight he’d spent most of the night working on a charcoal sketch of the woman who had taken him in. He even managed a small smile when he thought that she’d practically kidnapped him. With her sense of humor she’d probably have found it funny. 

She was laughing in the sketch, hair pulled back loosely as she often wore it. And he couldn’t help but to draw her playing the lute. She’d only played it a few times for him, but she had been amazing at it, her tunes both haunting and fantastically beautiful. And when she lost herself to the music she’d become a beautiful, young woman.

He slipped the sketch into his desk and headed upstairs to bed. Sekhmet was still sitting in the library, but he knew better than to bother her. She’d call for him or Bodahn if she wanted or needed anything. 

Hours later he was reclining in their bed, a book lying on his chest forgotten as he worried about her. He wasn’t sure if there was maybe something else he should be doing for her at this point. For some reason, she didn’t seem to be capable of grieving.

Suddenly, the door to the room crashed open, banging off the stone wall and shaking in its frame. Sekhmet stumbled into the room, hair loose and sticking up oddly as if she’d been pulling at it. Her eyes, red rimmed with tears streaming from them, locked onto him. 

It yanked viciously at his heart to see her. She looked no more than a small child who’d lost her mother and couldn’t understand. Her breath hitched as she stood there, looking completely shattered and terribly young.

Anders moved to get up, to go to her and comfort her but Sekhmet ran at the bed and flung herself onto it. She clutched at him desperately, her arms wrapping around him. Her head she laid on his bare chest. Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, great catastrophic sounds tearing from her. As much as it tore at his heart to hear her, he felt relieved that she was finally grieving.

As the two of them lay there, he stroked her hair and she cried herself to sleep, still clutching him tightly the whole time. Anders moved as much as he could without waking her and pulled the blankets he could reach around the two of them. 

And as he lay there, his sweet lioness so clearly heartbroken and shattered he couldn’t help a few tears of his own, both for the loss of Leandra and Sekhmet’s obvious pain. With Sekhmet finally in his arms, letting him feel like he was finally doing something for her, his body relaxed after days of unbearable tension. He found himself yawning and quickly followed his love into slumber.

He awoke when she planted kisses across his chest. He opened his eyes, still heavy with sleep as she spoke. “Thank you for not listening to me, thank you for staying.”

He stroked her hair gently, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up and caught his eyes and Anders could see the fear in them and it stuck him like a blow, Sekhmet was never afraid, never. Nothing she saw, nothing she faced ever made her afraid, not dragons, or ogres, or men, or Templars, not even Justice. “I’m alone now. Without you, I’m all alone.”

Anders winced at the words. Leandra had been right, his strong, brilliant, beautiful woman was afraid of being alone. How had he missed that? It didn’t matter now; he was very familiar with feeling alone and knew just how awful it could truly be. He wouldn’t make her face this alone. “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me, my love.”

“Good” she mumbled, fatigue dragging her down again, before resting her head back on his chest. Her arm tightened around his waist and she planted a few more kisses on his chest before nuzzling against him and slowly drifting back to sleep. 

Anders stared at the ceiling trying to calm his thundering heart. Responsibility was not something he was very good at. And in all honesty, neither was staying, but for her and for Leandra he would try. He had to.


	47. Chapter 47

For the last three weeks Anders had felt like he was drowning. The beautiful, strong woman he had fallen in love with seemed to have disappeared, the loss of her mother clearly too much for her to bear. The woman he lived with now was meek, quiet and unsure of herself. She was needy at times and at others completely stand-offish, and she was always somber. Anders couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard her laugh.

She hadn’t been able to bear to venture out of the estate, or to be home without him. So he’d stayed with her, struggling to be supportive and positive while he felt like the life was being choked out of him. It wasn’t fair really, it wasn’t her fault her mother’s death had hit her so hard. 

In many ways it seemed as if her mother had been the last support pillar left to her and when she died, Sekhmet had simple collapsed in on herself. She could barely articulate what she was feeling, let alone deal with it properly. And he could do nothing other than to be there for her and play buffer between her and the rest of the world.

There wasn’t a single one of her companions he hadn’t had a row with over the last few weeks. They all thought they knew what was best for her, and all wanted to drag her from the estate. She said she wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t about to let anyone force her.

Regardless of the shape she was in he still loved her and he would take care of her to the best of his ability. And she had been making improvements slowly but surely. He’d even caught a glimpse of a smile yesterday. Perhaps they were finally moving on the road of recovery.

He felt the bed shift and looked over to see Sekhmet stirring. He stayed still, almost holding his breath to see what kind of day is was going to shape up to be. She jerked up her head, eyes wild for a moment until she spotted him lying beside her. Suddenly, her whole body relaxed, so far so good.

And then it got even better. She scooted over until she was curled up against him and settled her head on his shoulder. “Morning,” she mumbled.

Seemed she was going to be alright with him touching her today. It was amazing how difficult it was for him to get through an entire day without touching her. He’d become used to touching her face, tucking her hair out of the way, holding her hand and wrapping his arm around her. But, some days she just didn’t want to be touched at all and he did his best to accommodate her.

He stroked her hair, grateful when she snuggled closer. “Morning, beautiful. How are you feeling?” He shoved down the brief flare of arousal. He hadn’t touched her like that in weeks, and that too was taking its toll, albeit a minor one. It was hard to think about sex when the woman you loved was falling apart.

She sighed softly, “Do you mean am I going to spend half the day crying again? No, I think I’ll be okay. I feel pretty good actually.” 

“I’m glad.” He decided to push her a little, “Listen, we need a few things from the market, just a couple but someone should go. Do you want to give it a try? If not, we can send Bodahn and Sandal.”

She was quiet for a long time and he worried he might have upset her. He was about to tell her to forget it when she spoke up, “Okay, it’s time I stop moping around here.”

Today was going to either be really good, or really, really bad. He hoped for the former. He could really use a few good days. His nerves were shot after the last few weeks and he was starting to worry about buckling under the strain of the responsibility that had been heaped on him all of a sudden.

It wasn’t just taking care of Sekhmet and all that meant. She’d been in no position to take up the running of the estate after Leandra died. Anders had learned very quickly exactly how much work went into running an estate and all the things that it entailed. He’d been very grateful for Bodahn’s assistance.

He felt strange handling Sekhmet’s money, almost like he was doing something wrong. What else could he do though? Someone had to take care of things. 

And he’d nearly choked when he found out exactly how much his beloved was worth. True, the expedition to the Deep Roads had started her on the path to wealth. But, it had been Leandra’s incredible business sense that had grown the bulk of Sekhmet’s fortune. He just hoped he didn’t make too much of a mess of things before Sekhmet could handle dealing with her assets on her own.

He also dealt with all the requests for assistance that kept rolling in. He handed some jobs off to the Underground, farmed some out to Sekhmet’s companions and let others know they wouldn’t be able to help. He’d nearly doubled over with laughter at a letter from Cullen asking for assistance in locating whoever was killing the Templars at night.

Obviously, he’d denied the request. Not that it mattered; Sekhmet was in no shape to go hunting so the “problem” was solved already. He’d worried about Justice becoming insistent and trying to push through and assert himself again, but so far that hadn’t happened.

Plus, with Leandra gone, Orana and Sandal’s schooling also fell to him. He couldn’t just leave the two of them without anyone to teach them. Leandra wouldn’t want that.

Needless to say, when he fell into bed each night he was exhausted: physically, mentally and emotionally. And then when he woke up the next day he repeated to himself over and over again that he could do this, he could stay and take care of her, he could be responsible and run the estate, handle Sekhmet’s affairs and teach as well. He could do all that and more because he loved her. 

And eventually he’d start to believe it again. Only then could he get up and go about his long day. Sekhmet always came first though, her needs and her wants. She was the whole reason he was there. So, if she wanted him by her side every moment of the day that was exactly where he was. And if she needed to be alone, he stayed out of her way, but within earshot in case she needed something.

She moved and straddled his waist, then leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I love you.”

He hummed with pleasure, wrapping his arms around her. “I love you, too.”

She settled her head back down on his shoulder and just lie there. Anders reveled in the contact and the intimacy. It might be days before she let him touch her again. So, he held her close for as long as he could.

Just the simple joy of holding her in his arms, of feeling her against him, was an immense relief. It felt almost normal, as if the past three weeks had just been a nightmare. He inhaled her scent deeply, inundating himself with her. 

He needed these small intimacies between them. They bolstered his spirit and kept him steady. Even frail as she had seemed these last weeks, she was still his only tether to his sanity, his humanity. 

Perhaps he stayed not to take care of her, but because he needed her too much to ever leave her now. He suppressed a shudder and let the dark thought dissipate like smoke. He stayed because he loved her, let that be enough to quiet his mind.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed before he heard her voice again, so soft it was almost a whisper. “I mean it, you know. I really do love you.”

He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, hoping to chase away her melancholy at least for an hour or so. “I know you do, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so awful.”

He took a deep breath, one hand smoothing up and down her back, his other arm wrapped around her tiny waist. “You haven’t been that bad.” 

Before her mother had died, he’d never thought much about her size, other than a little amusement at the thought that she was far too small to be a lioness. But in the last weeks he hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking of her as small and delicate. As if she was fragile. And now, as she lay atop him, the thought struck him again, she was so tiny. It stirred the urge to protect inside him, not that it needed help where she was concerned.

She interrupted his wayward thoughts. “Liar,” a soft giggle sent his heart racing, Maker he’d missed that sound. 

He felt a smile touch his lips and was sure he was grinning like a fool but he didn’t care. The clouds had finally let a ray of sunshine through. His Sekhmet wasn’t gone, just lost. And it looked like she was starting to find her way back home. 

********

Since that trip to the market things had slowly but surely improved. The market had actually been harder on him than it had been on her. She’d kept touching him, reassuring herself he was right there with her and he’d had to fight himself not to stop her. In this case, her need to reassure herself was more important than his desire to keep people from knowing the two of them were intimate.

Not that she was touching him intimately; mostly it was small touches to his arm or his shoulder. Something one could easily pass off as two friends shopping and one of them vying for the other’s attention. They’d done their shopping and returned to the estate quickly, Sekhmet rushing them through the last purchase and hurrying back to the estate.

It had been the aftermath of that trip that had been the hardest for her. She was angry with herself for having a hard time leaving the estate. She’d yelled for over an hour about how irrational she was being and demanding to know what was wrong with her. And she hadn’t been satisfied with any of Anders’ answers. 

Eventually, she’d lost steam, moving to crawl into Anders’ lap. She’d cried against his chest for a long time, soft quiet sobs before even that subsided. He’d held her, stroking her back soothingly. He’d been through enough of these episodes to know better than to say anything. Finally, she calmed and the rest of the day in the estate passed without incident.

After that day she’d begun demanding that Anders force her to leave the estate everyday for at least an hour. He’d done so, happily. It was nice for him to get a break from the monotony of the estate as well. He took her to the merchant’s guild and to the market alternatively, they were both so close.

And eventually, as he knew she would, she’d asked him to take her to see Sebastian. Sebastian had stopped at the house every day since Leandra died, but Anders had only let him in on the few occasions that Sekhmet had been having a good day. And, if he was honest, he’d timed their recent outings for when Sebastian normally stopped by, thus avoiding the situation altogether.

He wasn’t about to deny Sekhmet, though. So he’d taken her, walking close beside her without actually touching her. Her hand brushed his every once in a while, that small measure of reassurance. He was sure most people missed it, she’d become so adept at being subtle for his benefit. Trying to look out for him even when she could barely function herself, was it any wonder she’d completely stolen his heart?

Anders had lingered at Sebastian’s door, struggling with himself as he watched Sebastian sweep his beloved into a hug, cooing over her as if she were some pretty doll. Thankfully, it had been a brief visit, ending with Sebastian’s promise to come see her every day. And he did.

Anders noticed when the prince came to the estate he was careful. He gave Sekhmet a hug when he arrived and another when he left, but didn’t otherwise touch her. He hadn’t fawned over her again as he had done that day at the Chantry. He wouldn’t even share the sofa with Sekhmet. Apparently, he had picked up on Anders’ unease.

The constant exposure led Anders to make a careful truce with the man. Whether he liked the man or not Anders could see he was devoted to Sekhmet and cared for her a great deal. He always asked if there was anything he could do to help Anders. He wanted to protect Sekhmet as she recovered as well.

Sebastian’s visits actually turned out to be a blessing. Even though he wasn’t sure he’d ever exactly like the man, he trusted him to look after and protect Sekhmet. He was more than happy to stay with Sekhmet on the few occasions that Anders needed to leave the estate. 

Though he’d temporarily closed his clinic there were still a few things that needed Anders’ attention, things he’d been neglecting. He’d had a feeling that Sekhmet would be alright being left with Sebastian, though it had wounded his pride a little when she told him to go ahead, she and Sebastian would be fine. He hadn’t been fool enough to trust Sebastian alone with Sekhmet; Bodahn was more than happy to keep a close eye on them both.

When Anders had returned the first time though she’d been pale and ashen, sitting rigid next to Sebastian clutching his hand so hard her fingers were white. She’d run to Anders like a little kid, throwing herself into his arms when he returned. It only took him a moment to realize she had been terrified he wasn’t really coming back. He’d felt so bad he’d almost never done it again. 

She’d apologized profusely and made him promise that he wouldn’t let her stop him from going out when he needed to. Eventually, he had caved and done it again. Sekhmet was a little anxious when he returned, but nothing like the first time. And the third time she’d merely been happy to see him. Seeing Sebastian always seemed to cheer her a little and Anders was begrudgingly grateful for his help with Sekhmet. 

Isabela and Merrill popped in periodically, always together. Izzy, shrewd woman that she was, clearly knew he wouldn’t have let in Merrill alone. He wasn’t even sure why Merrill came, after the incident with the arulin’holm it wasn’t like she and Sekhmet were exactly friends. The pair never stayed long, but it was still nice they came to check in on Sekhmet. And it was good for her to socialize.

Aveline had only come by once. She’d received another verbal thrashing from Sekhmet as well as a not so veiled warning to leave her alone. Aveline had taken the rant in stride, responding graciously and immediately leaving. Anders almost felt bad for Aveline. In all likelihood, Sekhmet would never forgive what she saw as the shortcomings of the guard and especially Aveline.

Varric and Fenris both came by fairly regularly. Anders was always glad when Varric came for a visit. Sekhmet seemed the most like herself when he was around. He managed to make her smile and even laugh on occasion. 

As for Fenris, Anders stayed out of sight, but within earshot when he came by. Sekhmet hadn’t gotten back around to teaching him to read yet, but the elf didn’t seem to mind. During the first couple weeks after Leandra’s death Fenris had tried, without success, to get Sekhmet to leave the estate.

It was during those first few weeks too that Fenris had tried to broach the subject of Anders with Sekhmet. She’d interrupted him before he’d finished his sentence, talking about how much she owed to Anders. Telling him how Anders had been taking care of her. And how Anders was now the only family she had. Anders had been both thrilled and slightly terrified by her staunch belief in him. Fenris had left, quiet and defeated, shortly thereafter.

After that Fenris came less and less often and stayed for shorter and shorter periods of time. And each time he left the estate he looked dejected and lost. It was easy to see Sekhmet’s sadness and grief tugged at him and troubled him deeply. 

But, he had no words to make it better for her. None of them did. Anders had the feeling Fenris felt useless. Without an actual enemy he could fight, Fenris seemed at a bit of a loss.

When he eventually got Sekhmet to walk as far as Fenris’ estate, even if she was cursing at him by time they got there, she had wanted to go in and say hello. What they found was not a pretty sight. 

Fenris was so drunk he could barely stand and his mansion was in shambles. There was broken glass and wood everywhere as if he had gone through and smashed everything he could get his hands on. Anders had quickly steered Sekhmet out of there, scared for her safety and wondering if Fenris’ current state had to do with Sekhmet. 

Later, Isabela had confessed that Fenris had been like that for weeks. Occasionally, he would sober up and go see Sekhmet, but other than that he was pretty much constantly intoxicated. He’d been thrown out of the Hanged Man several times for fighting. Varric and she were doing what they could, but he refused to even see them most of the time. 

Anders almost envied Fenris. He was allowed to fall apart when Anders was not. And Fenris hadn’t even really known Leandra. So, while Anders was juggling all of his new responsibilities, mourning Leandra, and watching the woman he loved become a shadow of herself, Fenris was losing himself to alcohol and self pity.

While Sekhmet was feeling as if she had failed her mother, Fenris was feeling as if he had failed Sekhmet. And thought he was continuing to fail her because he didn’t know how to help her. It was a sick, morbid little circle.

Once Fenris realized Sekhmet was taking trips to his mansion he did make an effort to get sober, or at least not to be falling down drunk in case she showed up. There was only one other time Anders escorted her home immediately, feeling it was too dangerous for them to stay after the first. Each time they visited Anders stayed in the room with them remaining by the door, even though Fenris never acknowledged him at all, while the two of them spoke awkwardly. They never stayed long, mostly because she and Fenris didn’t seem to know what to say to each other. 

Anders had the impression seeing Fenris in such a state triggered Sekhmet’s guilt again. She always took too much responsibility for things. She probably blamed herself for Fenris’ behavior even though he was a grown man.

He worked with her everyday, getting her out of the house for at least a little walk. Even still, it was almost two months before Sekhmet would leave Hightown. And Anders didn’t push her. She’d lost her whole family, in one way or another, in less than a decade and it was as if she was mourning them all, feeling their loss all at once.

When she did start leaving Hightown she decided to start taking jobs again. She tried to keep herself busy, taking up almost any job that was requested of her. It often left her exhausted; there were many occasions where Anders carried her up to their room when she had fallen asleep in a chair at dinner, the poor girl.

She usually insisted on dragging Fenris along as well. He knew she wanted to help Fenris and nothing he said would dissuade her, so he kept his mouth shut. Until, Fenris turned up stinking of wine. He’d pulled Fenris aside and ever so politely informed the reeking elf that he was on his own if something happened, and that if Sekhmet was hurt because he was a drunken ass he’d make sure Fenris paid for it for a long, long time. Fenris had mumbled something that sounded almost like an apology and it never happened again. 

After that Anders and he learned to completely ignore each other on those seemingly endless jobs. It was the only way to help Sekhmet and not make her life more difficult. She was the one thing they could both agree on, neither of them wanted to upset her.

During the entire ordeal after Leandra’s passing Justice had become unusually quiet. His thoughts rarely touched Anders’, and he didn’t try to come through at all. Anders could feel him though. Justice was watching them, silently, but watching them very carefully, nonetheless. 

Anders wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for the reprieve or worried about the consequences. He did know he didn’t want Justice hurting Sekhmet. For that reason and so many others Anders needed to learn how to better control the spirit within him.

And so while he was taking care of Sekhmet, looking after the estate, and all the various other tasks he was juggling he was trying to pay attention to those times when Justice seemed to feel the most calm, the farthest from the surface. He remembered those moments, everything about them that he could. At night while Sekhmet was asleep beside him he would light a candle and write down everything, the way he felt, what he was doing, what he was thinking and how Sekhmet was feeling.

As the weeks went by he realized that when Sekhmet was having a particularly rough day, when she was feeling particularly sad, particularly depressed, Justice was closest to the surface but he felt very calm, especially attentive, but very calm. And when Anders was calm, content, he could barely feel Justice at all. But when Anders was agitated and angry he could feel Justice right under his skin, his skin sometimes even shimmered with the sky blue of Justice’s spirit fire, but he never actually came out, never suppressed Anders’ will.

Justice seemed content to let Anders take care of Sekhmet for whatever reason. And that was exactly what Anders did; he cared for Sekhmet, loved her and enjoyed each moment with her. He kept to himself his growing concern over Justice and tried to use what he was learning to better understand Justice and how to control him.

********

Justice knew what Anders was doing, how could he not? He knew Anders’ mind as he had always known his own. It did not bother him that Anders was trying to control him; he understood that he had frightened everyone when he had lost control with the mage girl Ella. And he had compounded the problem a thousand fold when he had nearly killed Hawke in the Deep roads while Corypheus ate at Anders’ mind. 

That had been a learning experience for Justice. It was the first time Anders had ever fought for control and won. And he had done it with such force Justice had been left reeling feeling off balance and a little confused for days.

Anders did not seem to remember precisely what had happened and Justice was content to leave it that way. Justice realized now he could have handled the situation in the Deep Roads better. He’d reacted as a frightened animal lashing out. A small piece of him had realized it would be good if they could kill Hawke, blame it on Corypheus eating at Anders’ mind, but mostly he was scared and angry.

He had watched worry gnawing at him, as the bond between Hawke and Anders grew. He saw Anders’ fear fading and knew it was only a matter of time before Anders gave in completely. Hawke was kind and attentive to Anders, and Anders lapped it up like Ser-Pounce-A-Lot had lapped up cream at the Keep. 

Perhaps that was Justice’s fault. He hadn’t realized how important kindness and affection were to Anders. He had assumed Anders would learn to adjust. By withholding it Anders only seemed to crave it more. And since the only person Anders knew who was brave enough to lavish such things upon him was Hawke, it stood to reason Anders would become attached to her. It was as much Justice’s fault as anyone else’s that Anders had fallen in love with her.

So, Justice had been angry and scared. Angry and scared that an outside influence, Corypheus, was trying to control Anders. Angry and scared that Anders was going to take Hawke as a lover and there was nothing he could do about it. Angry and scared that it was his fault Anders had fallen for Hawke in the first place. And it had swelled inside him, rushing him to the fore like a great tidal wave.

That great fear response had made him do something not even Hawke had been brave enough to ask about since. He had clutched at ancient magics, things most humans no longer remembered and he called forth shades. Anders had recoiled inside him with fear and disgust. And Hawke’s eyes had looked pained.

He had a brief moment, not quite, but close to clarity where he regretted upsetting Anders so much by using such old magic. Not wanting to compound the problem further, he decided to ignore his first inclination to kill Hawke, heeding Anders’ request. Instead, he turned his gaze upon the dwarf and the other mage. Even now, he could not say exactly why, other than he was frightened and furious and they were there, convenient targets to lash out at. It had not been a very noble moment for him.

But Anders’ woman had other plans. 

She’d jumped on him, hit him and when that failed she managed to cut off the flow of blood to his brain. A new raw fury had surged through him and he had forgotten why he had heeded Anders’ pleas at all. He wanted her dead; he wanted her to hurt, to feel pain. She needed to pay for everything she had done, the distractions she had caused, the pain she caused Anders, and for attacking him. 

And so he had unleashed the lightning. He had enjoyed the sounds of her screaming until Anders had fought back. Anders had been like a rabid beast snapping and snarling with a raw and pure rage that had stunned Justice. 

It had been terribly unpleasant, like dirty, sharp, and ragged fingernails clawing at his mind. Ripping and tearing at him, jerking him back. At first it had just been this blinding pain around the edges. Then suddenly, as if Anders had finally managed a good grip, he felt as if he was physically thrown backwards. Leaving him curled up on the floor in a dark space, confused. 

Perhaps, it was his ferocity; the likes of which he hadn’t even unleashed on the Templars before, that had made Anders want to forget the incident. Anders preferred to think of himself as a healer, and such an onslaught, even strangely self inflicted as it was, would not be something he would want to associate himself with, even if he had done it to save Hawke.

Anders had managed to save the woman he loved from death, but just barely. It had taken him days to nurse her back just to consciousness, even with his incredible healing ability. Justice had been more than a little surprised that even after that Hawke had welcomed Anders not only into her bed but into her home.

Anders’ woman had been a constant source of trouble and confusion since they had met her. Justice had thought he understood Hawke from the first few moments they had known her. She was brash, shallow and needy. Anders was a prize to her, something to win and use as she wanted and he had thought Anders a fool for falling for her. 

But there were brief moments between the two of them that made him wonder, moments in the clinic when Hawke was kind and caring to patients and deferential to Anders. She had left Anders alone when he had asked for a break to the point that she had not only a fairly severe injury but a nasty infection to go along with it. The way she had looked after Anders in the Deep Roads while he struggled against Corypheus had baffled Justice.

And when Anders had offered her a night of sex, the very thing Justice had assumed the girl wanted, she had left the clinic near tears. That had perhaps been the most perplexing thing of all. She had pursued Anders relentlessly for years only to cry and leave when he offered to give her what she wanted.

At first Justice had thought her mad, but as he sifted through Anders’ thoughts he realized that he had been wrong. She had apparently been looking for more than the opportunity to fornicate with Anders. She had wanted some sort of relationship with him, a continued closeness and companionship that Justice could only really understand in terms of husband and wife. And even those words held only a vague meaning to him.

Anders had seemed to want the same thing. Which was why, Justice had been so confused by Anders’ offer of “just sex”. Justice had known that Anders’ feelings for her went deeper than just wanting to bed her. He struggled to understand Anders’ erratic thoughts of the night as his friend alternately cursed himself, Justice and fate. And Justice had watched fascinated as Anders cried in his small room. 

He could make little sense of Anders’ relationship with Hawke. 

In the last few weeks, while Hawke so clearly needed comfort, Justice often thought back to the early weeks. To the time when Hawke had sought comfort from Anders after they had first met the pirate woman Anders called Izzy. Anders had wanted to hold Hawke but had refrained, not wanting to create too much intimacy between them. 

And even though Justice could hardly tolerate Hawke he had wondered, briefly, what it would be like to hold her and had almost compelled Anders to do so, just so he could feel it. There were so many things about mortals he did not understand. There were drives and desires that Anders had that Justice desperately wanted to understand and to experience.

Yet, when Anders’s resolve had finally crumbled and he kissed Hawke after their second excursion into the Deep Roads Justice had been afraid for them to go to her. Not just because he was still feeling weak and a bit dazed from his tussle with Anders, but the flood of pleasure and desire that had swept through Anders had been incredible and more than a little frightening. There was so much information, sensory and otherwise that Justice had struggled to understand it.

He could feel Anders’ desire and love for Hawke and it worried him a little. Yes, the woman would be a distraction, she had been one since the first day they had known her, but more than that it was pushing Justice into new realms of emotions he wasn’t sure he was equipped to handle. Especially with the intensity that Anders was experiencing them.

He’d argued with Anders and tried to keep him away from Hawke; at least until he could understand what was happening better. He had grilled Anders with questions trying to understand. Anders, feeling he had already lost too much time with Hawke had finally called it to a halt. He told Justice he would rather die than live without loving Hawke for another day. And what could Justice say to that?

So off they went, to take Hawke as their lover. Justice had hidden, as much as he could, when Anders went to her. Even still, each time their skin touched flares of sensation rocked through Justice, things he’d never dreamed of. 

He trembled in awe, knowing how much sensation he missed out on when he was not in control. He could barely comprehend what he was feeling, let alone what he might feel if he were the one touching Hawke. He’d nearly come forward, not really meaning too, when Anders began kissing Hawke’s scars. Each one was a bright flare of color on her soul that had called to something deep inside Justice.

Justice tried to stay away, tried to stay hidden in the background when Anders and Hawke lie together as lovers, but it was not always easy. With the sensations from being touched so often, to be able to see Anders and Hawke together but never fully experience it became a new torment. He could slip through easy enough, could let himself feel their bonding but it did not seem appropriate. And when Anders had caught a stray thought regarding it he had been adamantly opposed to it. So Justice watched and wanted, but only with the vaguest sense of what it was he was missing.

And now, on the long days when Hawke did not want to be touched, Justice found he missed it as much as Anders. The realization had been both humbling and vaguely frightening. How much time and circumstances had changed them both.

Each day in this estate with her he felt like he understood Hawke more, especially since the death of her mother. She used the loud, brash and crass behaviors much as Anders had used his humor for years. She used them to hide herself behind, to hide her pain and suffering, to hide her loneliness and guilt, her shame. It was no wonder that Anders cared for her so much. She was, as the mortals said, a kindred spirit.

As Justice watched Anders care for Hawke he became increasingly fascinated with the girl. The depth and breadth of her pain struck Justice, a reminder of his days in the Wardens. Since joining with Anders he had felt all sorts of pain, both emotional and physical. 

And no matter how many of them he had experienced, he still thought them beautiful. Yes, he was torn when Anders felt pain. He did not want his friend to suffer, but even from within, feeling the pain himself, he still found Anders to be profoundly beautiful in his suffering. Anders, after so many years in the tower was so very good at suffering. It had become part of who he was.

Mortal senses missed so much. Anders was aware that Hawke had experienced pain, and hurt, and sadness in her life. And he knew that the pain and sadness she felt now was terrible and ran deep, unfathomable was the word that kept ringing in Anders’ mind. 

But Justice could see her with different eyes, she was layers of pain. There were years and years of pain and torment buried inside of her. Her heartache and loneliness rivaled even Anders’. And every layer built upon the previous one, each layer a new and more beautiful color than the last, all of it interwoven with the vibrant hues of her scars. 

She was an artwork like no other and he could not help but watch, fascinated and awed.

********

Sekhmet wondered if Anders had any idea how often his skin shimmered blue or his eyes hazed over. She wasn’t afraid of Justice; she was concerned for Anders though. But, for now, Justice seemed content to linger near the surface. It had been months since he had slipped through completely.

Justice watched silently as Anders tried to piece her back together, his constant presence becoming almost as comforting as Anders’. She found herself starting to think of Justice like a guardian watching over her and Anders for some reason. Not that she had any reason to think he despised her any less than he ever had. And it wasn’t exactly like she was thinking clearly.

 

She’d lost her mind when her mother died. She couldn’t think straight, could barely focus and couldn’t seem to make herself leave the comfort of the estate her mother had furnished and decorated turning it into a home.

She let herself skate through in a hazy numbness until grief grabbed at her again. Over the weeks she must have cried buckets of tears. And that fear, that one little fear she had shoved down again and again, hiding beneath a thick coat of bravado had sprouted into a mighty oak overnight.

And now it seemed to have tied her tight, leaving her paralyzed and unable to function. Only Anders’ constant, steady presence seemed to alleviate it at all. Without him she was so terribly alone, maybe she was meant to be. She’d failed all those she had loved and so they had left her alone. The feelings were hard to shake; she couldn’t seem to pry her way free. 

And if she didn’t find a way out of the dark tomb she’d encased herself in since her mother’s death, she would lose Anders too. He’d get sick of her weakness and fear and he’d leave. Which, was no less than she deserved if she could no longer be the woman he’d fallen in love with, strong and fearless.

She didn’t want to deal with the world. And why should she? The world was filled with ugliness, and pain and nothing she ever did could ever change that, could ever fix it. The world would always be filled with Templars and Darkspawn and mages, would always be filled with pain, and regret, “almosts” and “maybes”. 

Monsters would continue to walk the earth and the Deep Roads beneath while her family was gone forever. So why not hide here in this estate and tell the world to go fuck itself? Why not curl up with her pain and misery and fade away?

And she would have, but there was that one golden thread wasn’t there? 

That one thing that glittered like a diamond in the sun and stopped her from letting go completely. Anders…the poor man who had captured her heart.

She’d probably end up condemning him too, but she couldn’t let him go. Even the thought of it took her breath away. She’d begged him silently for weeks, “Pull me out of the darkness, Anders, please.” But he hadn’t heard her. 

He’d coddled her in her despair and madness. He’d watched her with big, sad, brown eyes as she twisted and sank further and further into a grief borne lunacy. And she’d let it happen, reveling in the emptiness of it all.

At least until he had finally asked her for something. 

He’d found her standing outside her mother’s room, cheek pressed against the door. He’d slipped his hand into hers, squeezing it lightly as he pushed open the door and walked her inside. She knew she had to go in there, had to face it sooner or later but hadn’t been able to on her own.

She followed him in, nearly collapsing as she crossed the threshold and a wave of pain crashed over her. His arms, strong and sure slipped around her waist and held her back against him, supporting her. He walked her across the room and when she came to her mother’s bed she slipped from his hold and crawled into it, sobs shaking her body as her mother’s scent enveloped her.

He settled on the bed beside her, stroking her back and running his fingers over her hair, soothing her without saying a word. Eventually, she’d cried herself out and fallen silent. He had thought she was asleep, whispering into the darkness, his voice thick and hoarse with obvious pain. “Come back to me, love.”

Five words, just five tiny, little words. Maybe it was ridiculous, but it was enough. A flickering candle to light her path up the long, winding staircase out of the darkness and back to him. 

Her emotions ranged all over on her journey out of the dark: anger, frustration, desperation, indifference, and everything in between. She put everyone in that household through the Void and back as she tried to resurface. How they didn’t all riot and leave she would never know. 

Anders had been wonderful over the months since her mother’s death. Something had torn free inside of her and she wasn’t sure it could ever be put to rights, but with Anders’ help and patience she was able to let some of the pain go, bit by bit. Every day she was more grateful for him and more afraid he would leave.

She had become too dependent on him, asked for too much from him, but couldn’t stop herself even when she saw the strain it put on him. She really couldn’t function without him anymore. Each morning she woke up her heart pounding fast and hard in her chest until she saw him lying next to her, still in bed even if he was awake because she had awoken the entire her estate several times with her panicked screams for him when she’d awakened alone and thought he’d finally left her.

She could see him chafe at it, all the responsibility that had been heaped upon him while she tried to find herself again. Though he was clearly struggling, he did his best to be positive around her. And to always have a smile on those beautiful lips of his for her. 

He never complained when she didn’t want to be touched, even for days at a time. And he never complained when she needed him to constantly touch her, to never be more than an arm’s length away.

He beared it all with a grace Sekhmet hadn’t known he possessed. 

When he finally managed to get her out of the estate he’d been patient and sweet. When she’d returned home and lost her temper, confused and angry about why she was holing up inside the estate he had soothed her as best he could. And when she’d broken down after they returned to the estate he had held her without a word while she had cried herself out. 

She decided then that enough was enough. Letting go of her grief wasn’t going to be enough. She would get her head on straight and find that woman Anders had fallen in love with. He didn’t deserve to be stuck with this lost, confused, and pathetic woman. He’d called her his lioness once and she would be her again for him.

Some days were better than others. When she made it to Fenris’ mansion she’d been proud of herself, until she’d seen her friend. It had only taken a moment to realize his inebriated state was because of her. She’d been incredibly thankful when Anders had dragged her out of there.

And the first time Anders left the estate without her she’d been ashamed by her reaction. She’d been fine at first, but as the day wore on she became more and more convinced Anders wasn’t coming back and nothing Sebastian or Bodahn said convinced her otherwise. As soon as she’d seen Anders she ran to him, throwing herself into his arms, fighting back tears. 

Of course, in retrospect she was horrified and embarrassed at her lack of composure, but Anders had just held her and smiled. And when he told her he missed her she’d been thrilled. He told her almost daily he wasn’t going to leave, as long as she’d still have him. Hopefully, she could shake the rest of this morbid, pathetic excuse for a life she was living now and she’d believe he wanted to stay. She could see that her doubt was hurting him.

In the meantime, she was increasingly grateful for Anders and all he did for her. It was a long journey back, and a part of her would never heal. But when she was exhausted or thought she couldn’t possibly do anymore, couldn’t face even another day, Anders was beside her, encouraging her. He’d tell her how strong and brave she was, somehow convincing her of it even when she felt weak and cowardly. He was amazing.

He even helped her to hide how unready she felt to face the world when they started taking jobs again. When they were still, or a fight had finished, he would stand close to her so she could touch him, just a finger brush or a hip, just enough to reassure herself that she was not alone, that he was still with her. It was ridiculous, she knew, but only Anders made her feel as if she wasn’t alone.

Once when they had finished a job that had not gone particularly well she had felt overwhelmed and lost, the emotions too much for her to handle in her somewhat still fragile state. She was on the verge of crying when Anders grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. Sekhmet had looked up at him in surprise as he tipped her chin up to kiss her. He had held her there against him, kissing her soft and gentle until the urge to cry passed.

She’d had no words. She knew how much he hated public displays of affection because it drew attention to the two of them, but he had kissed her there in the middle of Lowtown to save her from embarrassing herself. When he pulled away he had touched her cheek gently and mouthed “I love you,” no sound leaving his lips. His tenderness had nearly sent her to tears again.

Sekhmet could find no words to thank Anders so many times during the first months after her mother’s death. She thanked him as much as he allowed her to. She piled gifts on him, trying to show her gratitude. And even though he eventually learned to accept them without an argument, her gifts, her words and her touches never seemed enough to her. 

She really had no idea how to thank him for saving her. He might not have seen himself as a hero, but to her he was. She had no doubt she would have died without him. She would have withered away forever in that estate. Or, she would have gotten piss drunk before looking for a fight and would have wound up dead in the gutter.

She cherished falling asleep every night in his arms, every morning she awoke beside him and every moment in between. Even with her family gone, she felt that with Anders by her side she could face anything. Anders was the piece of her soul that had been missing all her life.


	48. In Your Arms

He hadn’t been living with her for quite a year when his secret came out, tumbling out of his own mouth no less. She had been teasing him, just being playful something he hadn’t seen in her since her mother’s death. Anders’ body had immediately responded and he had followed her eagerly up the stairs. Sweet Maker he needed this, needed her.

Before they reached their room everything had changed. She mentioned something about her afternoon with Isabela, an idea that never failed to fill Anders’ head with all sorts of very…wrong images. They’d spent the afternoon in the library, planning their next escapade. Was it odd that the addition of books aroused him even more? He’d been worried about needing to use magic to control himself, to make sure he didn’t finish too quickly.

They were right outside the bedroom door when it happened. She made a joke about Justice smiting her, and Anders felt it shift inside of him like a switch. He shoved her roughly against the wall, and she cried out in surprise, he had never been rough with her. 

He pinned her there. Holding her still, he closed his eyes trying to get control or at least clarity. His body very obviously wanted one thing; even now he was grinding himself against her. But he was angry, he wanted, needed to make sure she understood exactly how dangerous Justice was. She never had the good sense to fear him.

Pressing close to her, his forehead resting on the wall next to her head, his voice low and ragged, he told her, all of it, or as much as he could remember. “Do you want to know why I left Ferelden?”

There was nothing but silence; he had her attention at least.

He continued, the words grating against his throat like jagged glass. “I left a field of dead Wardens and Templars there. When Justice and I…joined,” sweet Andraste, this was harder than he imagined, “we were betrayed by a Templar, an ex-Templar, a Warden.” 

He took another breath, determined to make it through this. He never imagined telling her the truth would hurt so much, or that he would be so bloody terrified of losing her. He never imagined he’d still be so angry with himself. “He called the Templars to kill me, calling me an abomination.” He shifted his weight, still pinning her against the wall, but no longer aroused, the horrific images from that day leeching the arousal away in a blink. “I killed them…all of them.”

He could feel her heart racing in her chest, could feel her fingers digging into his arms as he spoke. Good, it was about time she understood what he really was, what he was capable of.

Almost there, but the worst was yet to come. _“Forgive me my love, please. I couldn’t take it if you left me.”_ Another deep breathe, a quick prayer to a Maker he knew didn’t really exsist in any real sense, and he carried on. “Most of them didn’t die by magic, Justice and I ripped them apart. There was blood…everywhere.” Was that halting voice really his? “Body parts, limbs, lay scattered over the ground. I didn’t look closely but I think…I think I bit some of them, tore pieces apart with my teeth.”

Her body jerked against him and she gasped in shock. He held her still, he wasn’t done yet.

“I don’t really remember doing it, but I remember the blood. I remember thinking that it looked worse than any battlefield I had ever seen. And as a Warden I saw my fair share. I ripped men apart with my hands, Sekhmet, grown men, _in armor_. Do you understand?” His anger finally seeped away replaced with more pain, more self loathing, he felt near tears. 

And terrified, so fucking scared he would lose her now. Now she would see him for what he was, now she would know that all those times he had told her he was a monster he had been telling the truth. No matter what happened, at least he had experienced love once. 

The thought curdled inside him. No, he would fix it; somehow, someway he would fix this. He would be lost without her, empty. He needed her as much as she needed him, maybe more. 

She thought he had taken care of her for the last few months, but it had been her who had kept him anchored. Without her he wasn’t a man, wasn’t human. She was the only real strength he had.

Her voice was quiet and a long time in coming, “Yes”

He couldn’t move away from her, he wasn’t sure if he was pinning her or leaning against her for support at that point. “Don’t ever joke about something like that, it’s not funny. The idea of hurting you or worse…it just…I couldn’t take it.”

Maker, he was so damned weak. Why had he pulled her into the pit that was his life? He was a viscous murderer and didn’t deserve love. He was a sick and twisted man, who had warped a spirit into something very akin to a demon. He ran away from the Wardens. And when it all became too much to bear he had turned to Sekhmet.

Took the love she offered and clung to it. Maybe if she could love him he wasn’t completely lost, wasn’t a complete waste of life. He hated himself for his bad decisions, for his weaknesses, for his short sightedness. 

How could she possibly love him now? Now that she knew what he was and what he had done. That he had run away to save himself, to hide, not out of any real desire to save mages. Justice had pulled them to that later. He had run away, like he always did, because he was weak, he was a coward.

Feeling shattered inside, he felt her hand stroking his hair, then the gentle touch of her lips against his cheek. “Alright love, I’m sorry.” She turned his head and kissed him, a gentle press of her lips against his. 

Anders shuddered, eyes still closed. He couldn’t look at her. How could she? How could she possibly be so gentle with him? “What are you doing?” His voice was strained, emotion threatening to swallow it completely.

She kissed him again gently, her hands touching his face in a tender caress. “Look at me.”

He didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see what was waiting in her eyes. Because he already knew what he would find there, forgiveness. Always, always and always, she had said it and had meant it. She was a slave to her need for him as much as he was a slave to Justice. 

It wasn’t right, he didn’t deserve forgiveness. He had slaughtered those men. They never even had a chance. But her fingers were pulling at him again, tilting his head, brushing her lips softly across his skin.

“Please Anders, look at me.” She pleaded quietly.

And though he knew he didn’t deserve it, he very badly wanted her forgiveness. He would never forgive himself, but perhaps hers would quench some of the pain those memories pulled from him. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

She caught his gaze, “I love you.”

He winced and tried to pull away, he never knew that being loved could hurt so much. 

She took his hand and kissed each of his fingertips. “I love you.”

“Stop.” He choked out, this was even worse than her forgiveness. He hadn’t expected such openness to her face, such acceptance of what he had just confessed to.

She took his other hand and kissed those fingertips as well. “I love you.” 

A simple ploy, kissing the very instruments he had just confessed to brutally murdering people with. Showing him with actions what was written all over her face. Forgiveness, acceptance of anything and everything that he was, that he could possibly ever do. She was impossible, a miracle, fate’s finest torture.

His eyes welled up, he wanted to pull away from her but felt caught. Her words stunned him, jolted through him body and soul. “How?”, his voice was plaintive, strained.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Anders, all of you.”

And there it was ‘all of you’ words almost as damning as ‘always’. He felt his knees buckling and she slid down to the floor with him. “I’m a monster.” It was barely above a whisper. Why couldn’t she see what he really was?

“You’re a man.” She stroked his cheek, soothing him. “What you did, doesn’t define who, what you are. It is something you did. Choose to be something else if you want.”

Now she was making excuses, was there no end to what she would do to convince herself he was worthy of love? “I haven’t changed, that girl…that poor mage.”

Her eyes were clear and held his and he could feel her beseeching him to listen. “You did change, you didn’t hurt her, didn’t let Justice hurt her.”

He hadn’t hurt the mage girl, had terrified her but hadn’t hurt her. “Only because of you.” It had been her voice breaking through the fog that saved that poor girl.

She stroked his cheek again, and he barely stopped himself from turning into her touch. “Would me being in that field have made any difference?”

He thought for a long moment, would her voice have calmed him then, pulled him to the surface? “No.” he finally said.

“Then it’s something.” 

“I don’t deserve you.” Need her, need her so damn much it hurts. It was a madness between them, not just love but a deep rooted madness and he didn’t care. Never give her up, never. He could have sworn he heard an animalistic growl in the back of his head, _“mine”_.

She gave him a small smile. “We seldom get what we deserve.” She took a deep breath, “I won’t lose you Anders, not to the Templars and not to your demons, real or imagined.” She stood and pulled him with her.

The knot in his chest unfurled, it didn’t matter that it was wrong, didn’t matter that it was twisted. For good or ill they were locked together now, two halves of the same whole. And woe to anyone who tried to hurt her, or to tear them apart; he really would drown Kirkwall in blood, the whole world if that’s what it took. Always. 

His eyes skirted over her, drinking her in when he suddenly remembered shoving her against the wall. His heart skipped a beat; just what would he do if he were the one to hurt her? “Did I…hurt you?” 

A shy little smile painted her lips. “Actually, I was enjoying it…right up until the confession.” 

He watched her as she blushed. “I’ll have to remember that.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to tease her or to find the easy playfulness they could only find with each other. But he didn’t need to let his confession hang like a cloud over them either. And for now the madness was past, if not forgotten. “Now what?”

“MMmm, I could use a good cuddle, how about you?”

Anders couldn’t help but smile; he was living with the only woman in Thedas who would want to cuddle after a confession like that. Not that he was complaining. “I think that sounds good.” They spent most of the rest of the evening cuddling and talking about Justice.

********

Justice rose slowly, gently to the surface not wanting to wake Anders’ consciousness. He did not want Anders to wake now. He opened Anders’ eyes, fighting the oddly unsettled feeling at Anders’ nudity. No matter how many times he took control of Anders’ body while it was in this state it always felt strange and he did not particularly care for it.

A small spell slipped from Anders’ fingers. Justice had learned quickly that he needed to spell Hawke to keep her sleeping. She started to stir almost immediately when he left the bed otherwise. He felt a small ripple of regret that she would not be joining him tonight, a feeling that had become familiar over the weeks. 

He slipped from the bed dressing quickly, and pulling on Anders’ new armor. Justice liked the new armor; it was more befitting a warrior than Anders’ old coat. As for the mask, he slipped it on over his head before moving to the window. Unlatching it, he pushed it open eyeing the street below.

When he was sure no one was looking he jumped, landing easily in a crouch in the dark alley. He checked Anders’ bare fingertips and found them unharmed. Pleased, he stood and started his hunt.

He had not dared to leave the estate for almost a week. Bodahn nearly caught him returning last week. Besides, Hawke was doing much better and he had hoped he would not need to go out on his own. Eventually, as had been happening since her mother’s death, he became impatient.

He was trying to give Anders the time he needed to help Hawke heal. In order to do that, however, he needed to take care of the Templars on his own. He needed to make at least a small impact in helping the mages. Anders had flatly refused to hunt without Hawke and had forbidden Justice from inviting her. Going so far as to illicit a promise Justice had not wanted to give.

Justice was beginning to struggle with anger towards Anders. He would not let Justice touch Hawke, and now he would not even let Justice speak with her? What right did he have to demand such things from Justice?

Hawke had never seemed to have a problem speaking with him. But, Justice was inexperienced with such things and doubted himself. Perhaps, he had missed something. So for now, he deferred to Anders’ wishes.

Hunting on his own left him with a lot of time to think. Like, why did he want Hawke to join him? At first he had thought it was just that he knew she enjoyed it as well. The first time he had killed a Templar without her there he had become utterly disgusted with himself.

He was disappointed not to have her smile approvingly at him. He was literally older than dirt, yet he was looking for a fragile mortal’s approval? It was nonsense.

He could not deny the truth as time went on. He enjoyed hunting Templars more when she was there. Not only for the approval but she made a game of it, made it fun. On his own it just felt like another job.

Without her with him he just killed the Templars quickly, took what he wanted and moved on. It was quick and clean. There was no reading Hawke for her mood and doing what he thought she would like.

Only the absence of it made him wonder why he ever did that to begin with. Was it just that Anders wanted to please her? Clearly, that was not it. Anders, although he never felt bad for the Templars, was often disgusted with the things Hawke and Justice did to them. Which left him with the uncomfortable realization that he was the one who wanted to please her.

Why did he want to please her? He was not sure. Maybe he wanted to make up for trying to kill her. Or maybe Anders’ woman was more dangerous than Justice had ever realized.

It took a while for him to figure out, but the nights of hunting alone afforded him plenty of time to think. Eventually, unable to lie, even to himself, he had to make a big and uncomfortable admission. He liked Hawke.

The night he had admitted that to himself he had killed a half dozen Templars before he felt satisfied enough to return to the estate. He had been angry with Hawke. How had she managed to turn his contempt into this?

When he returned to the estate and settled back into the bed Anders shared with her he had still been angry. Yet, when his gaze fell on her his anger melted away into that odd awe he felt when looking at her lately. Even as exhausted as she clearly was, dark circles marring the skin under her eyes, she was beautiful.

The pain, which Justice had somehow never managed to clearly see in her before, made her beautiful. Even now, even with her recovering from her grief, he could not seem to unsee it. And he did not want to, she really was exquisite.

His attention was pulled by the familiar metallic clank of Templar armor. Anders had spent enough time around Templars that he could distinguish it from any other armor by sound alone. It sounded like there were two of them.

There were always at least two of them lately. The Knight Commander had apparently started making them work together in reaction to so many Templars going missing or being found dead. Perhaps it made sense to the Knight Commander, but it had not deterred Justice. Two was barely more of a challenge than one.

He could handle them easily enough alone. In fact, he could probably kill them both before he ever saw them. He did not hear anyone else, but he would not risk that they were escorting a mage who might be inadvertently injured or blamed.

He slid deeper into the alley and dimmed the light seeping from Anders’ skin as much as he could. As the two Templars reached the mouth of the alley Justice made a quick grab at them with magic, pulling them in. He held one pinned against the wall with a little force magic while he snapped the other’s neck.

He dropped the first and grabbed the second and dispatched him as well. He dug through their pouches, taking what he needed. Then ripped a small piece of brass from each of their armor and headed back towards the estate.

He had done his part, however small, this night to help the mages. And whether Anders realized it or not he was helping him as well. Anders assumed if the Templar deaths stopped that would be the end of the investigation. But Justice was not so sure.

If the Templars realized the deaths stopped while Hawke was grieving it would leave her as a suspect. However, if they continued while everyone knew she was grieving it would turn suspicion from her. Which, was especially important, as most people were all too aware of how much Hawke despised Templars.

It took him longer than he planned to return to the estate. Staying out of sight of the guards was as important as leaving no Templars alive. The guards might not completely understand who or what he was, but if they reported what they had seen to the Guard Captain she certainly would. And Justice would not put it past the woman to turn Anders in to the Templars. The Guard Captain was more concerned with what was law than with what was just.

Finally, back outside the window to the room Anders shared with Hawke he was glad to see it was still open, as he had left it. Justice wove a quick silence spell before crouching. He jumped, landing in the second story window. He stepped down quickly into the room.

Pulling off the mask he drank a healing potion that he had taken off one of the Templars. He had learned there were things he could do with Anders’ body that Anders could not. However, there was a price Anders paid for Justice’s rough usage. He was often sore for days, which could leave him wondering exactly why he was sore. 

The first time Justice had pushed Anders’ body past its usual limits Anders had awoken so sore he had barely been able to move. He had to heal himself just to get up. He had been understandably confused and worried about what had happened to his body especially when Justice had remained silent on the subject. 

Justice had not been able to understand why Anders would be sore. Bladed weapons did not affect Anders if Justice was the one struck. It made no sense to him, but it was not as if he had experienced being merged with a living mortal body before. And he did not want to leave Anders hurting so, still frustratingly unable to heal, he had to resort to healing potions.

The unhampered time in control of Anders’ body led Justice to several discoveries. He might not be able to heal but without Anders’ consciousness restricting him he found he had access to a much larger pool of mana than Anders did. Justice wasn’t sure whether Anders’ consciousness was an actual physical limitation or if it was just Anders’ belief that limited the supply.

While in control of Anders’ body he could dim the light of his spirit fire, but nothing he seemed to try would extinguish it. He had no idea why Anders’ skin cracked and light flooded through when he was in control. Kristoff’s body had done no such thing. It was inconvenient, to say the least, when he hunting on his own.

He never brought Anders’ staff with him when he hunted, he much preferred the feeling of channeling spells through himself. Granted, he missed having weapons, but he was working on that. He had nearly mastered creating a workable shield from magic, not just a normal arcane shield, but one with the shape and heft of a real shield. The blade was proving more difficult but he had no doubt that in time he would master it.

Being able to conjure a weapon and shield on command could come in handy. Not to mention it would be more comfortable for him. Yes, he was a spirit and was well versed in magic, but he had always been a warrior for justice for as long as he could remember. A warrior, not a mage.

He had given up on using any form of spirit healing. It was maddening that he, a spirit, could not actually do any spirit healing. Anders had tried to tell him repeatedly that it took a spirit of compassion. But, the truth was other than the virtue they each embodied there was no real difference between most spirits. So why could he not heal?

There was a smaller form of healing, something most mages were able to learn at least the basics of whether they had an aptitude for healing or not. The problem was, he had never paid attention to healing magics when he was in the Fade. And it had been so long since Anders had tried healing that way his memories about it were a vague.

Justice was left trying to piece together the information. So far, to no avail. Perhaps he should see what he could find on the subject in Hawke’s library. Between her and Anders the estate’s library was quite extensive.

He glanced out the window and decided that was something for another night. He had been able to feel Anders’ body’s fatigue tonight. He needed to let Anders’ body rest. Pushing Anders’ body too far was not good for either of them. So, he would relinquish control and let Anders truly sleep and hope his friend was not awakened with nightmares.

He used another spell to clean himself and Anders’ armor before taking it off. He put everything back where he had found it before he left. Nude again, and still uncomfortable with it, he walked back towards the bed.

Catching the pale blue light of his reflection in the looking glass in the corner he paused. After a moment he decided to take a closer look. He had never really seen himself inside Anders’ body, not since they had merged.

He recognized Anders’ body, his long limbs, the tattooed skin, even Anders’ long blonde hair. But instead of Anders’ warm brown eyes he saw the swirling pale blue. It was such an odd contrast to Anders’. The light seeping from the cracks in Anders’ skin lent an almost sickly pallor to it.

Anders had been grateful to be putting weight back on since he had moved in with Hawke, but he was still leaner than Justice remembered. When he moved to take a closer look at the light seeping through Anders’ skin he stopped, surprised. He was not as graceful as Anders, but his movements were a far cry from the strange fumbling he had done in the Keep.

“I am more of you and you are more of me every day, my friend.” They were one, but in some ways they were still two different entities merely sharing flesh. As strange as it perhaps sounded, even after several years together he still struggled to think of himself not as a spirit but as a man.

Maybe he was becoming more “man” than he realized. Anders had suffered enough confusion and conflicting emotions about Hawke over the years. Could it be that Justice was suffering the same now as he became more of a man and less of a spirit? And if that were so, how should he feel about such a thing?

He turned towards the bed. Hawke was where he had left her, but she was frowning. Another bad dream was troubling her. It was yet another thing she and Anders had in common. Their dreams haunted them both.  
He felt an urge to touch her, and a wish for her to touch him. Not as she did with Anders, not as a lover, but just so he could experience it. Immediately, he heard Anders’ snide voice, an echo from many such thoughts he had before. _“You’ve touched her plenty, choked her, electrocuted her, nearly killed her. Don’t you think you’ve touched her more than enough?”_

But he had not. His rage had always consumed him in those moments. The closest he had ever come to paying attention to her touch was when she had kissed her fingertips and touched his cheek when he was choking her. He had been so surprised he had lost control of Anders’ body. 

It was not the feeling he had been paying attention to even then, but the action. Even when Anders was in control there was so much sensation when Hawke touched them. Justice, who had been completely numb in Kristoff’s body, was nearly so in Anders’ in most cases. 

But Hawke was another anomaly, one he wanted to explore. He wanted to understand Anders’ feelings for her, why she ruled so many of his thoughts. He wanted to understand why Anders believed he needed her touch. And he wanted to know what it would feel like to touch her himself.

He felt an odd sensation pass through him as he climbed onto the bed. These thoughts were dancing dangerously close to desires and the realm of demons. Yet knowing that did not seem to lessen them.

Justice truly meant to relinquish control immediately once he was in the bed, but found himself watching Hawke sleep. He could practically taste the nightmare she was having. He toyed with the idea of rousing her from sleep, but thought better of it. However, he did lift the sleep spell from her letting her return to a more normal sleep.

********

Sekhmet awoke feeling a bit unsettled; she rolled over and opened her eyes. Anders was lying on his side watching her, the pale blue of Justice’s spirit fire illuminating him dimly. “Anders?” she yawned as she started to sit up, concerned that he was having trouble sleeping after his earlier confession.

“I did not mean to wake you.”

Sekhmet froze at the sound of Justice’s voice. “Justice? Is everything alright?” She should have realized it was Justice, not Anders. It was an understandable slip with sleep still clinging to her.

There was a long pause while he just looked at her. “It is not. This feeling Anders has for you, it is very strong. It is distracting.” Another long silence followed and Sekhmet was about to speak before the spirit continued, “You are distracting.”

Sekhmet wasn’t sure what to say, she had been working hard to keep both Anders and Justice happy even as she struggled with the loss of her mother. Anders had been much more honest with her lately, telling her how Justice would try pushing through more often if he felt that Anders was not doing enough, not helping enough. “I’m sorry Justice; I’ve been trying to help Anders and the mages.”

The spirit shook his head. “I understand, and I am not speaking of you keeping Anders from his mission. You are distracting because I am feeling desire.”

Sekhmet sat up, more than a little surprised, and Justice followed suit. “Anders says spirits like you don’t feel desire.”

“He speaks of sexual desire and I have not felt sexual desire. I desire to understand what he feels for you.” Justice looked away from her, looking down at the bed before finishing. “It makes me think of Aura and I feel pain, I ache.”

Sekhmet knew that name; it took her a minute to remember from where though. “Aura was Kristoff’s wife?”

“Yes,” he lifted his head again, suddenly more animated. “I often felt an urge to touch her, but I never did. She made it clear such a thing would not be welcome and she was more than generous with her time. Now, I feel the same urge with you, yet it is different. It is much stronger.” It was hard to tell where Justice was looking as his eyes were just swirls of light with no irises or pupils but a slight tilt of his head made Sekhmet believe that he was no longer looking at her, as if shamed by the confession.

She would never understand fully the relationship between Anders and Justice. She was not a part of them and so she could not. But, what usually confused her the most was the sense of shame that they both seemed to carry. Not wanting Justice to think his desires were in anyway wrong Sekhmet touched his arm, “So, why don’t you?”

Justice inhaled sharply and looked down to where her hand rested on his arm. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper. “Anders is adamant that it is not appropriate for me to touch you.” 

This soft spoken man was not someone she could easily understand as Justice who had always been loud and aggressive. Yet, sitting here next to her in the bed he seemed…young somehow, tender, almost as if he were a very young man. Maybe even a boy just beginning to become a man. It was very strange.

She felt a slight tremor across his skin, under her fingertips. Could it possibly be that Justice of all people was scared? And of her no less? She kept her voice gentle, not wanting to make things worse. “Justice, as Anders is so fond of saying, you are a part of him. If you wish to touch me you can.”

He lifted his head looking at her again, like he was trying to gauge the truth of her words. Hesitantly, he reached out and trailed his fingers lightly down her arm. The blue light coming from within him pulsed almost blindingly bright a few times before dimming again. 

His words were a soft murmur. “Anders finds touching you soothing. When he is agitated his thoughts turn to holding you.”

Is that what Justice wanted? She wondered if he somehow felt left out, considering her relationship with Anders. Anders had never mentioned Justice wanting anything to do with her before. Considering he seemed so worried about wanting something so simple as touching her, maybe Justice had not told Anders of his wishes. 

Justice was part of Anders and always would be. If she was going to be with Anders she would need to be with Justice. And she saw nothing wrong with him touching or holding her if he liked. “Would you like to hold me, Justice?”

The light pulsed again and Sekhmet noticed the spirit trembled again before he spoke, his voice rough sounding, more like the Justice she was used to. “Desire is the realm of demons.” He admonished.

Andraste’s mercy, he was afraid. It made her ache to think that he was so afraid of the concept of desire that he was afraid of something so simple as touching her. What the poor thing made of Anders’ emotions she couldn’t even imagine.

She felt her throat tighten with emotion. She touched Justice’s face gently; remembering how absolutely starved for touch Anders had been the first few weeks they had been together. Did Justice feel the same, craving touch, craving some kind of connection but fearing it? She couldn’t allow it; she would not have him isolate himself like that.

“Justice, this is not the same. You feel what Anders feels and want to understand it. Is it the desire for knowledge, for understanding that you are worried about?” 

“No, it is not. Anders has a curious mind.” He lapsed into silence for a moment. “He knows many things.” He spoke with something akin to awe, if a Fade spirit could even feel awe, she had no idea.

Sekhmet nodded her agreement; Anders was probably the most intelligent, best educated person she had ever met. More than once she had been a little intimidated by his brilliance, though she did not consider herself poorly educated or stupid. And Anders was so nonchalant about it; it seemed at times he had no idea that he was always the smartest person in the room.

Sekhmet pushed the thought aside, this time was for Justice. She snuggled close to him feeling the coolness of his skin as it touched hers. Gently, slowly, not wanting to frighten him she took one of his arms wrapping it around her. The blue light flickered again when she laid her head down on his shoulder. 

He sat very rigid beside her, holding her stiffly for several minutes. Slowly, he seemed to start to be curious, even if he didn’t exactly relax. He reached to touch her with his other hand, his fingers lightly skimming over the skin of her arm, her shoulder, moving to touch her hair. Small sounds of surprise escaped him every so often and the first time he touched her hair he jerked his hand away as if burned.

She stayed still and after a moment he reached out and touched it again. Finally, his hand stilled and he pulled her a little tighter against him. She suppressed a grin when he sniffed her hair; it was such an Anders thing to do it amused her to have Justice do it. 

It was a little strange to be cuddling Justice, especially naked. But, he seemed unconcerned with their nudity and Sekhmet was certainly not planning on drawing attention to it. They stayed that way for a long time, neither speaking until Sekhmet was unable to stop a yawn.

Justice’s rumbling voice pierced the silence. “I am keeping you from sleep.” He lifted his arm from her and shifted away from her quickly. The way he held his body and the undercurrent in his resonate voice hinted at shame again. Sekhmet wondered whose shame it was that colored the two of them so deeply. Had Justice brought the idea of shame from the Fade? Or had he gleaned that from Anders, as he had done the anger?

She wasn’t about to let him retreat now, to regret so simple a thing. Inspired with a new idea, she tugged on Justice’s arm lightly, “Lay down.” 

He hesitated a moment and she thought he would refuse but eventually he followed her directions. He lay down stiffly on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Sekhmet lay down beside him and curled up against his side, resting her head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. Slowly, Justice settled an arm around her. She sighed contentedly, the feeling of Anders’ body holding her familiar, even with the oddly cool skin against her own.

“I can hear your heart.” She whispered.

After a beat of silence Justice responded, “It is Anders’ heart.” His tone was matter of fact, not a disagreement.

A small smile curved her lips, “You feel what he feels, breathe when he breathes, you bleed when he does. The heart is as much yours as it is his.” 

She knew this was a big deal, bigger than she was making it out to be at least. Justice, speaking with her, touching her, holding her. The idea of it even was foreign and strange. He was usually trying to kill her. She’d take this, and appreciate it for as long as it lasted.

She didn’t know what changed his reaction to her, and honestly she didn’t care. She was going to have to be careful, he was so obviously fragile. What happened when you had two personalities in one body? You ended up with a man who was twice as fragile.

Although, in some respects, calling Justice a man might be a bit of a stretch. He reminded her of young men from Lothering and their first fumbling attempts at cuddling and petting. Which made a strange sort of sense, as far as she knew there was no such thing as cuddling and intimacy in the Fade.

Her fatigue catching up with her she yawned again and was surprised when she felt Justice’s hand smoothing over her hair. He stroked her hair gently until she fell back to sleep, the pale blue light still playing gently across her eyelids as she slipped into slumber.

*********

Justice still was not sure what to make of the woman but it was extremely pleasant to hold her and to watch her sleep. It was pleasant to stroke her hair, to feel its warmth and smooth texture slide through his fingers. He had never felt anything like touching Hawke.

She was surprisingly soft and very warm. His skin tingled everywhere he was touching her. It was amazing. So much incredible sensation, no wonder Anders was so fond of touching her.

He wondered if his perception was off. It seemed as if he felt Hawke’s touch more clearly, more intensely than anything else. And it made him feel very grateful for his living flesh. Did touching other people feel this good? If so, it was no wonder mortals touched so often. 

It was incredible not only to hold Hawke, but to not feel guilt for doing so. She had given him permission. Had lain on him as she did on Anders, an idea he found intensely gratifying for some reason.

And it was pleasant to let himself feel what Anders felt for her, for only a moment. He had opened himself and gone searching for Anders’ feeling about Hawke. But, Anders’ feelings were intense and hard to manage so he had only been able to handle the briefest moment while touching her. Perhaps he would experiment again when he was not already so flooded with sensation.

As he pushed Anders’ feelings aside to concentrate on his own he wondered if Anders really understood the woman he shared a bed with. She had not minded Justice being there at all, had not been upset to speak with him or to feel his touch. She had accepted him as she often told Anders she had. The mage’s fears were unfounded.

He thought about her remarks about Anders’ heart. She had seemed pleased to hear the sound of it beating slowly in his chest. And he had felt a small ripple of something when she had called it his heart. Now that he accepted her as a reality he could not escape, rather than something to avoid, he was looking at things very differently. 

He did not understand Anders’ woman and was not sure whether his feelings towards her were his own or Anders’ but he was curious to explore them further. Justice did know that Sekhmet had accepted him more readily than anyone else since he had left the Fade. She was never afraid of him no matter how angry he or Anders became. 

Even when all Justice could see was red and all he wanted to do was lash out she did not fear him. Though her companions and Anders warned her to fear him she still did not. The reek of fear did not touch her. And tonight she had done something he would have never imagined. She had shared herself with him without a second thought. 

Emotions in the mortal world were a strange thing. They seemed able to bring both indescribable pleasure and immeasurable pain. He had been privy to both since joining with Anders and for the first couple of years they had been joined Justice had thought that both of their lives would be easier if they could just get rid of them all together. 

Anders had been horrified and afraid when Justice had suggested it. He railed at Justice for trying to make him Tranquil and Justice had been confused about the mage’s vehemence. But now Justice thought he was finally starting to understand Anders’ fear of losing his emotions. 

His existence in the Fade had not been devoid of emotions but the emotions there were muted compared to what he now felt with Anders. When you can change anything and everything with a thought it is harder to hold on to an emotion. And yes, his life in the Fade had been a much easier existence but he could not imagine going back to that now. 

Did demons know of the intoxication of mortal emotions? Was it why demons sought to possess mortals and worked to embody those feelings? Surely, even a demon’s existence must pale in comparison to a mortal’s. 

They seemed only able to capture one emotion and there were so many more things a mortal was capable of feeling, of expressing. Justice wondered again exactly what he was now; he hated the term abomination as much as Anders did and felt it did not apply to them. But he was not exactly a spirit anymore, fused with Anders as he was and he knew he was not human either.

Justice was pulled from his reverie by the feeling of Anders consciousness stirring. Justice started to recede as he felt Anders starting to wake up. He did not hide his presence or what he had been doing with Sekhmet.

*********

Anders blinked slowly awake; his memory filling in spots while he slept and Justice was awake with Sekhmet. When he realized what Justice had been doing with her he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or scream. He’d spent years alone worried that Justice would hurt Sekhmet. And then he’d had to endure Justice’s complaints since he’d moved in.

But now that Justice seemed to want to share in his relationship with Sekhmet, Anders felt even more agitated than he had then. Anders thought that Sekhmet would be the one thing that was truly his. Justice had no need for a relationship, for love. His whole existence revolved around justice and vengeance and their obsession with freeing mages. Anders never imagined that Justice would be interested in Sekhmet in any way.

He wasn’t about to allow Justice to interfere in this part of his life as well. _“Stay away from her Justice, she’s mine. And I will not share her, not even with you.”_

Justice didn’t respond, just returned to the silent sentinel he’d been since Leandra had died. Watching, always watching. But, where Anders had been relieved by Justice’s silence before now he just felt anxious. _“I won’t share her,”_ he reiterated as if saying it again would somehow make it so.

And what about her? Why has she been so accommodating of Justice? She hadn’t protested, had actually encouraged him. Was Anders not enough for her? For just a moment bitterness swallowed him. He stifled it; this was just his own insecurity and jealousy gnawing at him. 

It had come roaring back with a reinvigorated viciousness with Sekhmet’s flirting. He supposed that her flirting, more than anything else, was a true sign that she was feeling better, that her grief was finally subsiding somewhat. Unfortunately, it had been aimed at Fenris first, when he had come to the estate the day before yesterday.

Here, Anders had been scared to push her, to ask her for too much while she turned around plying Fenris with her charms. She’d teased the elf, calling him handsome and telling him how much she adored his voice while he practiced his reading. First lesson back to reading and she was fawning all over him. Anders had been incensed.

Ah, and she was slick, his darling love, she’d come up the steps plyed Anders with kisses and caresses, soothing his ragged ego. He’d forgiven her, brushing the incident aside. And now she was turning her attention to Justice. 

Fuck, he was not going to be this man. He was not going to be the unreasonable lover, blinded by jealousy and flying into fits of rage.

_She waited for me."_ He reminded himself, she’d waited for years while he had dragged his feet. She’d waited even when he had repeatedly hurt her and pushed her away. She’d waited even when he insisted there would never be anything between them. She had seen him at his worst, had heard all of it now, exactly what a monster he was and barely reacted. 

She loved him, just him and she deserved more than his petty jealousies. 

He knew sooner or later they were going to have to determine how Justice figured into their relationship. He’d been hoping the spirit would stay out of it, regardless of how improbable that was. He supposed he should be grateful that he didn’t have to worry about Justice wanting to hurt her…or worse. 

Anders closed his eyes, trying not to think about the implications of Justice’s time with Sekhmet. Instead, he wrapped himself tighter around her and inhaled the scent of her hair. It smelled uniquely of her. Her skin and her hair smelled exactly like she tasted when he kissed her. Goose bumps rose across Anders’ skin at the scent and Anders smiled to himself. 

He thought a moment about waking her, of kissing her until she was breathless and her lips were swollen and then making love to her slowly, but she had only just fallen back to sleep. And it would be a ridiculous attempt to soothe his ego, to lay claim to her. So, Anders contented himself with holding her while she slept. Firmly, he tried to push all thoughts of Justice from his mind; he did not want to think of the spirit and his lady love. “I will not share her.” He mumbled as he slid back towards slumber. 

_“What choice do you have?”_ Justice finally responded, but Anders was already asleep. 


	49. Otherside of the Coin

Sekhmet sat on the floor and opened her large chest. Reaching inside she pulled out a smaller box, with an intricately carved top, a female lion curled up with a cub. The box was part of a set of three from her father. The smallest held another gift her father had given her, the middle one sat empty for the time being. And the one she took out now, the one she sat on her lap was the largest.

She opened it and peered into the box, a little more than halfway full with pins in bronze, silver and a few even in gold. Looking on them now she was filled with guilt and pleasure in equal measure. It had been four months since her mother had died. Four months since she had utterly lost herself to her grief.

Slowly, she’d been taking back the reins of her life. Up till now she’d only been taking small jobs, petty ante bullshit. Anders and she had both agreed she should take it easy for a while. 

She thought she might be ready to get back into the saddle now though. What she needed was to get herself back into some real work. With the little jobs she kept taking she was feeling like a damned errand girl. 

She stood and walked to the desk, placing the box on top of it. And this box was the key to feeling useful again, to getting a piece of herself back. She picked up one of the pins, rubbing her fingers gently over the engraved metal, a small smile curving her lips.

“What’s that?” Anders asked as he came into the room behind her.

The man had perfect timing. She’d been about to go find him. She wanted to tell him she was ready to keep some promises she’d made to herself and to Justice. Holding up the pin as she turned, she flashed him a smile. “I want to go hunting, love. Will you join me?”

He took the Templar insignia pin from her fingers and looked into the box, his eyes widened. “Andraste’s knickers, how many are in there?”

She shrugged, “I have no idea.”

He set the pin back in the box gingerly, “We haven’t killed that many, have we?”

She scowled, what was his problem? “No, I’ve been collecting them since the one that killed my father.”

Anders visibly relaxed. Apparently, it was more palatable to think he wasn’t responsible for all the pins in the box. She shook her head and closed the box so he’d stop staring at it like he was appalled.

She snapped at him, annoyed at his attitude. He’d never complained about killing Templars with her, never even hesitated. “I’m sure Justice would be happy to join me if you’re not interested.” Justice seemed to enjoy hunting with her.

He closed the distance between them and stroked her cheek softly, “I’d rather go, if you’ll have me.”

A shiver ran through her, his voice was like honey. Trying to soothe her and it worked, like it always did. Even when she knew he was using it to manipulate her, to relax her she couldn’t help reacting to it. She stood up on her tip toes and kissed him, damn it she wanted to be annoyed with him.

He sighed softly against her lips and even kissed her back. Things had been stilted between them physically since her mother had died. This was the first time he’d really relaxed and she thought he’d finally decided to end his moratorium on sex. Until, of course, she tried for more. As soon as she slipped her hands under his tunic he took her wrists, pulling her hands away from his skin and broke the kiss. 

She didn’t even bother to argue. What was the point? If he didn’t want her anymore, he didn’t want her. She’d have to learn to be grateful that he stayed. 

She did her best to smile at him as she pulled her hands from his grasp and turned away. Crossing the room she opened her wardrobe, rifling through it while she tried to hide her embarrassment. She needed to stop being so sensitive about him not wanting her physically anymore.

So, Anders didn’t want to fuck her, she’d live. And big deal if he seemed less than enthused about hunting, she could do that with Justice. At least she wasn’t alone.

Still, even when the heat finally left her cheeks her heart still ached. She’d asked for too much from him, perhaps she’d lost his respect, or whatever it was that had stirred him to desire before. It wasn’t like she didn’t realize how pathetic she had been after losing her mother. Honestly, she’d lost some respect for herself, during those first few weeks especially.

But, Anders had stayed with her, had taken care of her. She was tired of him treating her like spun glass though. She needed to start being her again, needed to get back into the world and start fulfilling her promises.

She pulled out fresh clothing and pulled it on quickly while Anders settled into a chair. Those watchful eyes of his were deceiving, trying to kindle a false sense of hope within her. He watched her like a starved man, but he wanted nothing from her. And it unexpectedly hurt; she couldn’t take his stare and turned away. Once she was dressed she dared to look at him again.

He sighed rubbing his forehead and scowling. “Justice claims he has something for you.”

Justice? She wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful or worried. “Alright.”

“I really don’t like this, you and he being…familiar. It’s not right.” Anders protested.

“Oh, is this the part where I remind you that you and he are one?” She asked sarcastically. How many damn times had he rammed that damned sentence down her throat?

“I’d quite rather you didn’t.” He closed his eyes, trying to relax and release control to Justice. Clearly, giving up control didn’t come easily to him. As she watched him she wondered if it was easier for him when Justice just took control.

And then Justice was standing up, rising from the chair just shy of Anders' easy grace. His odd gaze steady as he crossed the room to her. He reached for her hand then quickly stopped before making contact. “I apologize.” His oddly resonant voice washed over her. “Anders is cross enough as it is; I should not make it worse. However, I do have something for you.”

He turned and walked to the wardrobe Sekhmet had purchased for Anders to match her own. He pulled a small cloth bag from the top of it, one she hadn’t noticed before. A strange expression touched his face as he returned to her. After a moment she realized he was smiling, or at least attempting too. Giving her the small sack he stepped away from her and immediately relinquished control of Anders’ body.

Anders’ eyes were anxious as they stared back at her. She dropped her gaze; a little disappointed Justice hadn’t waited until she had opened the bag before disappearing. She hadn’t even been able to thank him.

“Well what is it?” Anders sounded nervous.

She opened the small bag and reached inside, her own smile touching her lips when she saw what was inside. She couldn’t help a very pleased laugh. They were pins, more Templar insignia pins. Seemed Justice had been quite naughty indeed. He’d been hunting without her.

“Thank you, Justice.” She was still giggling, looking up at Anders’ confused brown eyes, hoping Justice could see her pleasure and hear her thanks.

A few weeks ago she might have been upset to realize he had left her alone, but clearly he’d been careful. She hadn’t even realized he was gone. From the weight of the bag she figured there had to be at least twenty to thirty pins inside of it.

Anders did not look pleased, he looked angry. “Where did he get those?” 

She shrugged, starting to tire of his jealousy. “You’ll have to ask him. I’m guessing he got them from Templars, preferably from their corpses.”

Anders voice rumbled from his chest, ire marring his features. “Preferable for you maybe, this means he’s been leaving the house without me knowing. And just how did he know you collected the pins?”

She snapped back at him, he was being ridiculous. “I take them off _all_ the Templars we kill, have since before we even met. Maybe the more important question is why didn’t _you_ know?”

He quieted down immediately, falling silent for a long minute. Sekhmet turned away, taking the pins to add them to her collection. This was a mess. She had been getting used to Anders' jealousies, for the most part. But, having him jealous of Justice of all things was too much.

It made her angry, made her want to be reckless and cruel. Maybe remind him that Justice has seen her naked, has been there every time Anders fucked her, every time he held her. Justice was part of their life and always would be. She had no illusions that there was a “cure” for the two of them. 

She felt Anders walk up behind her and struggled not to stiffen. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her hair. She opened her box and emptied the bag into it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered almost too softly for her to hear.

“I know,” she sighed, relaxing back against him.

“He left you alone.” Soft again, trying not to rile her. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you.” His voice trailed off even softer, “I promised.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not. I made you a promise and he broke it. I don’t like that, in fact I hate it.” His voice was rising again, his temper flaring.

“So tell him.” She pulled out of his embrace and turned around to face him. “Tell him you hate it when he breaks promises you make.”

Anders looked at her as if she was crazy. “And what, that will make it all better?”

“Sometimes, my love, you’re an idiot.” She took his hands, ignoring the glare he flashed at her. “Didn’t you tell me that before you bonded, or whatever, that you and Justice were friends?”

He nodded.

“Do you really think he went out to hunt to make a liar out of you?” She was watching him closely, hoping this didn’t blow up in her face.

“No,” quiet, but at least he said it.

“Then tell him you’re upset and why.” Seeing it from his point of view she could understand the anger, the clear sense of betrayal. She’d thought he was just being a jealous ass again. But, Justice had made him break a promise and Anders did not take promises lightly.

“He should have known better.” He responded bitterly.

“Why? Because _you_ made a promise? Did he promise?” He was scowling again so she hurried on. “You’re one but you’re not. You have different thoughts, different ideas. You making a promise is not automatically him making a promise. So tell him, and maybe make an agreement that if you make a promise you both are bound by it.” She shook her head, exasperated. “I don’t know, there has to be some way you two can handle that sort of thing better.”

“Since when do you take his side?” He asked, sounding hurt.

“It’s not taking his side. It’s offering you a different way to look at it.” She took his hand and squeezed it lightly, “It’s over and done with and I’m not upset.”

“Okay,” he gave her a half hearted smile. “By the way, it’s a bit strange to have you talk to him like I’m not here.”

She smirked, “I’m sure he feels the same way.”

“Mmm,” a soft sigh of agreement before he dipped his head for a kiss. 

She held herself back, not abandoning herself to the kiss because she knew if she did that she would want more. He seemed to notice and slipped his arms back around her holding her tighter, becoming a bit more aggressive with the kiss. And much as she wanted to drink in the heat, that passion that was him she couldn’t take another rejection today.

He broke the kiss and looked at her, trying to search for an answer on her face. “What’s wrong? Are you still mad?”

She smiled and shook her head, “I’m not mad, promise.” Nope, not mad just hurt, feeling pathetic and undesirable.

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“There isn’t one.”

“Bullshit,” he growled, “you make me feel like I’m forcing you to kiss me but there’s nothing wrong?”

“What? I kissed you back.” She countered; she really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Barely,” he let her go and walked away. “Just tell me you’re still angry, I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’m not angry, dammit.” Alright, well maybe now she was with his constant pushing at her.

He snorted, “Just tell me you don’t want me to kiss you next time. Don’t make me feel like I’m pushing myself on you.”

“As if I could get that lucky,” she mumbled as she turned around to close and lock the box full of pins.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He was suddenly right behind her.

Why did one argument always run into another? She didn’t respond because she didn’t know what to say. If she told him she missed sex he’d either reject her again, which would just make her feel like shit. Or, he would have sex with her out of a sense of obligation, which would just make her feel like shit.

Keeping her back to him she picked up the box and moved to put it back in the chest where she had found it. She kept repeating the mantra _“He loves me,”_ over and over again in her head. She did not need sex, she didn’t. People didn’t die from not having sex. It didn’t mean that he loved her any less.

“Maybe you’d rather talk to Justice.” His voice was cold.

She dropped her head, she wasn’t going to let him draw her back into a fight, she wasn’t, not now. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? The two of you have been getting awful chummy.” And they were back to this again.

She sighed and stood, still not looking at him, but she could feel him standing so close behind her. She wanted to lean back against him, feel his arms encircle her, wanted to feel his body against her, comforting and electrifying. “Right, Justice is the problem with you feeling like I didn’t respond properly to your kiss.”

“That’s not what I said.” And now he was being petulant.

That was fine; she was starting to feel rather petulant herself. “But it’s what you implied.”

“You’re trying to put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you won’t let me put anything else in there.” The words were out of her mouth before she could catch them. Oh Maker, that was just so wrong. How could she have said that? She flushed, embarrassed. 

“What?” He gripped her arm and turned her to face him.

“Are you ever going to touch me again?” He wanted another argument, fine, she’d give him one. She was a woman; she could change her mind if she wanted to. And she wouldn’t scream, or cry, or become unreasonable, unless, of course, she changed her mind again.

“I touch you everyday, Sekhmet.” He gestured to where he was still gripping her arm as if to demonstrate. But by the guarded look she could tell he knew what she was getting at.

She pushed him backwards, completely across the room. He let her push him, dropping heavily into the chair in front of the fire when his legs hit it. She slid her tunic off and climbed into his lap, facing him. "No, I mean touch me like this.” She took his hand and put it to her breast, cupping it gently. “Like you still want me.”

She watched his eyes darken; he looked down to where his hand cupped her breast and his tongue snaked out to wet his lower lip. And she thought she had him. But then he closed his eyes and removed his hand.

“I do still want you, Sekhmet. And as soon as you want me and aren’t looking for a way to assuage your grief, I’ll touch you however you want.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anders, I can’t just turn off my grief, as much as I wish I could.”

“I’m not asking you to…” His was using that damn placating voice again.

She covered his mouth to shut him up. “But just because I’m grieving doesn’t mean I’m looking to forget for a bit by fucking you. Maybe I’m just lusting after that incredible body of yours, ever think of that?”

His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything.

Frustrated, she stood up and walked away from him, “I’m mean Andraste’s tits Anders, you give me the most incredible sex of my life day after day for months and now…” she gestured broadly, “nothing, bupkis. You still walk around here half naked, crawl into our bed every night without a stitch of clothing on, letting me see that gorgeous body of yours,” she deliberately looked him up and down, “but I’m not supposed to touch?”

He was watching her pace and rant silently, his dark eyes fixed to her raptly. Yet, he remained painfully silent and still.

She huffed when she got no response, “Fine, then I’ll just go to the Rose.”

She turned away from him looking for her boots. She really was mad enough she would go to the Rose. Granted, it would just be to drink with Jethann, but Anders didn’t need to know that. She jumped, a squeak erupting from her when Anders’ arms closed around her waist. 

“You little vixen.” His voice purred in her ear.

She hadn’t even heard him cross the room. As he pulled her tight against him she could feel he was hard, finally, and it sent a shiver of excitement through her. Had she finally stirred him to action?

He turned her to face him, “You really want me to kill Jethann that badly?”

She gasped, what? Why would he kill Jethann?

He began backing her up, “Oh, I know all about you and the ginger elf. I know you went to see him night after night before me. I was trying to be understanding, trying to decent. But, if you think I’m going to stand back and let you fuck another man, darling you are sadly mistaken.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she stammered, surprised by this new twist.

“No?” But he had untied her breast band, letting it slip to the floor. His gaze shifted to her breasts. It looked like he was losing interest in Jethann.

“No,” she whispered as he pushed her back onto the bed.

He stripped her quickly and kissed her. It wasn’t sweet and gentle as he usually was; there was aggression and possessiveness in his kiss. His tongue thrust roughly into her mouth, his lips pushing hers forcefully apart. The kiss was a demand, and she happily aquiesed. He pulled back and took a deep breath, “It’s been a while, I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”

“But, you want me?” Maker, she really was that pathetic.

He chuckled a little as if the idea was ludicrous, “Do I want you? Are you mad?” He traced his finger down over her lips, her chin, trailing it down her throat, his gaze following it’s path. “Of course I want you. Maker’s mercy, do you know how hard it’s been to keep my hands to myself?” He cupped her breast squeezing it and brushing his thumb over her nipple. “I never wanted you any less, but you needed to grieve.” He dropped his head to nuzzle her neck, his voice becoming muffled and distracted. “Using sex to avoid feeling that wouldn’t have helped anyone.”

“Okay,” she mumbled before she tugged his hair, she wanted another kiss, a possessive one like the last time. He wanted her, that’s all she needed to know. He loved her, he stayed and he still wanted her. She was beyond happy.

With a groan he lifted his head, searching her eyes briefly before he grabbed a handful of her hair and kissed her, another deep searing kiss. It made her burn, her whole body screaming out with a dazed kind of joy. She really, really liked possessive Anders. This could be bad.

His other hand roamed over her body sending sparks between her legs, a soft caress down her arm, a rough tweak on her nipple, his thumb skating over her hip bone. All the while he was devouring her with that kiss. She could let him push her thoughts aside, she just wanted to feel and enjoy him anyways.

She fisted her hands into his long hair, tugging it making him growl against her mouth. He nipped at her lower lip and she whimpered. And when his knee pushed up between her thighs spreading them she moaned, desperate for him to touch her.

He broke the kiss and bit her shoulder lightly. “I _want_ to taste you,” he groaned, teeth still pressing the flesh of her shoulder. He shifted her body beneath him, positioning himself between her legs, “but I _need_ to be inside of you.” With that he pushed into her, filling her with one rough stroke.

She cried out, tightening one fist in her hair while her other hand moved to his back, scratching him. She immediately fisted her hand on his back; she hadn’t meant to scratch him. She tried to stay still for him. He wasn’t moving, he’d moved to rest his head against her shoulder, his breath coming fast. 

She untangled her hand still tangled in his golden tresses and smoothed it over his hair trying to soothe him from whatever was troubling him. “Anders?”

“I love you,” he gritted through his teeth as if that should be enough of an explaination.

“I know,” she whispered. If he didn’t move soon she was going to. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been with a man and had to do all the work, even from the bottom.

He took a deep breath and then another, then nuzzled her neck, his nose burrowing into her warmth before he kissed the flesh softly. A long slow lick of his tongue made her tingle and when he followed it up with a sharp nip she moaned. He bit her again in the same spot, still keeping her hips pinned to the bed with his own.

She felt ridiculous just lying there, trapped beneath him. She couldn’t deny that his mouth felt good on her neck. She wanted to ask him to bite her harder but felt foolish.

He licked her neck again wriggling the tip against the bite mark. “Pull my hair,” he whispered. And she obliged, tugging his long locks as he kissed her neck again. “Harder,” it wasn’t a request. He groaned when she did, his cock twitching inside of her. He burrowed his head against her neck, “more” he moaned. 

Surprised and excited, she wrapped his hair around her hand and really pulled it, hard enough to tear his head away from her neck. She was watching him, entranced. His eyes were glazed in pleasure, his skin flushed with arousal and his lips were slick with his saliva. As always, he was devastatingly beautiful.

Finally, he moved, his hips pulling back before sliding forward and stilling again. How could he stand it? She was dying for some satisfaction. 

She pulled on his hair again, forcing him to look up at the ceiling and was rewarded with another slow stroke. She didn’t really understand what he was doing but she kind of liked it, a strange power play where he was forcing her to control him to get what she wanted.

She used his hair to steer his mouth back to hers. Greedily, he kissed her again his tongue stroking in and out of her mouth as his cock slid in and out of her. He started slow and smooth but they became deeper, rougher and harder as he kissed her. His hand, still tangled in her hair, tightened tipping her head to let him change the angle of the kiss.

There were days she lived for this, the weight of his body on hers, the feel of him inside of her, the taste of his lips. And today felt like one of those days. This felt so damned good; she could already feel her orgasm starting to build. Experimenting, she bit his lip, a sharp growl rolled from his throat followed by a much harder thrust. 

He tore his mouth away from hers, dropped his head to her shoulder muttering, “Fuck,” as he did so.

“Sorry,” the response was automatic, she hadn’t meant to upset him.

A low, dark chuckle came from him, “Don’t apologize. I liked it. I just…” he sighed heavily, “this might have been a bad idea.” He took several slow, deep breaths, then gently kissed her collarbone. He started stroking in and out of her at a steady pace, twisting his hips pushing her towards orgasm.

And as good as it felt, because damn the man knew how to make a woman’s toes curl, she was disappointed. She pushed at his shoulder, “Fine, then let’s stop.”

He stilled, “I…I didn’t mean that.” He pulled her hand from his hair and kissed it. “I mean this, getting you to do this. I should have waited until I was a little more in control of myself.”

“Why?” If he liked it what was the problem. It wasn’t like he would leave her unsatisfied even if he finished before she did. He definitely wasn’t that sort of man.

He kissed her gently, “Because I love you, sweetheart.” He shifted, dusting feather soft kisses along her skin. He rubbed his pelvis back and forth against her. “Let me make love to you,” it was a soft plea and she couldn’t refuse.

He moved gently, his fingers and hands tracing designs over her flesh. He stirred her passions bringing her to a resounding cresecendo and then immediately stroked and caressed her to a second orgasm before finally cumming himself.

It was good, as amazing as it always was with Anders. And it was a relief after so long without feeling him inside her, without feeling that connection. But, she was left feeling unsatisfied, and slightly disappointed.

Anders had so clearly wanted something from her, so why had he stopped. Did he think she didn’t really want to give it to him? And this bullshit about answering her questions with ‘because I love you’ was more than a little annoying.

He slipped from the bed but she stayed, thinking over what happened. The idea that she wasn’t satisfying him, that she wasn’t giving him something he needed started nagging at her. She was going to have to find a way to fix that as soon as possible.

Anders came back, bowl of water and ewer in hand. He kissed her abdomen softly and used a washing cloth to clean her sex. She was surprised, but let him.

He had this softness, this glow about him. He didn’t stop with her sex but slowly and methodically cleaned her arms and legs, her chest and everything in between. Carefully, he rolled her over and washed her back.

She relaxed, feeling like she was becoming part of the bed when she unexpectedly felt warm oil trickle onto her back. Anders' gentle hands and long fingers started massaging her back. He started at her shoulders, dropping soft little kisses as he massaged her.

Slowly, he worked his way downward and this delightful somnolence enveloped her. In this, as in all things with her body, he was a master. She couldn’t help a moan as he worked the tension out of her lower back. 

And when he began to massage her buttocks she let him. She’d had no idea one could hold so much tension in those muscles. She felt relaxed all over, breathing easier even.

She was a hairsbreadth from falling asleep when he nudged the inside of her thigh, clearly wanting her to spread her legs again. And though her legs felt heavy she spread them for him, sighing in pleasure when one of his oiled fingers brushed her clit.

He massaged her sex, inside and out. And when she came from his soft, gentle ministration he leaned down and kissed her hair. She thought he would stop but he just shifted and began to massage the length of her legs.

The deep relaxation and the feeling of safety she always had when Anders was there eventually won out. Even though she hadn’t been planning on a nap she slipped into slumber. Damn Anders and his magnificent hands. 

********

Anders felt a muscle working in his jaw as he read over the letter from the Viscount. There were only vagaries in the letter; he needed to see her immediately, a matter of the utmost importance. The usual blather he found on the requests for help Sekhmet received from so many. But there was a tone of desperateness to this one. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was exactly, but it was there all the same.

She’d said she was ready for bigger jobs, but he wasn’t so sure about this one. The Viscount never asked for small favors, not from Sekhmet. Still, the desperate tone pulled at him. 

With a sigh he pushed to his feet and headed to the room in the back of the estate where she’d set up a training room. She was seated on a rough hewn stool polishing one of her daggers. When she looked up and saw him a smile lit up her whole face.

It was nice to have her back, nothing hiding behind her eyes, just the woman he loved back among the land of the living. That smile made him want to forget about the Viscount’s letter and drag her off to cuddle somewhere. Her smile was a whisper of so many promises.

“I have a job I think we have to take.” He started.

She nodded, “What is it?”

“Not sure, but it’s for the Viscount, so it’s bound to be big.” He handed her the parchment.

She read it over quickly then stood, “We should go now, seems pressing, more so than usual at least.”

“That’s what I thought.” He followed her out of the room, headed up to their bedroom to get their armor.

He continued upstairs when she stopped to talk to Bodahn. She was just sending him to tell whoever she planned on bringing with her to get ready. He’d barely made it upstairs when she joined him.

“Being it’s the Viscount it’s likely something inside the city, but bring a full pack anyway. I don’t want to have to stop again.” 

He watched her as he pulled his armor on. Focused, mind already working over how to approach this new issue. She knew as well as he did that if there was a problem the Viscount wanted her to deal with it likely involved the Qunari.

She caught him watching her, “Don’t worry,” she said as she buckled her armor into place.

“I’m not,” the response was automatic.

She laughed softly, “Liar, I can handle it. I promise.”

He smirked, “We’re bringing ‘your boys’ aren’t we?”

“Yeah, they’re both in Hightown. And I like having Fenris along when I’m dealing with the Arishok. Can you behave yourself?” She asked half joking, half serious.

He couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t like he had a stellar record when it came to the two men. “I’ll behave, but I make no such claims about Justice.”

She jerked up from buckling her boot, “Is that a possible issue?”

He’d been teasing, but now he wasn’t sure. “Uh, I don’t think so.” That was an uncomfortable idea. Justice had picked up his anger from Anders, would he pick up Anders’ jealousy as well? He did not envy Sekhmet if that turned out to be the case. 

She clearly decided to drop it for now; she went back to getting ready to go. 

Fenris showed up before they had finished restocking their packs. Did the man live in his armor? Anders almost snickered, but when he realized how close that might be to the truth he thought better of it.

They waited for Sebastian. Sekhmet and Fenris squeezing in a little reading practice while they did. Anders was impressed, Fenris was doing really well. The elf learned quickly, already reading better than either Sandal or Orana.

As soon as Sebastian showed up they left. Sekhmet dashed up the steps to the Viscount’s Keep two at a time. When they reached the outer door to the Viscount’s office Seneschal Bran was standing, without a word, without even a sneer he nodded toward the Viscount’s door. That certainly didn’t bode well.

The Viscount was standing looking out a window. He was faced away from them, his body stiff from obvious tension. His hand rested on the wall as if he was using it to hold himself up. “Hawke?”

“Yes, Viscount,” she was a bit reserved, picking up on the tension in the room.

He sighed heavily, pushing off the wall slowly. “It is apparently not enough that the Qunari define my political life. They must also infect what I hold personal.” He finally turned to face them. “It is my son, Seamus. The life you saved he would now squander by converting t the Qun. He has left for the Qunari Compound. Please, Serrah Hawke, convince Seamus to come home.”

Sekhmet responded quietly. “Forgive me, Viscount, but your son is an adult. It’s his choice, is it not?”

A vague nod, “I want to let him find his way, but in my position…He’s taken a great deal of inspiration from you. I want to allow his idealism, but not blindly.” Anders could see him struggling. He wanted his son to be able to do as he pleased, but his position in the city didn’t really afford him that luxury. “At best my opponents will say my office is now in Qunari hands. At worst, I lose my son.”

Sekhmet nodded in understanding. “Did anyone else see him leaving for the compound?”

A frustrated half chuckle, “He made no secret of it. I’m sure he intended it as another of his statements about closer relations. Your example inspired him. I might agree, but now is not the time. These matters are delicate.”

The Viscount was pushing Sekhmet and she responded, getting annoyed that he was so blatantly trying to play to her role thus far in his son’s life. “He’s politically dangerous you mean.”

“The office must remain strong Serrah Hawke.” His answer was just shy of curt. The two of them were never really going to get along. He had to tolerate Sekhmet because he needed her and she felt an obligation to help Kirkwall.

And she felt a special obligation to help Seamus. Anders knew she liked the boy. She always stopped and talked to him whenever they were in the Viscount’s Keep. She went to every function he invited her to; even knowing he liked to do it to annoy his father. It wasn’t that they were friends exactly, she just had a fondness for the boy and his penchant to be a pain in polite society’s ass. “I’ll go talk to him, but that’s all I can promise.”

The Viscount immediately looked relieved. “Who knows, he might actually listen to you. No one else has dealt as closely with the Qunari. I hope he will see we can be accepting and still be a proud citizen of Kirkwall. I wish we could all see that.”

As they headed out of the keep Fenris spoke up. “So you’re taking all of us on a glorified babysitting job?”

Sekhmet turned and looked at Fenris, “We’re dealing with the Qunari, so I make no assumptions of ease or safety.”

He nodded and fell silent.

And it turned out she was right. First, they were ambushed on the way to the docks. And then once they got to the Qunari compound Seamus wasn’t even there.

As they headed back to Hightown, ready to head to the Chantry Sekhmet stopped. She turned and looked at Sebastian who immediately went to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. Anders ignored the flare of possessiveness.

“Sekhmet, are you alright?” Sebastian asked softly.

She shook her head, “No, I have a really bad feeling. Please, go get Aveline and bring her to the Chantry. We’ll meet you there. Hurry, please.”

Sebastian nodded and took off at a run, zipping across the plaza. Anders was worried about Sekhmet she was a little grey looking, her breathing was a little sped up. Fenris was watching the two of them closely as they walked towards the Chantry.

He flashed Anders a look of annoyance and stepped forward, gently rubbing Sekhmet’s back as they walked. Anders watched him, knew he was glaring and didn’t care. He was pissed that Fenris was touching Sekhmet, but wasn’t about to start a fight when she was so clearly upset.

And it was his own fault after all. If he would have just comforted her, Fenris wouldn’t have touched her. Why couldn’t he shake his fear of the Templars seeing him with her? The fear that they would hurt her, would take her away to punish him was so deeply engrained he couldn’t shake it.

As they waited at the bottom of the Chantry steps for Aveline and Sebastian Anders thought he saw someone moving, keeping to the shadows above. They looked around but were ultimately unable to find anything. Sekhmet’s anxiety had become contagious. 

Anders’ gut was telling him something was very wrong. They should get inside the Chantry now instead of waiting for Sebastian and Aveline. He was about to urge Sekhmet inside when Sebastian and Aveline came jogging towards them.

Aveline looked almost hopeful as she looked at Sekhmet. Sekhmet barely acknowledged her. She took a deep breath and without a word headed up the steps. She pulled open the door, and though it was after dark it was still a surprise to find the Chantry empty.

“Where did everyone go?” Sebastian asked softly beside him.

Anders shrugged, “You would know better than I.”

Suddenly, Sekhmet broke out into a run across the Chantry floor. Anders followed suit, pulling up short when he saw what sent her running. Seamus was on the center of the dias, kneeling, his head bowed.

They all stopped, except for her. She slowly climbed the steps. The flickering light from a candle caught a tear already tracking down her cheek.

It was easy enough to see he wasn’t breathing and his skin color was slightly off. Still, she squatted gently beside him, touching his shoulder gently. Anders could almost hear her begging for it not to be true. Seamus’ body slumped over sideways. 

Aveline’s voice was tight beside him, “Who would dare?”

As if in answer footsteps came up behind them. “Serrah Hawke, look at what you have done. To pounce upon the Viscount’s son, a repentant convert, in the Chantry itself. A crime with no excuse. Your Qunari masters will finally answer.”

Sekhmet stood, moved to the front of the dias to get a good look at Petrice and there was so much fury in her blue eyes. “You murderous bitch, I’ll kill you for this.” 

There was a group of people with Petrice and they were slowly fanning out, cutting of the exits. That suited Anders just fine. He agreed with Sekhmet. Petrice deserved to die for this.

Petrice smirked, clearly feeling as if she had already gotten away with her little scheme. “I have kept the fear of the Qunari fresh in every sermon, every prayer. They will know whose word to believe. When people learn of this attack they will rise, not zealots or the unknowing, but the true majority.”

Sekhmet’s fingers were gripping the banister tight and Anders was surprised that she hadn’t just killed Petrice with one of her throwing knives. “Great plan, until people start dying in a war with the Qunari.”

Petrice’s self righteousness was beyond belief, “To die untested would be the real crime. People need the opportunity to defend faith, starting with you.” She turned to her followers, her voice ringing out loudly. “Earn your reward in this life and next, these heretics must die.”

They attacked enmasse. Anders did his best to clear a path for Sekhmet to get to Petrice. But, the Mother was already gone and a second wave of fanatics was appearing from the shadows and from behind closed doors. 

Sebastian caught Anders attention. Their little Chantry prince was furious, firing off his arrows quickly. And he wasn’t taking any prisoners either. Each arrow found a deadly home. Seemed murder and inciting a war in the name of his religion bothered Sebastian. Did the man need a history lesson about his dear Chantry?

Aveline tried to just disable a few of their attackers but they just kept coming at her. One even crawled along on the ground still trying to attack them. Anders didn’t bother to try to be nice. They were nuts, and they murdered an innocent boy. They deserved to die.

And above the din of the fighting he could still hear his darling Sekhmet, angry and snarling. “I want your blood Petrice.” Loud screeches of frustration sounded off the stone walls, “I’m going to gut you and tie you up with your own intestines.” 

When it was over Sekhmet headed towards the steps no longer yelling, but still furious. “Her ass is mine.”

Sebastian grabbed her arm stopping her. She turned on him, teeth bared and weapon raised. He didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow at her as if to say, _“Really?”_ She dropped her hand and he gestured to the opposite stairwell where Grand Cleric Elthina was slowly descending the steps with Mother Petrice in tow.

Petrice’s voice floated down to them, “Do you see your Grace? Traitors attacking the very core of the Chantry, they defile with every step.”

Elthina’s eyes scanned the room, then watched Sekhmet as she crossed to stand in front of the stairway. “There is death in every corner, young mother. It is as you predicted…all too well.” She kept watching Sekhmet, barely sparing the others a glance.

Sekhmet nodded faintly, then without looking up taunted Petrice. “She’s on to you Petrice, quick, lie harder.”

And Petrice must have sensed that Sekhmet was right, because she lost her temper and snapped back at her. “Don’t you spout your Qunari filth. This is a hand of the Divine.”

The Grand Cleric turned to look at Petrice with the slightest hint of disdain on her features. “I have ears Mother Petrice, the Maker would have me use them.” Before facing Sekhmet again, looking at her expectantly.

Sekhmet seemed resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to get to kill Petrice with the Grand Cleric standing there. She focused on Seamus and how Petrice had tried to involve the Grand Cleric instead. “Viscount Dumar’s son is dead, killed here, in your name.”

The smallest lift of Elthina’s brow, “I’m sure my name won’t like that.” She turned back to the mother. “Petrice?”

Petrice was actually pouting. She’d killed an innocent man in an effort to try to start a war. And now that her word was being questioned she was pouting. Anders wanted to slap the pout right off her damned face. “Seamus Dumar was a Qunari convert; he came here to repent and was murdered.”

“Love or hate the Qunari, a blind nug can see she took this too far.” The lighter banter was apparently too much for Sekhmet and she sighed, her head falling forward the slightest bit. “He was a young man, his whole life ahead of him and she stole it from him, stole it from his father as well.”

Petrice’s eyes practically burned with fury and what looked more than a little bit like madness. “No price is too much when we speak of eternity.”

Elthina kept her voice calm and measured even in the face of what nearly constituted a confession by Petrice. “Eternity is long enough that we need not rush to meet it.”

The mad mother turned her ire on the Grand Cleric. “They deny the Maker.”

Finally, an emotion from the Grand Cleric, she stood up straighter, eyes hardening as she looked at Petrice. “And you diminish him, even as you claim his side. Andraste did not volunteer for the flame.” Anger still coursing through her she turned back, scanning over the group of them again before settling back on Sekhmet. “Serrah Hawke, you stand with the Captain of the Guard and the Viscount?” 

Sekhmet nodded, looking very tired.

“The young mother has erred in her judgement, a court will decide her fate. The Chantry respects the law and so must she.” As she finished speaking she moved around Petrice slowly moving up the stairs.

Incredulous, Mother Petrice called after her. “Grand Cleric? Grand Cleric?” 

Elthina never looked back just continued her incredibly slow ascent.

Petrice turned back to Sekhmet with real fear in her eyes. It wasn’t Sekhmet she needed to be afraid of though. An arrow suddenly embedded in the mother’s chest. Anders whipped around to see a Qunari standing in one of the doorways. He loosed a second arrow that sunk into the mother’s forehead with a sickening thump.

The Qunari stayed still, waiting for Sekhmet to turn and look at him before speaking. “We protect those of the Qun, we do not abandon our own.” With that, he disappeared back into the night.

Elthina finally stopped her slow ascent, but did not turn to look at them. She must have heard everything that transpired, including the death of Petrice, but didn’t react. “Please send for Viscount Dumar.” With that she continued up the stairs. None of them saw her for the rest of the night.

Aveline left to get the Viscount. Fenris stood over Petrice’s body as if protecting it. Sekhmet returned to Seamus, cradling his head in her lap and stroking his hair.

There were no tears this time but it was easy to see the sadness that settled heavily over her. Anders stayed close but out of her way. Something he had become incredibly adept at over the last several months.

When Dumar arrived he ran across the Chantry in a most undignified manner, his face already contorted in pain. Anders felt awful for him. There wasn’t anything he could think of that would be worse than outliving your only child.

He fell to his knees next to his son and Sekhmet carefully moved out of the way. She stood next to Anders, leaning against him a little as if for support. He reached down and squeezed her hand. This must be bringing up memories of her mother’s recent death for her. He almost wished he had never showed her the stupid letter.

“My son…murdered in the heart of the Chantry by those who held a sacred trust.” Viscount Dumar was hunched over his son, holding his head against his chest, tears running freely down his face. “What hope for this city when we fail our own so completely?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to save him.” Sekhmet’s voice was thick and Anders winced. It was so close to what she had said about her own mother.

At first it didn’t seem as if Dumar had heard her. Or even that he knew he wasn’t alone. Eventually, he spoke with a voice thick and choked with emotion. “Please Hawke, leave me.”

Sekhmet immediately headed out of the Chantry. Everyone followed her, including Sebastian. Anders didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to stay in the Chantry after all that either.

As the doors closed heavily behind them Sebastian spoke, clearly feeling the weight of what had just transpired. “Qunari and blood in the Chantry, the Viscount’s son dead, this won’t just go away.”

Anders nodded, Petrice was likely to get her war whether she was there to see it or not. “I don’t think anyone came out unscathed. What now?”

Sekhmet stopped, sighing deeply, “The Arishok’s the one to worry about. So we clean up and wait for trouble to find us.” She turned and looked at them, a smirk trying valiantly to hold its place on her lips. “At least it can’t get worse, today anyway. It’s pretty late.”

Aveline groaned in annoyance. “It’s pretty late? You ass.” She stepped forward, closer to Sekhmet. “Hawke, I thought this could wait…but, I need to speak to you at your home, very soon.”

“Fine, but not tonight, everyone goes home and sleeps tonight. Sebastian, you can take one of the guest rooms.” She didn’t wait to see if Sebastian or anyone would argue. She just went home.


	50. That's All She Wrote

Sekhmet jerked awake, covered in sweat. Her breathing was coming in fast little gasps and her heart was racing in her chest. She rolled to look at Anders, he was still asleep thankfully, his face smooth and years younger in slumber, the stress that marred his pretty features absent for now. Glad she hadn’t awoken him, she slipped carefully and quietly from the bed.

Splashing a little cold water on her face seemed to help pull the last remnants of the dream induced emotions from her. It was a familiar dream, too bad the familiarity didn’t rob it of its sting. She closed her eyes briefly, opening them quickly to banish the image waiting there.

Her brother’s broken, twisted body lying in the wasteland of the tainted Kocari Wilds. As clear as if she were still standing there she could see the bones poking through his skin where he was slammed so hard against the ground they broke into ragged splinters. His face crushed on one side from where the ogre had bashed him against the rocks. And the thing that never failed to make her cry, the odd and innocuous seeming bare foot from where one of his boots had come off during his struggle. 

She splashed water on her face again and made her way unsteadily to a chair by the fire, willing herself not to retch. At least she hadn’t cried out this time. Sometimes it seemed as if she and Anders spent half their nights waking each other with nightmares. Even still, she had more peaceful nights tucked against his side than she’d had alone in a very, very long time. 

And she knew where tonight’s nightmare had come from. Seeing sweet, earnest Seamus robbed of his life tonight had stirred the embers to life. Seamus, so young and idealistic, with his dark hair and blue eyes. She squeezed her eyes tight, yes, he’d reminded her of Carver before he’d become so bitter. 

She wiped furiously at her eyes and blinked back more tears. She was struggling not to take on the guilt of Seamus’ death. He’d been cool when she’d reached out and touched him. He’d been dead for quite a while. Even if she had rushed in as soon as she had known he was there and hadn’t waited for Aveline she wouldn’t have been in time to save him.

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She knew, _knew_ that Seamus’ death wasn’t her fault. It didn’t change how she felt about it though. And whether it was because the Viscount had sent her to get him or because he reminded her of Carver she didn’t know. All she knew was that it hurt.

Anders shifted on the bed and she looked over, holding her breath. Please don’t let him wake up. The beast that was his manifesto had grabbed him again and he’d been writing furiously for days. Pacing, scribbling, muttering before cursing, crumpling parchment and pitching it into the fire. 

She’d found him more than once staring blankly into the fire, fingers ink stained, ink smeared across his forehead or a cheek. And as sweet and adorable as he looked she couldn’t help but worry. Her darling mage was a perfectionist. Every word had to be just right, just so and if it wasn’t he scrapped the whole thing and started again.

The last time she had found him that way she’d tentatively touched his shoulder. He’d spun, almost looking as if he had been ready to attack. His whole posture had relaxed when he spotted her. That heart stopping smile had curved on his gorgeous lips and he’d swept her up into his arms, hugging her tight and kissing her.

His absolute pleasure in seeing her hadn’t washed away her concern completely. But, she’d been loathe to ask him about the manifesto and his sullen mood of a moment before. Anders happy, really and truly happy, was such an incredible gift.

On the bed, he still slept and she was relieved. A soft thanks slipped from her lips, directed to whatever force in the universe that had seen fit to bring them together. Anders’ pure passion, the depth of emotion he was capable of feeling had reawakened her, had quenched and reinvigorated her spirit. But with those incredible highs, the joy, and the love came his fear and pain. And the strength of them sometimes stopped her heart and took her breath away. 

The Templars had done that to him, whether he spoke about it or not. Just as the fear that had tainted Bethany’s life was a result of the Templars. How could anyone possibly think it was right that people as amazing as Anders and Bethany had to always be afraid. What good could come from terror so thick it painted a world as beautiful as this in the dark colors of paranoia?

She sighed as she looked into the fire. Instead of shaking away the dregs of her dream, her guilt, and her frustration she was digging herself deeper. Her eyes drifted shut and a tear slid down her cheek. If she wasn’t careful she’d slide into the deep well of her guilt and loss. 

The ghostly figures of Carver, mother and papa swam down there. And the specter of Bethany’s life would occasionally find her in those deep waters as well. She pulled her legs up, curling up tightly.

She couldn’t let that happen. She might not make it back this time. The dark waters might just decide to keep her, and she’d be happy to drown in their embrace. 

A long, slow deep breath in, filling her lungs to capacity before slowly letting it out calmed her, let her resurface. She turned her gaze briefly back to Anders and his magnificent body, now so beautifully on display, the sheets and blankets a puddle on the floor. 

Yes, he was reason enough to stay.

She’d stand at his side and fight Templars until she was too old to hold a weapon, too weak to stand. She’d fight at his side as long as he would let her. And she had a sneaking suspicion, one she hadn’t given voice to yet, that might have him fighting long after she were gone.

A snort slipped from her as turned back to the warmth of the fire. She was sliding all over the scale today wasn’t she? Maybe it was her vanity that had her taking such flights of fancy. 

And with a man as devastatingly beautiful as Anders, it made sense she was jealous of his easy looks sometimes. The man barely ran a brush through his hair half the time, tying it back in any haphazard way to get it out of his face. And he looked ridiculously gorgeous everytime, the bastard. 

Seeing him everyday, looking so damnably perfect whether he knew it or not, took its toll from time to time. She had to work to look halfway decent, hair combed with the wispy strands tightly under control, make-up, clothes. She’d even resorted to using the ridiculous skin creams her mother used to buy. She’d do that and more though to keep his eye.

And while her body was too small, and awkward, covered in scars, with breasts that were barely there and skin so pale she could probably pass as a bloodless corpse; Anders’ body was amazing. Perhaps there were women that would prefer a more traditional looking man, like Sebastian with his wide shoulders and narrow waist, or the ridiculously chiseled perfection of Fenris. But for her, it was Anders; to her _he_ was perfection, her exact ideal of what a man should be.

He was all long, sleek lines and this crazy grace. He made her think of a panther, well except for that glorious mane of his. His skin had taken on this honey golden hue with a faint smattering of freckles once he’d been in the sun a little. Unlike her, his scars seemed to add to his beauty rather than detract from it, even the twisted, knotted ones across his back he had tried to hide with the intricate tree tattoo she loved so much.

Bah, her mind was mush tonight. She was over tired and trying to avoid her dream. Not just the dream but all her nagging doubts had come with it. Doubts she thought she had dealt with and moved on from were putting in a reappearance tonight.

Like…Anders and the move. Why had she pushed him so hard to move in? She’d robbed herself of her own sanctuary. With Anders living with her, sharing her bed, she had nowhere to retreat to anymore. 

When the guilt or the melancholy got to be too much for her she would no longer be able to lock herself alone in her room. She had nowhere to hide and pretend that she just wasn’t feeling well. Andraste’s ass, she couldn’t even just pretend to not be feeling well with Anders living there, he was a damned healer.

What was she going to do without a way to hide her…her madness? Not that he didn’t know, after her mother’s death he’d been able to see that for himself, up close and personal. But did he suspect the truth? The madness… she was pretty sure it was _always_ there. She just hid it better usually, or at least liked to think she did.

“Sekhmet?” Anders’ voice was soft and fuzzy sounding as he looked around the room with glazed eyes.

“I’m here.” She replied softly, not wanting him to worry. 

His gaze lit upon her and he smiled, lazily. How was it that even after a year of living together that smile still made her feel weak? “Come back to bed, my arms miss you.”

And like that the darkness starting to swirl inside of her again was snuffed out. Pushed away by Anders: his soft brown eyes, those gorgeous lips smiling at her, the long, elegant fingers of his hand beckoning her, and that ridiculous sweetness. And the best part? The love that radiated from him like the heat from the fire. No matter what was wrong with her, he loved her. How could she possibly resist?

She stood and walked back, picking up the blankets before crawling into the bed beside him. “Sorry if I woke you.”

He tucked her against him and kissed her hair. “I felt you missing, I felt…empty.” He sounded sleepily confused when he said the last word. Soft smile still on his face he inhaled slowly. “I forbid you to have any more bad dreams, love.”

“If only it were so simple.” She nestled against his chest, content. In his embrace it was hard to feel anything but happy and content.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He prompted gently. He meant well, he just wanted to be there for her, to be supportive. Talking would just make it worse, bring it into sharper focus and etch the images more deeply into her mind.

She gave him a sly smile, “I’d rather make love again.”

He frowned for a moment, but rolled to his back easily enough when she pushed him gently. When she reached to stroke him to hardness his frown deepened, “Sekhmet, stop.”

She placed her fingers on his lips to silence him as she moved to straddle him. 

He stopped her, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “I said stop. Whether its grief or a bad dream, I’m not okay with you using me. Understood?”

She nodded; the thought never even occurred to her that it would look like she was using him. Anders could forgive a lot of things, but she was starting to suspect being used was not one of them. And as sure as she was that there was a story behind his vehemence she knew better than to push him. 

Leaning forward she kissed him quickly, “Sorry, love, I wasn’t thinking.”

The hardness bled from his face and he gazed at her, fondly again. His long fingers traced over her cheek, “Alright, let’s forget about it.” He shifted onto his side and pulled her back against him, wrapping himself around her until she was completely enveloped by him. “Let’s try to get some more sleep. And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll ravish you when the morning sun kisses your skin.”

She couldn’t help but smile, and she settled more fully against him. Even if by ‘ravish’ he meant ‘treat like a delicate flower’ the fact that he was teasing her meant he really wasn’t angry with her, and didn’t feel hurt. For that, she was extremely grateful. Almost as grateful as she was for the feeling of him curled up around her.

********

Sekhmet stretched on the small sofa in the library, grinning at the delicious aches from her morning romp with Anders. He’d been magnificent this morning, playful. And even though he had been sweet and tender there had been a slight desperateness to him. He’d made love to her for hours, until she’d been ready to beg for mercy.

It was a full on smile now, she couldn’t help it. Anders had known exactly what she needed, always knew what she needed somehow. How did she get so damned lucky?

Okay, so maybe part of it had Sebastian sleeping in the guest room down the hall, even knowing that she couldn’t stop smiling. Her only regret was that Sebastian had slinked away before she and Anders had been able to tear themselves out of bed. And leaving that bed had been such a chore, she’d wanted to stay in all day with Anders.

“Someone’s thinking about me, I think.” Anders was leaning casually against the doorframe, legs crossed at the ankles arms folded casually across his middle with a smile to match her own and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

She giggled and climbed off the sofa, “Can you blame me? You made sure I’d be thinking of you all day.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk, “I didn’t hear any complaints.”

She pulled his arms apart and leaned against him, standing on tip toe and planted a soft kiss on his lips, “And you won’t. I feel amazing.”

His lids lowered a bit and his eyes focused back on her lips, he bent down, arms moving, one around her waist, the other cupping under her ass and he lifted her up. Surprised, she wrapped her arms around his neck and nearly squealed in delight when he kissed her, ravenously. He shifted and kicked the door shut carrying her over to the sofa she had just vacated.

He laid her down and followed, never breaking the kiss. Finally, he tore his mouth away panting. “You impossible woman, how do you do this to me?”

She giggled again, “Do this to you? I didn’t do anything.”

He kissed her again, hard and brief. “Liar, you were thinking about this morning with that seductive little smile of yours.” He nuzzled her neck, “I love the way you smell, it’s so incredibly you.” One hand pulled her body tighter against him, even as he was sprawled awkwardly half on and half off the sofa, being too tall by far to fit on it. 

He paused for a moment in his tender caresses, looking at her face like something had just occurred to him. “Love, if you’re sore from this morning you need to tell me.”

She chuckled, “Seriously? You’re stopping because you’re worried I might be sore from this morning?”

He pulled back, his face so serious suddenly. “It’s not funny Sekhmet. I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t want to bring you any pain, especially by making love to you. If you’re sore, let me heal you.” 

And before she could say a word sapphire blue magic coiled out from his hands enfolding her. The cool tingling tendrils wrapped around her erasing all traces of her earlier pleasures. Part of her was angry, maybe she had wanted those aches, she liked them. But the bigger part caught the worry in her beloved’s eyes.

She kissed him again, softly and gently. “Okay, they’re gone. But for the record, I loved it. Every time I moved it was a delicious reminder of this morning.”

“Memories are going to have to be enough.” He lowered his head and rested it on her chest. “I won’t hurt you, I’ll be more careful in the future.” 

She sighed softly and stroked his hair as he slid his arms around her. Her dear sweet mage, just where had he gotten these foolish notions about love? Growing up in that tower, never actually seeing love had somehow warped his idea of what it should be.

Had he read books about love, would the Templars allow such a thing? They probably would, if just to be cruel, letting them read about what they could never have. And it seemed the most likely considering his great fondness for reading. 

How badly written would the books need to be to give him this warped impression of love and making love? Perhaps she should add some of Varric’s books to her library. She needed new books anyways; Anders had nearly devoured the entire library already. His appetite for books was voracious indeed.

She held him in that strange position for several long minutes before there was a light tapping at the library door followed by yelling voices. She couldn’t make out the words of the two women yelling but she did hear Bodahn’s voice above them both, scolding them.

“Ladies, control yourselves. Mistress Hawke will be with you both, shortly. There is no reason to yell at each other in such a fashion.”

She released Anders and he pulled himself off her with a tired sounding sigh, “Another calamity for you to fix?”

She stood and righted her twisted and slightly rumpled clothes. “It sounds like Aveline and Izzy, that can’t be right, can it?”

He shrugged, “Stranger things have been known to happen. Maybe Aveline came running after Izzy to arrest her but she got here first.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She really hoped that wasn’t the case. Either way she’d be stepping on someone’s toes. “I suppose we can’t just hide in here all night?”

He chuckled, “I’m all for that idea, but we can’t leave poor Bodahn at the mercy of those two harpies.”

She mock scowled, “I hate it when you’re right.”

He traced a finger over a line of her tattoo on her cheekbone. “Liar, you love me and everything I do.”

“That’s only because you’re amazing.” She smiled for him, even though the voices in the next room were getting loud again.

“Am I?”

“Stop fishing for compliments, darling, it’s unbecoming.” She squeezed his hand gently them moved around him to open the door.

“This is important. Don’t interrupt with your selfish prattle.” Aveline’s voice grated on Sekhmet’s nerves immediately.

“Get off your high horse. I have problems too.” Izzy shot back. 

And how bad was it that Sekhmet was kind of siding with Izzy? She paused with her hand on the handle not ready to open it just yet. She had to steel herself for what was to come. From Anders’ tender embrace into the middle of an argument. Not the best of choices she’d made lately, though it was mostly being made for her by the yelling in the next room.

“Huh, what drink should I order and who’s the father?” Aveline was playing with her claws out apparently.

Anders placed his hand on hers on the knob, “I’m here, come on before it turns into a real fight.”

An angry growl from Isabela, “Oh you little…”

Anders shoved the door open, nudging Sekhmet forward as he did so. “Knock it off you two, now. Or you can both leave.” He snarled at the both of them.

Sekhmet wasn’t at all surprised to see Isabela stop just short of slapping Aveline.

Aveline, ignoring Izzy completely, walked towards Sekhmet and Anders. “Hawke, the Arishok is sheltering two fugitives who have ‘converted’ to the Qun. He must be convinced to release them. He’s already feared because of Petrice. If people start to think he can ignore the law…I need your help so this doesn’t get out of hand.”

Suddenly, it was Izzy rushing towards her. “I’m going to die.” There was real fear in Isabela’s eyes and Sekhmet realized that regardless of Aveline’s problem she had to help Izzy. “There, got your attention?” Proud Izzy, still trying to sound glib even while she was clearly scared, “Real problem.”

Sekhmet moved through the doorway to lean against the table. Anders remained where he was, leaning in the doorway watching both women carefully. She couldn’t help but notice how tense he was, he was stiff even while he was straining to look casual. 

He hated her dealing with the Arishok. And she couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t terribly fond of it herself. The big man seemed like he was always a half second away from snapping and running on a murderous rampage.

Isabela moved closer and started talking again, “Remember the relic, the one Castillon is going to kill me over? A man called Wall-eyed Sam has it. If you help me get it Castillon won’t kill me.” She paused, her eyes flicking to the floor before she uttered a very desperate sounding, “please”.

Seeing the proud pirate beg, too ashamed to even look at her while she said it struck a chord with Sekhmet.

Aveline, however, wasn’t moved. She rounded on Isabela, scowling. “I’m trying to save the entire city from rioting against the Qunari.”

Isabela, having stripped herself emotionally bare didn’t recover quickly. She turned away from Aveline and away from Sekhmet so neither of them could see her face. “Well…maybe it’s connected.”

“What?” Irritation and suspicion filled the Guard Captain’s voice.

“I’m just saying, maybe it will help. It’ important to someone right?” Tricky little pirate only telling half the truth.

Too bad she likely wouldn’t tell Sekhmet the whole story. Isabela had more secrets than anyone else Sekhmet knew. And considering who her companions were, that was a pretty spectacular feat. She’d ask, but Isabela would give her some watered down bullshit, same as always.

Aveline sighed, possibly sensing defeat. “Now you start being responsible? Shit.”

She glanced at Anders and he shrugged. He wasn’t ready to help either one of them clearly. Her dangerous mage was more cautious than she was. Still, perhaps he was right; a little more information couldn’t hurt.

Aveline had an entire garrison at her command, so why had she come knocking on Sekhmet’s door? “This looks like an issue for you and your guards.” Granted it was Qunari, but she had the man power at her disposal, “quite a few of them.”

Aveline gave a faint nod, “Sending a full patrol would just increase tension, but you’re right. I am the Captain, it’s my responsibility.” Then quickly added, “But, I suspect the Viscount was hoping I would bring this to you.”

The Viscount, another pang hit her quickly for poor Seamus and quickly dispersed. If the Viscount wanted her, why send Aveline at all? “Then he should have come himself.”

Aveline’s lips thinned, her irritation slowly getting the best of her. “Perhaps, but it’s understandable he’s not at his best. I’d like to help him if I can.”

That was Captain Aveline, always wanting to help a day late, and a copper short as her papa used to say. “Isn’t it odd that someone would run to the Qunari?”

“They’re elves accused of murder, maybe they feel they have nothing to lose by fleeing the Alienage.”

They must have murdered a human if Aveline was after them. No one bothered much at all if elves killed each other. Still, “And if their conversion is genuine?”

Aveline hesitated finally; perhaps she hadn’t considered the possibility. “I…don’t know. But how many more will try if I allow this. Justice must be respected.”

Anders scoffed in the doorway. Aveline ignored him.

She still didn’t completely understand the tizzy Aveline was in over arresting a couple of elves. “You’re expecting trouble?” 

Aveline nodded, “After what happened to the Viscount’s son, yes. I’m hoping the Qunari aren’t looking for a fight. I’m hoping they’ll be reasonable but we’ll see.”

Poor Seamus, all of his trying to make people more accepting of the Qunari, to not fear them had been torn to shreds by his death. The Qunari had viciously avenged his death, sparking even more fear. And it had left the Viscount a shattered man. Perhaps he would heal in time, but she wasn’t sure.

She turned instead to Isabela, waiting so impatiently for her turn to speak. “You’re sure this is the relic you’re after?

Izzy nodded eagerly, “I’ve had my ear to the ground for a while. There was a description of the book, it’s the right one.”

Anders quirked an interested brow, “Book? I thought you didn’t know what the relic was?”

Isabela looked at him nervously before turning to Sekhmet. When Sekhmet held her gaze, clearly waiting for an answer she fumbled over her words. “Well…I…I know it’s a book but that’s all I know. It’s written in a foreign tongue.” Irritation sparked eventually over being caught in her lie. “Honestly, what does it matter? It’ll save me from Castillon so I need it.”

Izzy, was right. What did it really matter what it was if it would save her from Castillon who had been hunting Izzy for years. She rarely asked for help in dealing with the men he sent after her but Sekhmet heard more than enough about it from Varric. There was still something she needed to know, not that it would change whether she would help or not, just what and who she would bring with her. “Who’s involved in this exchange?”

Obviously relieved, Isabela responded quickly. “Tevinter mages, I don’t they’ll look kindly on us interrupting. Bring a sword, or twelve.” 

Andraste’s ass, Tevinter mages? That was just bloody fantastic. Tonight was going to be oh, so much fun. 

She looked to Anders again and it seemed he agreed with her first thought. He inclined his head ever so slightly towards Isabela. She nodded back then turned back to the two women. “Alright, Isabela, we’ll take care of your problem first.”

Aveline’s head jerked from her to Isabela and back, “Are you serious? I’m trying to stop a war from breaking out and you’re going to run after some stupid relic?”

She pushed down the flash of anger, “You have the entire guard, Isabela has no one. Not to mention, I don’t think waiting for a few hours before trying to arrest a couple elves is going to start a war.”

“You trust her that much?” Aveline looked at Isabela with distaste.

“Probably not, I wouldn’t.” Isabela looked to her with a smirk.

“There are very few I trust that much.” Only three in fact.

Anders stepped up beside her, his hand skimming down her back. “Do you want to bring anyone else?”

She smiled, even knowing it wasn’t going to please him. “Yes, we’re going to bring Fenris.” 

Without a word Bodahn disappeared from the room. Off to get Fenris, no doubt, because he was amazing like that. And with Bodahn’s disappearance Sandal headed off to his room. Probably to play with some of the enchanting materials she had recently purchased for him.

Orana too disappeared, heading off towards the training room. Sekhmet suppressed a smile. They were all so used to her little adventures they immediately started helping without being asked. Whatever darkness and hardship was in her life, she was blessed too.

Aveline scowled, “And are you planning to help me at some point?”

Her lightening mood shattered, her first instinct was to tell Aveline to shove it. But, the truth was no one was better equipped than her to deal with the Arishok. “I’ll get to the compound as soon as I can.”

“I’m just supposed to wait for you?” Aveline asked incredulously.

Another flare of irritation rippled through her. “Wait for me or not, I don’t really care. It’s _your_ job, Aveline.”

Isabela flashed Aveline a triumphant smirk and after a moment Aveline practically stomped from the estate. Sekhmet was glad to see her go, since her mother’s death she hadn’t been able to stand the sight of the Guard Captain. 

Anders pushed off from the door frame and finally entered the room. “Do you want to wait while we get ready?” 

Izzy shook her head, “No, I need to get a few things from the Hanged Man. Meet me outside the Foundry District.” She left quickly, clearly eager to get this done.

Fenris was sober, thankfully, and he joined them quickly. With Orana’s help both Sekhmet and Anders were ready by the time he arrived at the estate. Anders and Fenris glared at each other but neither one of them tried to provoke the other at least.

“So, what exactly are we helping Isabela with now?” Fenris queried.

“We’re going to stop some Tevinter mages from getting what they want.” That was sure to stir him.

He smiled and it was almost as beautiful as Anders’ smile, but not quite. “Well then, let’s get moving.”

Isabela was waiting for them right outside the foundry district. She quickly fell in with the rest of them as they walked through the wide opening of the district. Immediately, they were attacked by a group of Qunari snarling about their relic.

When they lay dead Sekhmet grabbed Izzy’s arm, raw anger blazing inside of her. She might not have needed to know much, but the chance the Qunari would show up trying to claim whatever the Void they were trying to collect was definitely something she considered need to know. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on Izzy, or am I going home now?”

Isabela shifted uncomfortably, not daring to look at her. “Ah yes, there is a slight chance that the Qunari want the relic.”

Anders was apparently as angry as she was which didn’t bode well for Isabela. “Enough bullshit already, what is this relic and why do the Qunari want it?”

Izzy took a half step backwards, clearly wary of the two of them. “I’ve always known what the relic is.”

“No shit.” Fenris interjected from behind them.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot again. “I just didn’t want to worry you. The relic is a handwritten text by that philosopher of theirs Keslan, Cousland,” she clicked her tongue in frustration. “Whatever his name is.”

Fenris moved forward, eyes wide. “Koslun?”

A small smile from Isabela, “That’s the one.”

Fenris became rigid, “The founder of their religion, the most revered being in their history?” Isabela took another step backwards, “That text would be sacred beyond measure.”

Even Sekhmet could hear the underlying message. He thought she was an idiot.

Still looking rather cowed Isabela continued on. “I stole it from them, they followed me here to reclaim it and its why they’re still in Kirkwall. They can’t leave the free marches without it.”

“And the Tevinter’s want it for their little war.” Sekhmet closed her eyes, a headache was trying to assert itself. “They’ll probably just burn the damned thing.” An idea struck her, “Maybe giving it back to the Qunari would help solve Aveline’s problem.”

Isabela looked stricken, then angry. “That mess is over a couple of elves. I need it to save my own skin.” She reined herself in and started again, “Look the book’s right in this building and I’m not letting it slip away again. It’s the only thing that will get Castillon off my back. Please, tell me you’ll give the relic to me.”

Wow, begging twice in one night. She really was scared. Sekhmet nodded, “It’s yours if it’ll get rid of Castillon.”

“Are you sure?” Anders asked quietly.

“Yes, Castillon can have it, and take it out of the Free Marches and the Qunari will have to follow. Right?” She turned to look at Fenris.

He nodded in agreement, though he did not look at all pleased.

“Really?” there was genuine surprise on Isabela’s face. “I…wasn’t expecting that. It’s nice to have someone on my side for once. Come one then, no time to waste.”

They walked in to see a very clearly terrified Wall-eyed Sam facing several Tevinter mages. As she and the others moved closer Fenris nudged her and pointed to the upper floor of the foundry. Qunari were starting to slowly slink out of door ways to line the railing above where the transaction was taking place.

One of Qunari stepped forward and shouted, “The Tome of Koslun will not fall into Tevinter hands.”

Wall-eyed Sam bolted for the door and Isabela ran after him, calling out, “He’s getting away.”

And as much as Sekhmet wanted to follow her she suddenly found herself being pulled into a fight between the Qunari and the mages. It was bloody and messy and drawn out but eventually they were all dead. She’d escaped fairly unscathed for once and was grateful.

Fenris and Anders weren’t quite so lucky. Fenris had limped over to a wall and immediately leaned against it breathing heavily. She’d lost track of him during the fight in the bright flashes of the mages’ magic. Clearly he’d been hurt fairly badly. As he slumped against the wall his hand pressed to an oozing wound in his side. 

She moved to him pulling a poultice from her belt. “Here, let me see.” 

He shook his head, “No, I’m afraid I’m going to need the…” he stopped and gritted his teeth, “need Anders to heal it.”

That made her worry, Fenris hated to be healed by Anders. “Just let me see it.”

“I’m holding myself together. If I let go I don’t think even your healer would be able to fix it.” He was sweating, and his skin was starting to look ashy.

She whirled looking for Anders; he wouldn’t come near Fenris unless asked. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him kneeling on the floor, biting one of his belts and trying to pull an arrow from his thigh. There was another in his shoulder and a third in his back. Sweet Maker, he’d never even made a sound. Wow, she had failed him utterly.

She looked back to Fenris and decided to help him to the floor so he wouldn’t pass out and make his injuries worse. Slowly, carefully she lowered him, then pulled bandages from her pack and wrapped them tight around him. He only moved his hand slowly bit by bit as she wrapped him up so she never saw the full extent of the injury but the bandage was soaked through as fast as she could wrap it. She put the poultice in his hand and told him to drink it. It wouldn’t fix it, but it would buy them time until Anders could help.

Anders had managed to pull the arrow from his thigh, a muffled shout ripping from him as he did so. He was sitting back on his thighs looking tired when she reached him. He glanced up with a look that was almost an apology as she moved behind him.

“What happened?” She asked as she looked at the arrow in his shoulder. It had gone straight through and wouldn’t be much of an issue to remove. She knelt down and looked at the one in his back, cringing at what she saw. It had missed his spine, but was still embedded deep. If she tried to push it through though it would puncture his lung and possibly nick his heart.

Dammit, how had she let him get hurt like that? This was awful, she’d failed to support her mage, to back him up and now he was seriously injured. She looked again at the arrow embedded in his back.

She was going to have to cut it out. She trembled a little at the prospect. Anders was the healer, not her. What she knew about anatomy was elementary at best. What if she did something that killed him or that he couldn’t fix?

“That bitch dispelled my shield and I got nailed in the back. Knocked the wind out of me so it took a moment to get my shield back up.” He was quiet and she could tell he was in pain.

She moved to the front of him, “The one in your…”

His thumb wiped a tear from her cheek she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Shh, it’s not that bad.” He took a shallow breath. “I…” he looked down, “I’m going to let Justice come through. Once he’s taken control you pull the arrows out, okay?”

“What? No, Anders the one in your back, it’s…”

“It’s fine. If he’s in control it won’t hurt when you take it out, okay?”

She looked at him, still unsure. “Justice can’t heal.”

He sneered a little. “Then your _pet_ better hope Justice gives me control back so I can fix him, huh?”

She narrowed her gaze, glaring at him. “Don’t be cruel. I meant he couldn’t heal your injuries.”

The sneer disappeared and he lowered his head. “I’m hoping he won’t have to. Are you ready?”

She nodded, even though she was worried. Not about Justice, he would be fine, but about how bad the injury to his back might be. When she realized Anders couldn’t see her nod she whispered hoarsely, “Yes.” 

Anders' breathing slowed and his shoulders slumped a little as he tried to relax, to let Justice take control. Justice came through is a brilliant cascade of sky blue flames and black smoke that smelled strongly of raspberries. That was intriguing; she usually didn’t smell much of anything when it came to Justice. Her thoughts were elsewhere though.

********

Justice shivered in anticipation. Sekhmet…Hawke, was going to touch him again. His excitement waned considerably though when he saw how upset she was.

He tried to keep his resonate voice soft, to be soothing like Anders, “He does not lie. I feel no pain.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay, where do you want to start?”

Still anxious, but at least some of it was gone now. He watched her closely for a moment; she was still a puzzle he could not quite figure out. She and Anders both needed him to be responsible and get this done. He could contemplate her another time, once Anders was back in control. “The shoulder.” He stated simply, almost disappointed when she moved behind him and he could no longer see her.

These brief interactions were revealing all sorts of things to him. He liked seeing her looking at him. She never looked at it him in fear or disgust. She looked at him no differently than she did her other companions. She didn’t have the same glimmer as when she looked at Anders, but he did not expect it.

Her hand settled on Anders’ shoulder and for the briefest moment Justice thought about incinerating Anders’ armor. The feel of her touch was so muted through the leather, all he could feel was pressure and a vague warmth. Nothing at all like the tingles he had felt the last time.

Her hand on Anders’ shoulder was meant to soothe him. It tugged at him. Tickled at a hint of pain and…and gratitude. The more she treated him like a person, like a man, the more he found himself fascinated by her. The irony that these emotions echoed Anders’ own sentiments when they had first met Hawke was not lost on him.

He could feel her tension though as she shifted to grab the arrow and the arrow head to snap it off. He searched Anders’ mind and found that it would probably be a good idea to distract her from what she was doing. He did not have Anders’ gift for words, but he would try.

“I was pleased you liked the pins.”

She moved, her leg brushing Anders’ back as she snapped off the arrowhead. “It was very thoughtful of you. I appreciated it, even if Anders didn’t.”

“He is worried about your…” what was the word Anders had used, “trophies.”

She laughed, even as she pulled the arrow from his shoulder stumbling backwards. “Woah, that was too easy.”

Justice nodded, craning his head to look at her. “I am not built the same inside as Anders.”

“I guess not.” She knelt behind him and tentatively touched the arrow in Anders’ back. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, proceed.” The arrow in Anders’ back slipped out with the same ease. 

She stood and came back to look at him again. “Thank you, for doing this for him.”

He nearly told her he had done it for her, to make it easier for her but did not for some reason. Instead, not wanting to miss another opportunity, he reached out and touched her hand softly. Those electric tingles shot across Anders’ skin and filled Justice. He let his fingers slid away, that was all he had wanted, just a little reminder. “Of course.” He let go of Anders’ body as he let go of her hand.

********

Anders immediately winced, he hadn’t been as lucky as he’d hoped. A little magic would fix it though. He healed himself quickly. Now he knew Justice didn’t make his injuries disappear, just made it easier to pull things out. And suddenly, teaching Justice to heal seemed much more important than it had before. 

Sekhmet was still watching him closely. 

He took her hands and stood with her, “See, good as new.” He crossed quickly to Fenris who watched his approach with wary, yet somehow grateful eyes. Anders would take it. Maker knew he wouldn’t get any other thanks from the elf.

He knelt, probing Fenris’ injury with magic. It was bad, very bad. And Fenris knew it, was watching Anders trying to gauge his face. But Anders had plenty of practice and kept his face carefully neutral. “Let’s get this healed up shall we?”

Fenris gritted his teeth and nodded. 

Anders briefly thought about asking Sekhmet to leave. With the amount of magic he was going to have to pour into Fenris to heal him he was going to get a huge kickback from Fenris. This could get uncomfortable and awkward quickly. “She’s going to see this,” he whispered to Fenris.

He nodded again, “No helping it.”

“Okay, here we go.” He slowly let his magic wrap around Fenris’ middle, sinking in, seeking the wound. 

Fenris’ lyrium tattoos started to hum, not so most people could hear it, but Anders could. That seductive call licking at his brain, waking up his senses and tickling at Justice. He licked his lips as his skin started to prickle in response to the lyrium. On the few occasions he had dared to heal Fenris, like after the Qunari spear to his shoulder, or his head after the Tal-Vashoth incident, he never used more magic than this. 

They never spoke about the one time he had used more, neither of them really willing to admit it had even happened. Anders just knew that Fenris had growled at him, had nearly ripped his head off calling him a filthy mage. Anders had been left totally confused as to what had happened both to Fenris and himself. Eventually, he had figured it out and had been so angry at Fenris’ former master he hadn’t been able to think straight for days. 

This time Anders had to use more magic though, at this rate Fenris would bleed out before he was healed.

“Just do it, mage.” Fenris growled.

Anders took a deep breath, steeling himself the best that he could and unspooled more magic, much more. Fenris’ tattoos lit up and assaulted Anders. The smell of lyrium filled the air, even Sekhmet gasped.

Justice stirred, coiling and uncoiling inside of Anders, writhing with pleasure, eager for more. Anders shifted a little when he saw Fenris get hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the heavy leather leggings he always wore. 

“Venhedis” Fenris cursed, his hands balling into fists.

“What are you doing to him?” Sekhmet asked.

Anders’ own mind was becoming foggy with pleasure. “Healing him.” As the lyrium brushed against his skin like soft fur he bit his lip to stop himself from moaning.

Sekhmet knelt next to Fenris. “You don’t like being healed because you _like_ it?” She laughed, “No wonder Beth blushed when she healed you.”

“I don’t like it because _he_ likes it.” Fenris ground out right before a moan slipped from him.

She looked at Anders, and what was he supposed to say? Granted, the front of his armor was long enough to cover his rigid cock, but his cheeks were flushed and he knew she could see the glaze in his eyes. Yes, most of the pleasure was from Justice, but Anders felt it all. She didn’t ask him anything, instead she looked back to Fenris and blushed before standing quickly and walking away.

“What’s wrong with her?” Fenris gasped out, actually voluntarily talking to Anders.

“I think she’s imagining us doing this naked.” Anders tried not to picture it himself.

“I can’t believe Isabela missed this.” She giggled.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Anders finished and moved away from Fenris as quickly as he could. He knew Fenris felt violated, and had good reason to. Fenris stood slowly and adjusted himself. He looked to Anders, searching his face again. Was his looking for mirth, or maybe he expected Anders to feel smug?

All Anders felt was disgusted. Every time he healed Fenris he felt like he had done something unspeakable to the elf. After what Danarius had clearly done to Fenris is was practically rape just to heal him.

The idea of it doused his arousal immediately. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, surprising even himself.

Fenris looked stunned for a moment, then lowered his head a little and turned away. “Are we ready to go now?” He headed out of the foundry and Sekhmet and Anders followed.

“Watching him get aroused from your healing turns you on that much?” Sekhmet asked quietly.

He shook his head, “No, it’s the lyrium. Justice…he likes it, a lot and it’s the only way my body knows how to process what Justice is feeling. It’s awkward and uncomfortable for both of us. Neither of us wants to react that way.” The one tiny positive thing that came out of it was that Anders felt reinvigorated, filled to the brim and ready to go.

She still looked confused, “But I’ve seen you heal him before and…” 

“Usually, if I have to heal him I do it very slowly so it doesn’t bother us as much. The more magic I use, the more his lyrium reacts and the more Justice responds.” He shook his head. “Ask me about it later when we’re alone if you need to know more, please.”

She looked at him, probably saw he was still feeling guilty and dirty and left it alone. As they exited the foundry they found Wall-eyed Sam dead, his body amongst the fallen Qunari. To his tunic was pinned a piece of parchment.

“Son of a bitch, she ran off didn’t she? I suppose she didn’t trust I would really give her the damned book.” She picked up the parchment and read it aloud. “Dear Hawke, I have the relic, and I am gone. I’m sorry it has to be this way. You’ve been a loyal ally, but this is best for us both. You promised me the relic, and I know you’ll fight Castillon for me, but I don’t want this. I’ve dragged you too far into this mess already. You don’t have to forgive me, but I hope you understand. Isabela”

“Once a thief, always a thief,” Fenris snarled as soon as she had finished reading the letter. If Anders didn’t know any better he’d say Fenris was hurt. Had he started to develop feelings for Isabela during their dalliances?

Sekhmet just sighed, “Come on. Aveline will be waiting for us at the Qunari compound. We still have to deal with that mess.”


	51. Family Reunion

Sekhmet hurried up the steps to the Qunari compound. Aveline was standing outside its gates with a small compliment of men. The Qunari guard on duty outside the gates looked to Sekhmet and bobbed his head the tiniest amount in acknowledgment. She was surprised, that gesture could almost be construed as courtesy.

“Glad to see you could make it.” Aveline’s tone was still bitter.

“Do not start with me Aveline, or so help me I will go home and let you deal with the Arishok yourself.” She snarled, the events of the night so far had already left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her anger only grew on the way to the docks.

Isabela hadn’t given her all the necessary information. She’d kept things to herself before, but never anything that would jeopardize Sekhmet or her companions. If Sekhmet had known about the Qunari possibly showing up she would have brought more people to help. For fuck’s sake, Sebastian and Varric were both on the way.

Then she’d left Sekhmet, Anders and Fenris to face the Qunari and Tevinter mages on their own. A fight which had seen Anders and Fenris injured badly. Fenris’ injuries resulting in a healing that upset both Fenris and Anders greatly. 

They were both still sullen and quiet, following silently behind her on the way to the docks, standing even farther apart than usual. Anders looked so upset and disgusted she just wanted to hug him, but he wouldn’t welcome it in public. She wasn’t sure he’d even welcome it if they were at home right now. And Fenris, seemed torn between shame and this impotent rage. 

Just the idea of it made her ball her fists in fury. Once this mess with Aveline was dealt with she was going to track down Isabela and hold her to account for the whole damned fiasco. You did not hurt people Sekhmet cared about. And if you were stupid enough to hurt them, you paid the price. Isabela would pay. Sekhmet didn’t even care that she’d left with the book. 

Aveline nodded in understanding, for which Sekhmet was grateful. “They won’t let us in with so many people.”

“Then send your guards back to the barracks.”

“Hawke, this is a city guard matter. I’m basically bringing you in to try to mediate.” Aveline kept her voice low to keep the others from overhearing.

She wanted to scream in frustration. She didn’t want to walk into the Qunari compound without Fenris and Anders, but unfortunately she could see Aveline’s point. “Let’s at least see how many of us they will let in.”

“Fine, but it won’t be all of us.”

And she’d been right. The Qunari guard would let four of them enter. Sekhmet tried to convince Aveline to at least let her take Anders. If worse came to worse Justice could deal some serious punishment. The Guard Captain wouldn’t hear of it though. She thought bringing Anders might complicate things if the Qunari knew he was a mage.

Finally, against her better judgment, she agreed to go with Aveline. Of course, when Aveline wanted her to send Anders and Fenris home so they weren’t ‘lurking’ around the compound it started another argument. Anders had stepped in to stop that one. He’d told her there was an entrance to Darktown not far away. He’d check on the clinic and Fenris would head to the Hanged Man.

So, she walked into the compound with Aveline and two city guard’s she’d never met before. She kept trying to convince herself they were just there to discuss arresting a couple elves. But, she never liked going into the Qunari compound unprepared and as they entered the compound she felt as vulnerable as if she were naked.

The Arishok stood and descended the steps as she and Aveline approached. Sekhmet was immediately on edge. The Arishok never deigned to come down to the stairs to talk to her before. She glanced around quickly; were there more Qunari standing around than usual?

The Arishok hefted his massive axe onto his shoulder as he surveyed the small group. His eyes landed on Sekhmet and she received another slight tilt of his head in recognition. Twice in one day? Alright, that was interesting. As they group stopped in front of him he spoke, “Shanedan.”

Aveline, clearly feeling anxious spoke for them. “Greetings Arishok, we come regarding the elven fugitives that took refuge here.”

The Arishok looked at Aveline briefly, “Irrelevant,” before turning his gaze back to Sekhmet. “I would speak to Hawke about the relic stolen from my grasp.”

Her unease was temporarily muted by her anger again, “One of my _former_ companions stole it.” 

“Her part was clear, your admission is welcome.” This was turning into an odd meeting. The Arishok was clearly angry, but this was the most respectful he’d ever been to her. She really had no idea what to make of it all.

“An issue for another time,” Aveline interrupted, still respectful but wanting to stay on her task. “We’re here for the fugitives.”

“The elves are now viddathari; they have chosen to submit to the Qun.” He glanced at Sekhmet again, “They will be protected.” The meaning was clear; they would protect the elves as they had avenged Seamus.

“Have they truly converted?” Sekhmet asked, their conversion could very well be real, depending on what prompted this whole mess in the first place. Yet, the Qunari compound had other advantages, did it not? “Or are they just using you as a shield?”

“They have chosen, and so have I.” The Arishok’s lip curled in distaste. “You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots or the corruption of this city. You will understand why I must do this.” He was speaking with an almost soothing, hypnotizing cadence. His voice said he had thought a long time over whatever was to come next and had a real conviction in his decision.

So why was the hair on the back of her neck standing up as if in anticipation of something terrible? 

“Let us look at your ‘dangerous criminals’,” he gestured behind them and they turned to see two elves escorted by two large Qunari warriors. “Speak viddathari, who did you murder, and why?” A clear order from a man who had been giving orders all his life.

The elf stepped forward, looking at Aveline with contempt. “A city guard forced himself on my sister.” He shifted uneasily on his feet and his voice took on a subtle sadness, “We reported him, or tried to,” replaced again with more anger, “but they did nothing about it, not matter what we said. So my brothers and I paid him a visit.”

Sekhmet could see no lie in the elf’s face. Aveline had her here to avenge a damned rapist? And it was even worse than that, wasn’t it. She was protecting her own ass. One of her guards raped someone and she failed to do anything about it until the rapist ended up dead.

Sekhmet was ready to leave. Let Aveline handle this herself. She wanted no part of it. She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. 

Aveline turned back to the Arishok, finally looking ruffled, “That doesn’t excuse murder.”

“Is it true, Aveline? Did one of _your_ men rape their sister?” She wanted to hear the truth from Aveline’s lips, wanted her to confess to once again failing in her duty to protect this city.

As soon as Aveline avoided her gaze she knew the answer even without hearing the words. “There have been rumors. I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands.”

“Sometimes that is necessary.” She couldn’t agree with the Arishok more.

“Like you avenged the Viscount’s son? It was not right then and it’s not right now.” Aveline countered.

Oh, but Sekhmet thought it was. She’d waited for years for Aveline to catch the killer in Kirkwall. And had lost her own mother in the process. What if she had done more than give Aveline the information to catch the killer? She might have saved her mother if she’d caught the killer and done away with him herself.

And these elves had tried to do the right thing, had reported the guard. What happened? Nothing, no one helped them, the guard wasn’t punished. Aveline hadn’t even started to investigate his behavior yet, even knowing there were rumors besides the elves’ report. “I would have done the same thing in their shoes.”

Aveline whipped her head around to look at her, betrayal coloring her features. “Hawke, that’s not helping.”

Before she could respond the Arishok was speaking again. “Their actions are mere symptoms. Your society is the disease. They have chosen.” He Advanced on Aveline, towering over her. “The viddathari will submit to the qun and find a path your way has denied them.”

Aveline’s anger refused to allow her to be cowed by the Arishok. “You can’t just decide that. You must hand them over.”

Right, because ordering around the Qunari always went so well.

The Arishok looked almost surprised at Aveline’s vehemence and audacity for a moment. But only a moment, then he turned away, shoulders rigid. He breathed deeply before turning back, deceptively calm again. Sekhmet realized whatever was to come next had been a foregone conclusion once they walked through the gate. It had been decided before they ever arrived and had been the reason for the Arishok’s earlier certainty.

And whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it.

“Tell me Hawke, what would you do in my place?” The Arishok’s sonorous voice rolled over her again.

If the events were already chosen, nothing she said made a difference. And she was so irritated with Aveline she decided on being truthful, if a bit obnoxious about it. “Why give up perfectly good converts?”

The Arishok seemed almost pleased, “Exactly so.” And then his calm demeanor was shattered, “I cannot leave without the relic and I stay and remain blind to this dysfunction. There is only one solution.”

Aveline was suddenly pale, and placating. “Arishok, there is no need for…”

He held up a single finger silencing her. Honestly, his commanding presence was impressive. He turned away from them, dismissing them. Before giving an order to his men, never raising his voice. “Vinek kathas.”

As the Qunari took up their weapons, Aveline pulled hers, but for some asinine reason not her shield. Both of the guards who had accompanied them into the compound were quickly killed as they tried to retreat from the compound. By rights, both Aveline and Sekhmet should have died. 

The way the Qunari lined the walls they should have been as easy pickings as the two guards. So, why weren’t they? Even the one Qunari that had tried to grab her had been repelled easily enough. Why was their attempt to detain or kill her so lackluster?

Even so, she was furious. Sekhmet glared at the Arishok. After all she had done to try to be respectful of them, and the things she had done to try to help them, the bastard had the audacity to attack her. 

She felt Aveline tug on her arm. “Not now Hawke.”

With one last withering glance at the Arishok she moved out of the gate, only to find that the Qunari were already attacking the city. 

“Andraste’s tits.” Sekhmet cursed, “Why did you have me send the others away? Now we have to find them.”

“I didn’t know he was going to attack us.” Aveline shot back.

Sekhmet snorted with irritation, “Always assume we’re going to be attacked and prepare accordingly. I can’t believe you were a soldier and now a guard captain.”

“That’s not the world I live in, Hawke.”

“And look at all the people in your charge who have died, just today, because of it.” She sneered at the red headed Captain as she gestured to the bodies of fallen guards in the streets.

Anger and frustration showed on Aveline’s face before she spoke again. “We need to find help. Go find whoever you want; I’ll try to go organize the guards.”

“Good luck with that.” Sekhmet sneered turning away and headed for Darktown. Fuck, this day just kept getting worse. She’d almost think the nightmare of Carver’s death was a warning if she didn’t have it so damned often. 

Maybe she and Anders had just been too damned happy today. No, she wouldn’t think like that, wouldn’t be fatalistic. She and Anders deserved whatever happiness they could find together. She was so preoccupied by her thoughts she nearly ran right into him.

Anders slipped his hand into hers discretely and squeezed lightly, “Thank the Maker you’re all right. I was so worried. I thought maybe…” He looked away briefly then back, “I’m so thankful you’re here, safe.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, relieved and amused. Even in the midst of a life or death struggle he was still careful to avoid an overt show of affection in public. “What no kiss?” she teased, smiling.

Anders smiled back, just a slip of one. “Not really the time, but when it’s over and we’re safe I’ll kiss you until the only word you remember is my name.”

Sekhmet giggled, “I’ll hold you to that, mage.”

He smirked at her, “You have to save the city first, love.”

She sighed, exaggeratedly. “Very well.” She turned and headed towards the stairwell that would take them into Lowtown. They needed to get out of here quickly; Darktown was filling quickly with people trying to escape the Qunari attack.

On the way they ran into Fenris who hadn’t quite made it to the Hanged Man before the attack and figured that Sekhmet would get Anders from the clinic first. And near the top of the steps they found Varric waiting for them with a gleam in his eye and Bianca on his back. Beside him stood Merrill, her staff already glowing as she waited for them.

“Let’s clean house, Hawke.” Varric, who always love a good fight, couldn’t help the smile on his lips. 

Sekhmet nodded and they headed off into Lowtown.

********

Entering into the old city slums they ran into another group battling the Qunari, incredibly skilled fighters. Once the Qunari laid dead Sekhmet turned around to see who they had been fighting with. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest when she realized it was the Wardens.

The man that appeared to be leading them glanced up quickly as well, and then did a double take. His silverite armor with the blue enamel was polished so much it nearly blinded her when the firelight glinted off it. Sekhmet felt a knot form in her stomach and she shifted to stand in front of Anders. 

She’d already let Anders get hurt today and then watched him get hurt again when he had to heal Fenris. If the Grey Wardens were here for Anders, it would be over her dead body. She’d make them pay for every step in blood. No one was taking Anders from her.

Obviously, sensing her tension Anders placed his hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Relax, I’m pretty sure he’s not here for me.”

“Pretty sure?” Sekhmet hissed through gritted teeth, “Sorry, not good enough.” She kept her daggers drawn even after everyone else had sheathed theirs.

“Love look, Bethany’s with them.” He tried again to calm her.

The leader pulled his helmet off and pushed a few stray hairs off his forehead. His long reddish blonde hair formed a long braid down his back and the skin around his amber eyes crinkled as a smile touched his lips, a smile he was clearly fighting. The tattoo on his face was large and unusual but seemed to suit him. He was turned away from them and Sekhmet wondered what he was planning. Whatever it was he wasn’t getting anywhere near Anders.

********

The warmth and genuine joy Bethany saw in Alistair’s eyes was almost enough to melt the icy grip fear had wrapped around her at the sight of her sister. Was she surprised to see Sekhmet in the middle of this damned mess? Absolutely not, as a matter of fact she’d lay odds her sister had started it. 

She shoved down the fear and shoved it into a little box along with all the other inconvenient emotions she had locked away. There was no room for fear, or worry in a Warden’s life. There was work to be done, always work to be done.

The ball of jealousy turning laps in her her stomach was harder to wrangle. Her sister had all the luck, found her fortune, escaped from the Deep Roads unscathed and free, lived in the estate Bethany had so desperately hoped to live in. And now, now she had love as well. They were in the middle of fighting for their lives and their city and had Anders ever looked so damned happy? His eyes practically glowed as his hand rested affectionately and more than a little possessively on her sister’s shoulder.

Alistair’s voice interrupted her less than charitable thoughts. “You men go on ahead; Bethany and I will catch up shortly.”

The men hesitated a moment before slowly walking away, towards where Sekhmet and her friends had just come from. As they disappeared out of sight Alistair turned back to Anders. Bethany watched as he looked Anders over, making sure it was real.

She shook her head, unable to stop a small grin from coming through. Alistair was so bowled over by seeing Anders it was funny, “I told you she wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.”

Alistair’s mouth twitched into an almost smile again, “So you did.” He crossed to where the Sekhmet still stood in front of Anders with her blades drawn and a look like murder on her face. “Can I speak with the two of you?”

Sekhmet’s grip shifted on her daggers but she didn’t move away. Anders answered in her stead, “Of course.”

If Bethany didn’t know better she’d think her sister was afraid. But Sekhmet was never afraid, just one more of her _wonderful_ qualities. She closed her eyes for a moment and willed Carver’s voice to leave her. She always heard her bitter thoughts in his voice, especially when they were about Sekhmet. She finally understood where all her brother’s anger had come from. 

_“Put it in the box, Beth.”_ There was so much in that Maker forsaken box already. This was not where she wanted to be. This was not who she wanted to be with. And this was most definitely not the life she wanted. 

Sekhmet’s voice was quiet but held a vicious intensity, “Are you sure?”

Bethany opened her eyes to see Anders stroke her sister’s back lightly, “Yes.”

Sekhmet waited for another moment before she nodded and moved out of the way. Alistair beckoned them to round the corner with him, out of earshot and eyesight of the rest of Sekhmet’s companions as well as the Wardens who were already out of the alley. As soon as they rounded the corner Alistair grabbed Anders and hugged him.

Anders let out a choked squeak. “Alistair, you’re crushing me.” But he was smiling.

Alistair let go, “I forget about the armor sometimes, sorry. Maker, I am so glad to see you, we were told you were dead. Even when Bethany assured me you were alive I hadn’t dared to believe it.”

Bethany didn’t respond but rolled her eyes. Alistair could be a bit much at times, especially when it came to his family. Bethany took a few moments comparing the two brothers. They were so much alike, yet so totally different, both in personality and looks. It, kind of, fascinated Bethany.

Anders rubbed the back of his neck, looking abashed. “Sorry. I…had to leave.”

Alistair nodded, “I understand. I can’t wait to tell Sareyna, she’ll be so thrilled.” He was like a little kid with a secret. “She blamed herself for it.”

The mage was clearly confused. “Why?”

Her Commander shrugged, “You know how she is, she thinks none of it would have happened if we stayed. She would never have allowed the Chantry to send a Templar to watch you.”

Anders turned to her sister, “Told you, you reminded me of her.”

It was Sekhmet’s turn to roll her eyes.

Anders nodded and gestured to Alistair, “This is her husband, Alistair. Who also happens to be my half brother.”

Alistair scowled, “Brother.”

Oh yes, it had been a while before Bethany realized Anders had only been Alistair’s half brother. The way he talked about Anders and Morrigan both was so animated and excited. Maybe, if she hadn’t met any of her siblings until she was an adult she’d be as enamored of the whole idea as Alistair was.

Anders nodded in acquiescence. “Brother.”

********

Sekhmet took him in again paying closer attention this time. She could see it now, the shape of the eyes, the prominent nose and though Anders’ jaw was narrower they were still both square. Alistair obviously had a warrior’s build but he had a grace to his movements that reminded her of Anders. It would be easy to assume they were full blooded brothers. And if the painting of Cailan she had seen in the Emporium was anything to go on all three of them took after their father, King Maric.

She flashed Alistair a crooked smile remembering who he was, “So, you’re the Bastard Prince.”

Alistair chuckled, “Not _the_ Bastard Prince, _a_ Bastard Prince,” he turned to Anders, “right?”

Anders grimaced. He still hated any reminder of the prince part of his heritage. Not that it stopped her from teasing him from time to time. 

His smile disappearing, Alistair dropped his voice. “She’s going to want to know where you are, you know that, right?”

“And you can’t keep your mouth shut to save your life.” Anders responded.

Alistair shrugged, “Not with her.”

He let out a long sigh, “Fine.”

The warden pressed him, “Can she come see you?”

Anders bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head sadly, “Not yet.” He turned to her, “Would you mind if I had messages delivered to your place?”

Sekhmet glared at him a bit, her place? As if it hadn’t become his home to, as if they hadn’t been sharing a life there for the past year. “ _Our_ place, and no I don’t mind if they send messages to our place.” She wanted to ask why he wouldn’t allow Sareyna to visit, but now was clearly not the time or place.

Bethany suddenly spoke up, “He’s living with you now?”

She nodded, “I sent you a letter, I’m sorry if you didn’t receive it.” She knew Bethany would have received the letter; Anders had sent and received letters in return since then. So, apparently Bethany still wasn’t reading her letters and Anders hadn’t mentioned it. She wondered that her mother hadn’t at least mentioned it in one of her letters either, very strange.

“I wonder how mother would feel about that.” Her sister spoke a little sadly.

“She was happy for us, Anders moved in before…” She couldn’t say it, just the thought hurt too much. “And he really helped me a lot after, I wish I had been able to be there for you.” Maybe taking care of Bethany would have helped her, helped them both.

She searched for something, anything in her sister’s demeanor that might show some semblance that she didn’t blame Sekhmet for their mother’s death, but Beth’s face was stone, “The Wardens helped me hold a wake when we learned of it. I wasn’t alone.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” Sekhmet fell silent feeling at a loss, her sister seemed bitter but there was nothing she could do about it now. No more than she had ever been able to do anything about Carver’s bitterness.

Anders squeezed her shoulder lightly, “Why don’t you put away those daggers, love. Alistair’s not going to attack us.”

“Bethany might.” She joked as she slipped her blades onto her back hoping for at least a small smile from her sister.

Beth just glowered.

Anders turned to Alistair to see his bemused grin, “What?”

The Warden tilted his chin towards Sekhmet.

Anders chuckled almost nervously, “Right, sorry. This is Sekhmet.”

She slipped off her bloodied glove and extended a hand to Alistair, instead of shaking it though he turned it and kissed the back. “Very nice to meet you.” He released her hand with a smile and turned back to Anders. “So, are you living together, or _living_ together?”

Sekhmet smirked, “Oh no, Anders is my favorite sex toy.”

Alistair burst out laughing. “Sweet Maker, I bet you’re a handful.”

“You have no idea.” Anders said with a mischievous grin before he looked at Alistair thoughtfully. “Where is Sareyna? Why are you here with the Wardens?”

********

“Sareyna is…much like you right now.” He paused to see if Anders understood.

She was on the run, hiding, although, Anders wasn’t doing much of either lately. “Did they…” his voice trailed off, it was a stupid question. Someone must have found them; why else would they be apart?

Ali pressed his lips into a thin line. “They tried, first the Crows and then…” He gave a small shrug not wanting to say the Wardens, because he still respected them probably. “She lost it, took Trelain and left.” He turned to look behind him, making sure the other Wardens were still out of their line of sight and out of hearing range. He dropped his voice lower anyways, “She’s never far away.”

Anders nodded; he knew she would be close; the two of them couldn’t stand to be apart. “And…” He shut his mouth and closed his eyes, why was he even asking?

Alistair didn’t wait for him to continue, “He’s gone, left the first morning I was back on my feet. She hears from him every so often, seems he always knows where we are.” It was such a sad smile, “We both see him periodically, he finds us or at least one of us, stays for the night but is always gone by morning.”

Sekhmet was watching Anders carefully, “Is this someone I should know about?”

“We’ll talk later love, I promise.” Could he talk about Zevran with her? He supposed he would find out. He liked to think he could, that now that he’d found love he wasn’t so bitter about what had transpired between him and Zevran.

Ali sighed, suddenly looked tired. “I have to get back.” He hugged Anders again, “Stay safe.” He turned to Sekhmet, hesitated a second, then hugged her too. “Take good care of him please. He is very important to a lot of people.”

She nodded, “I will, as long as you promise to take care of her.”

His brother gave her a small smile, “I will, wouldn’t want to make you angry. I saw how ready you were to gut me when you thought I was a threat to Anders. At least I know he’s in good hands.”

Sekhmet laughed, “Yes, I am quite good with my hands.” She gave his brother a saucy smile. “And don’t worry if I wanted to get rid of you I wouldn’t gut you, too messy, I’d just slit your throat.”

Alistair chuckled and turned to Anders, “I like her, she…suits you.”

Anders smiled, unable to resist. That Alistair could see how good a pair they were after so short a time thrilled him. Ali knew quite a bit about love, the man was doubly blessed in that area of his life. “I know.”

His brother reached into his armor and pulled out a necklace with a small dagger charm hanging from it. He handed it to Sekhmet, “This belongs to the woman I love, but she seems to find things like this everywhere. I think she’d want you to have it.”

Sekhmet took the necklace and examined the small charm, there were hearts engraved on the blade. “Thank you.” 

Anders could feel the strength of the enchantments without even touching the small charm. They must be pretty powerful and he wondered just how much trouble Ali was going to be in for giving it away. He swallowed down a lump he felt in his throat over Alistair giving such a gift to Sekhmet _and_ over Sekhmet having something of ‘Reyna’s. Apparently, seeing his brother had made him a touch emotional.

Alistair nodded and started to turn away, Bethany on his heels.

“Can you give us a hand?” Sekhmet called out after them.

Ali shook his head sadly, “No, unfortunately we have more pressing matters at the moment.”

“More pressing than war?” Anders was surprised, and worried.

Alistair gave them an indulgent smile, “You wouldn’t think so, but sadly yes.”

“Is it bad?” Anders asked quietly, unable to hide his curiosity.

“Archie and friends.” He gave them a last smile and walked a few feet away and waited for Bethany.

Bethany looked at Sekhmet for a second, seemed about to speak but instead she only gave a brief nod before following Alistair.

********

“Archie?” Sekhmet turned to Anders.

Anders looked a bit pale.

“Anders, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing we can help with, come on, let’s get going. We shouldn’t be standing here while the whole city is being attacked.”

Still looking worried, Sekhmet turned and headed back towards her companions. They ran into several more bands of Qunari as they made their way through Lowtown and found that many of the elves were helping the Qunari as well. Sekhmet hated to think what might happen to relations between humans and elves once the Qunari were routed. And the Qunari would lose this fight. Kirkwall had become her city for better or for worse and she wasn’t about to let the whole city be forcibly converted. 

They made their way up the long stairway to Hightown. Anders at one side, Fenris on the other with Varric and Merrill trailing behind. As they neared the crest of the steps Anders let a brief spell wash over them all. Fenris stiffened but didn’t speak or slow, just kept marching up the steps.

Behind her Varric audibly sighed, “Thanks, Blondie.”

A sentiment she could get behind. The little rejuvenation spell had been much appreciated. They’d been fighting for a long time already, with no end in sight.

At the top of the steps they saw two Qunari dragging a woman across the market. If they attacked them from here they might hurt the woman, so Sekhmet wove around the columns, looking for an opening. One ended up finding her.

One of the Qunari spotted her and stopped, calling out to his compatriot, “Teth a, bas!”

The other Qunari stopped to look at them as well; from his armor she figured he was either Sten or Karasten. She almost groaned, she’d dealt with the Qunari so much she was learning their titles, or at least a watered down version of them.

He released the captive he was dragging to address them. “Then the Arishok failed to take you captive, unfortunate.”

Unfortunate? Either the Arishok hadn’t really wanted to capture her or his men had been incompetent. She was glad to see the captive quickly stand and run away. And her escape was made just in time. The Qunari attacked Sekhmet and the others immediately.

Other Qunari joined the fight quickly. When a Saarebas showed up Anders attacked it viciously, taking it out before it was even able to launch an attack. Too bad none of them saw the second one.

They were all knocked clear off their feet by its first assault. The damned mage was incredibly powerful, and its magic was like a sledgehammer. But it was raw, like all Saarebas magic was.

Still, it knocked her back and she smacked her head pretty hard on the stone of the square. Her vision blurred and she struggled to get feeling back in her limbs so she could move. Someone had to move, had to stop the Saarebas who was advancing on them even now. But her muscles wouldn’t obey her.

She floundered helplessly, her head lolling to the side she saw her companions were all in a similar state. The Saarebas stalked closer and closer. _“Move, move, move”_ she admonished her body. The Saarebas was practically on top of them when she felt Anders’ fingers reaching out to touch hers. 

He slipped his hand into hers. He squeezed it gently and then magic was flowing into her, even as the Saarebas was gathering its magic. Her mind was starting to clear, the numbness leaving her limbs.

And then Anders groaned his fingers nearly crushing hers as both his and the Saarebas’ magic disappeared. She glanced at Anders, saw other than his ragged breathing he seemed to be fine, his grip on her hand loosening and then he quickly snatched his hand away from her as if her touch had burned him.

The sound of the Saarebas crying out in pain stole her attention. A blade was protruding from his chest. It slid free and the Saarebas crumpled to the ground with a last groan.

As it fell it left behind the vision of a woman standing over Sekhmet in gleaming armor. Armor she would recognize anywhere. Even if she had never met the woman wearing it, she would know her name anywhere. A name whispered by the mages of the Underground with awe and fear.

Knight Commander Meredith.

She reached out and helped Sekhmet to her feet even as she introduced herself. The Knight Commander was looking her over carefully. And Sekhmet was doing the same. So, this was the woman behind the terror of the Gallows. The woman who allowed Templars like Kerras and Alrik to stalk and torture the mages in their care.

So wrapped up in sizing up Meredith before her, she barely caught Anders’ rushed whisper to Varric as he helped him to his feet. “Stay away from Merrill.”

She stopped herself from turning to look at Merrill, to see what was wrong with her. The woman standing before her was even more her enemy than the Qunari who were still attacking the city. And from the keen look in her eyes, it would not do for one to underestimate the Knight Commander.

Meredith’s gaze took in her companions briefly before narrowing on Sekhmet again. “I know you. The name Hawke has turned up in my reports many times, too many.”

She couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at that. It pleased her to no end that she was a thorn in Meredith’s side.

The Knight Commander looked over the square taking in the fallen bodies. “But that doesn’t matter now.” Across the square they could just make out a Qunari directing a few captured humans. “The Qunari are taking people to the Keep and may already be in control. We will need to deal with them.”

Something about Meredith’s odd calm was bothering Sekhmet but she wasn’t sure what it was, not yet at least. “Why would they be gathering hostages?” She’d been under the impression the Qunari were just planning on razing the town to the ground the Arishok seemed so disgusted with them all.

It’s was Fenris’ baritone that answered her, “They’re going to take everyone of import and put them in the same place. Those that agree to convert live, those that don’t…” he left it unsaid, but they all knew what he meant.

“Charming,” the Knight Captain spoke with little emotion.

And it grated on Sekhmet terribly. Something wasn’t right here, something…this whole night had been wrong so why should this surprise her? “I suppose this is where you impose upon me to help the city?”

Meredith’s gaze on her narrowed again. What was the Knight Captain looking for exactly that she kept examining Sekhmet so closely? “Your skills _are_ sorely needed.” Another brief pause before she started to turn away from Sekhmet, still talking. “Head to the Keep and I will see if I can find more of my men. These creatures will pay for this outrage.” And she just kept strolling away from them.

For someone so worried about her city she seemed in no great hurry to save it. Sekhmet sent Varric and Fenris to check out the corpses littering the square for anything they might need, potions, poultices and things of that nature. Anders moved from corpse to corpse checking for any signs of life until Meredith was out of sight. He hurried over to Merrill, and checked her over. 

Sekhmet crouched by his side, “Is she alright?”

He nodded, “The Knight Commander is just a bit ham fisted with her smite. Most Templars just smite one target; she swept hers over the whole square. Merrill just needs rest and some lyrium. I’ll carry her for now; I won’t be good for much else for a while. We should take her to the estate; she should be safe there with all the wards.”

“Anders, if she’s unconscious, how are you still up and about?” She’d seen mages get smited in the past, even a small smite could send most mages flat on their backs.

He gave her a wan smile, “Did I ever mention my brother was a Templar once upon a time?”

“Oh, he???” She couldn’t imagine the man she had met today actually smiting Anders. He so clearly adored him. And there was no animosity from Anders’ side either and if he’d been smited surely he would have resented him.

Anders shook his head, “I can see that mind of yours working.” He slipped his arms under Merrill and picked her up. “I asked him to help me. I wanted to learn to withstand it. I still lose my magic, but thanks to him and the other Wardens, at least I’m not helpless.”

She nodded as the others joined them. “Yeah, we’ve all seen you fight without magic, pretty impressive.”

“Not nearly as impressive if you don’t know I’m a mage.” He started moving, “Come on, I want to get her safe.”

“What are you two talking about?” Varric asked as he handed her a few potions to put into her own belt.

“That smite that saved our asses, it also took Anders’ magic. So, we all need to be extra careful.” She looked to Fenris, “And we need to be protecting him until we can get Merrill to the estate.”

Fenris nodded in understanding. No arguments, that was good. Still, she’d keep a close eye on Anders. She worried that Fenris might see this as an opportunity to get rid of two mages.

In the Dwarven Merchant’s Guild they found Qunari fighting Carta dwarves. They helped the dwarves clear out the guild and then found themselves the target of the Carta attacks. Apparently, within the Carta the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy. 

Anders stood back, close to Varric while they dealt with the dwarves. She thought he’d be worried, but he looked completely calm. When he fell into step with her again he shook his head, “I forgot how much I like to watch you fight.”

She looked at him surprised, “Are you flirting with me, right now?”

He shrugged, “Perhaps a little. It is kind of beautiful watching you though. It’s like watching dancing.”

A sharp pang ripped through her, _“a dance of death and dismemberment”_ that’s what she’d thought about fighting at Carver’s side. She took a deep breath and willed the thought away. She had more pressing things to attend to right now.

“Sekhmet?” Anders looked worried.

“It’s alright, just a bad memory. Let’s get her home, shall we?” 

“Sorry,” he murmured, still moving, chewing his bottom lip as he thought over something. Finally, he spoke up. “Should we get Sebastian before we head to the Keep?”

She shook her head, “No, he’s at the Chantry. He’ll do the most good there. I’m guessing the Grand Cleric needs him right now.” She had hoped they would make it to the estate without running into anyone else, but there was a fairly large number of Qunari waiting in the plaza outside the estate’s entrance. “Dammit,” she muttered.

Anders disappeared, hopefully to take Merrill to the estate. The others fought with her and before the fight was over, Anders was back at her side. He’d grabbed a different staff, this one had a large blade at one end and he wielded it spectacularly.

“How are they?” She asked as the last of the Qunari fell.

“Fine, Tyr’s guarding the door. The wards are all up and Sandal has a pile of enchantments ready to use if necessary, nothing to worry about.” He assured her. “Sekhmet, look,” He pointed to an older elf slowly stirring on the ground. 

The elf was wearing mage robes and moved in obvious pain. Sekhmet spun, looking around the plaza. “Oh, Anders!” The words slipped from her in barely a whisper.

“Maker’s mercy, there’s so many of them.” The forlorn tone of Anders’ voice matched her own. He took off, running to check on each of them, each of the broken, lifeless bodies of mages. His shoulders sagged further and further as he realized each one was dead.

Varric and Fenris went to help Anders check for signs of life while she moved to the elf’s side. She helped him sit up and tipped a potion up to his lips. He drank it down, and sagged tiredly in her grip for a moment.

As the potion worked he sat up on his own and sighed, “I’m not the man I once was, it seems. Thank you.”

The others returned and she looked up, searching for any scrap of hope. Anders slowly shook his head sadness enveloping him, making him looking older and very tired. She stood and helped the sole surviving mage in the plaza to his feet.

“You may not be as young as you once were, but whatever skills you have it was enough to let you live. The others were not so fortunate.” She sighed.

“The others?” The mage turned to survey the plaza. An edge of panic filled his voice, “Surely they cannot all be…” His eyes widened as he saw the bodies. He ran to the nearest one, collapsing to his knees beside it. “Gone,” the pain in his voice stangled it out to a mere whisper. “I told them to run.”

Sekhmet moved to try to comfort him when a now familiar voice rang out across the plaza.

“First Enchanter Orsino,” the Knight Commander’s voice dripped with ice. “You survive,” she sounded more than a little surprised.

The elven mage stood and faced her, his features, a moment ago showing a huge depth of pain were now stilled in a mask of calm as he answered her with a voice as icy as hers, “Your relief overwhelms me, Knight Commander.”

The two glared at each other for long moments giving Sekhmet a chance to look around. The Knight Commander had returned but had brought precious few Templars with her. Sekhmet and her companions had seen more on their trip just from Lowtown. Where had the Knight Commander gone that she had to be away for so long and returned with such little help?

Fingers of dread snaked into Sekhmet’s belly. The puzzle pieces were starting to fall together for her. She just really hoped she was wrong. Could the Knight Commander really be that cold, that calculating? Could she really hate her charges that much? Or was it just a lust for power?


	52. Too Heavy A Price To Pay

Meredith was the first to speak as they all stood there staring at each other in that plaza. “There is no time for talk. We must strike back before it’s too late.”

But for those poor mages it was already too late. And Sekhmet was pretty sure that if the Qunari had taken over the Keep, Viscount Dumar had gone to join his son. She scanned her memory for all the city guard they had seen lying dead in the streets as they made their way to the Keep. How many, half? Sekhmet was pretty sure it was much more than half.

“And who will lead us into this battle?” Orsino sneered at the Knight Commander, “You?”

“I will fight to defend this city as I have always done.” Each word sounded like a threat to Sekhmet, clipped and angry.

“To control it you mean.” Seemed the First Enchanter was seeing things the same way Sekhmet was. Of course, he knew the Knight Commander much better than she did, didn’t he? His anger and grief was getting the better of him as they stood there. “I won’t have our lives tossed to the flames to feed your vanity.”

No, she didn’t trust Knight Commander Meredith as far as she could throw her in her heavy armor. And Orsino’s thinking wasn’t clear; he was suffering from too much sudden loss. So, she couldn’t trust him to act in the city’s best interests either. Once again, things were going to fall to her.

She looked to Anders and he nodded slightly, as both Fenris and Varric placed flasks of lyrium in his hands. A brief worry touched her, Anders didn’t like lyrium. And they were handing him an awful lot of lyrium. Surely, he wouldn’t overdose himself trying to get his magic back, would he? He was a superb fighter, even without the magic.

He gave her a pointed look, telling her without words to stop worrying about him and deal with the situation at hand. Fine, she’d trust him not to make himself sick, for now. She looked between Orsino and Meredith again before speaking. “I won’t have you two at each other’s throats. I’m in charge.”

The Knight Commander’s lip curled in disgust. “You? You’re not even of this city.”

She was surprised by how quickly Orsino defended her. Apparently, he didn’t want to lead, he just didn’t want Meredith leading. “Neither am I. Yet, I don’t hear you complaining about either of us fighting to defend our home.”

Meredith tried to stare Orsino down but he didn’t budge. And when she turned her gaze on Sekhmet, she too held the Knight Commander’s angry gaze. Finally, she relented, “Very well then, but whatever you plan be quick about it.”

Orsino visably relaxed as he turned to look at her, “Tell us then, what is our course of action?”

Run in there, slaughter everything in sight and leave the Arishok in a pile of his own intestines to die a slow painful death? No, that was just a little wishful thinking. The last thing she wanted to do was put more innocent civilians in jeopardy or First Enchanter Orsino for that matter. “Let’s find out what the Qunari are planning, but not risk our necks in the process.”

Meredith was apparently willing to play along for now. She nodded her head slightly, “An excellent choice, let’s move quickly.” She turned and headed up the steps to the Viscount’s Keep and the rest of them followed.

As Anders fell into step beside her she nearly reeled from the smell of lyrium on him. “Anders, don’t you dare make yourself sick.”

He brushed his fingers lightly against hers for the briefest second. “Don’t worry about me, love.” He whispered so quietly she had to strain to hear him. 

How could she possibly not? He was standing there guzzling lyrium not ten paces from the Knight Commander of Kirkwall and several Templars. And she was only too aware that the Templars knew his name and his face. 

She wondered briefly where Cullen was. Was he currently rallying more Templar troops maybe? Or defending the Gallows themselves? It seemed weird he wasn’t there.

As they headed up the last of the stairs before the courtyard of the Keep they peered around the wall of the narrowed entrance to the courtyard and saw at least twenty Qunari standing guard on the steps in front of the doors to the Keep. She almost wished that Merrill was with them. The elf always managed to find different ways into places. She’d been in the Viscount’s garden often, she must know of another entrance to the Keep.

Orsino settled back into the niche behind the entrance way, “There seem to be a great many Qunari at the Keep’s entrance.”

“Then they’ve already taken it over.” Meredith didn’t exactly sound upset about the prospect. “Clearly, they’ve been planning this for some time.”

So had Meredith, was Sekhmet’s bet.

Meredith continued, “This is the only way in, we must assault them now, before their numbers grow.”

A direct assault would end up in more casualties, as Meredith well knew. Perhaps it was part of her plan. She had seemed rather upset that Orsino had survived while she was gone. Was this her chance to get rid of him too?

Orsino was looking at the Knight Commander like she had lost her mind. “Are you mad? They have hostages, we need a distraction.”

Meredith was completely unperturbed by his outburst. “Decide quickly, we have no time.”

Sekhmet thought Orsino’s plan had a better chance of guaranteeing his survival. “Let’s hear what you have in mind, Orsino.”

The First Enchanter seemed pleased that she wanted to hear what he had to say. “We’ll need to get you inside and catch up as soon as we can.”

“And just how will we do this?” Meredith made it sound as if what Orsino was proposing was preposterous.

“Have confidence Knight Commander.” The elf walked out of the niche and strolled into the courtyard looking as if he had no worries in the world. He stalked forward with his fascinating looking staff in hand. One man against twenty Qunari and not an ounce of nervousness to be seen. Sekhmet would be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed. The First Enchanter was a very impressive man. He jogged forward a few steps and called out to the Qunari, “You will not conquer this city without a fight.”

Behind the wall they could hear the Arvaraad yell out, “Saarebas, Vinek Kathas.”

Huge flames lit up Orsino’s hands and danced prettily up his arms. Sekhmet could feel his magic even from here and it was potent stuff. Orsino would give Anders a run for his money, which was saying something. She was glad Orsino was on their side. And she wasn’t about to lose him to Meredith’s twisted ambitions.

She stepped close to Meredith and spoke quietly. “You better hope he lives Knight Commander. Otherwise, you’ll do more than read my name in your reports. Then again, you might not ever do anything again.”

Meredith looked mildly surprised and more than a little annoyed. Sekhmet honestly didn’t care; she wasn’t just going to let Meredith run unchecked. She knew the Knight Commander now, had looked into her eyes and taken her measure. She was not a good woman, and she was not just doing her job. 

Sekhmet had seen that power hungry look numerous times before, usually right before she had to end someone’s life. And she saw something else as well; there was the smallest spark of madness in the Knight Commander. As they say, it takes one to know one. 

She refocused her attention back on Orsino who was just launching a huge fireball at the Qunari on the stoop. It corkscrewed through the air, something Sekhmet had never seen, covering far more area than had it flown straight. He took out several of their number to the great surprise of the Qunari. 

Sekhmet, Anders, Varric and Fenris snuck through the entranceway while the Qunari were distacted, slipping unseen into the shadows. Orsino cast a glance in their direction, nodding that he was ready. He launched another fireball and started slowly backing up, drawing the remaining Qunari down the steps to chase after him.

As soon as they were past, Sekhmet and the others sped up the stairs. She hoped the Knight Commander took her seriously and protected Orsino. In the meantime, she needed to find the Arishok and put an end to this mess.

The inside of the Keep looked like a charnal house. Not that she was surprised the Arishok had left a trail of death in his wake. It would be an easy matter to find him at least.

She caught Anders out of the corner of her eye. He’d spotted a dead Templar and quickly moved to relieve him of his lyrium. She turned to tell him to stop, that it wasn’t worth it to do this to himself.

Fenris caught her elbow and stopped her. “Leave it alone Hawke. To face the Arishok we’re probably going to need him.”

“Even if he gets his magic back he’ll be useless if he can’t stand up.” She hissed back. Fenris would be happy if Anders overdosed and killed himself on the lyrium. Would probably gloat over it.

“He’s right.” This from Anders, “If we have to fight the Arishok, and let’s face it, we will. We’re going to need a healer.” Even as he said it though he wobbled, Varric reached out to steady him.

“Anders, please. Don’t do this to yourself.” She begged.

He caressed her face, brazenly showing an affection he hadn’t dared until now. “I won’t leave you alone. I promise.”

His gentle words hit her like a blow. Is that what he thought she was worried about? Couldn’t he see himself? He was covered in sweat, a fine tremor in his hands, his eyes were glazed as if he was intoxicated and he could barely stand up.

She took his hand, “I’m not worried about that. You’ve made yourself sick. Promise me, no more.”

“Sekhmet…” He was using that soothing voice on her again, as if she were some child having a temper tantrum.

“No, dammit Anders if you don’t promise me that you’ll stop now I’ll turn around and leave. These people can fend for themselves. What the fuck have they _ever_ done for you that you’d kill yourself on the off chance saving them _might_ require a healer?” Her voice echoed off the walls and she heard movement from the floor above. Someone had heard her.

“Showtime,” Varric tried to diffuse things and get them moving again.

She refused to budge, crossed her arms and stared at Anders. He stared back, eyes a little clearer than before. He was angry, and that was just fine with her.

Fenris moved around them and started dispatching Qunari warriors that were making their way down the stairs. Varric yelled out for Fenris to stop and ran forward to disarm a trap Fenris had nearly walked right into. She lost track of them after that.

“They’re going to get themselves killed.” Anders finally broke his silence.

“Apparently, killing ourselves is what we do in this little band.” She responded bitterly.

“Little help here guys?” Varric called back to them, the sound of his crossbow firing echoing through the room along with the sounds of fighting and dying.

“Dammit Hawke, they need help.” Anders growled.

She glared at him, anger and frustration warring inside her. He’d only pulled the Hawke thing on her a few times since he’d moved in. Always when he was distancing himself and trying to make it out like she was being irrational. And the way he said it, so condescending like she was a confused child. “Then go fucking help them. I’m leaving.” 

She turned and headed for the doors. She wasn’t going to watch him poison himself and she wasn’t going to let him make her feel like shit for wanting him to stop. She had enough of this damned city and all the fucked up people living in it for a lifetime. 

Anders grabbed her arm and yanked her back, “I don’t know whether to kiss you or slap you right now.”

She was so angry not even his teasing soothed her. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but even though he was usually loathe to show it, he was stronger than she was by far and had no problem holding her. “Let me go.” She hissed.

“Stop fighting me.” He held her tight against him. “Listen, I won’t drink anymore lyrium.” That damned voice, the one he used on his hysterical patients. Did he think she didn’t notice? “Now, can we go help those two?” 

“No.” She kept up her struggles to get free; even if they were pointless it felt better than staying still and accepting his treatment. He thought she was being hysterical, that was fine. She could be hysterical.

He sighed heavily. “Fine, love, you win. I _promise_ not to drink anymore lyrium.”

She stilled and he released her. “In that case, let’s go give them a hand.” She turned and ran up the stairs oddly elated that she had won their little battle of wills. And even had the good sense to feel guilty that she had put Varric and Fenris in danger.

When the fight was over Fenris leaned back against the wall he was next to, panting. “Temper tantrum all over with now?”

“Bite my ass, Fenris.” She snarled at him, in no mood for his shit right now.

“Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll do more than bite you.” He said with just the slightest trace of humor.

“Not bloody likely,” this time it was Anders that snarled at Fenris.

“Yes, yes, let’s not threaten to play with the possessive mage’s toys, shall we?” Varric rolled his eyes as he shifted Bianca to his back.

“Did you just call me Anders’ toy?” She was irritated for all of two seconds until Varric grinned at her. The image of Anders as a giant from fairy tales, hunting down and killing anyone who dared touch something of his sent her giggling. Maybe the stress of the day was getting to her. Andraste’s ass, he was a possessive bastard.

She held her arms out like an ape and scowled exaggeratedly at the guys. “She mine. You no touch, no look!” She stalked forward, using as deep and growly a voice as she could muster. “Grr, argh, she Anders', no yours! Rawrrr!”

Varric laughed so hard she thought he was going to piss himself. Even Fenris was chuckling as he stood up and straightened his armor. But poor Anders, he did not look pleased at all.

He sniffed the slightest bit in disdain, “Yes well, I am _ever_ so glad that Anders the idiot barbarian can entertain you all. Now, do you think we can go save the poor people of Kirkwall?”

It took her a moment to stop giggling. Several deep breaths, as well as looking at the wall instead of Varric or Fenris helped. At last she looked back to Anders, “Are you going to be okay? Your eyes are really glassy.” He was sweating even worse than before.

“Would you believe if I told you I was fine?” His speech seemed slower to her.

“I don’t know. What about your magic, anything?” It was better to know now one way or the other.

“Yes, it’s weak but ish there.” Now he was slurring his words? He moved towards the door and stumbled again, reeling sideways until he leaned against the wall.

“Whoa Blondie, that’s not good.” All mirth was suddenly gone from Varric’s face.

Fenris moved closer scowling. “What is wrong? I have seen mages drink twice as much lyrium.”

“Perhaps in the Imperium, but Anders almost never uses lyrium. And, if you remember correctly this is his _second_ big dose of lyrium tonight.” She started at the elf pointedly. 

He flushed and turned away. “I had not considered that.”

Anders turned and leaned more heavily against the wall. “Neither had I, shhhit.” He started sliding slowly down the wall.

Sekhmet had an idea, a stupid idea, but it was something at least. “Let Justice through, he’s not built like you right? Maybe he can help…I don’t know absorb the lyrium or something.”

“You want him to summon that…that abomination when he’s like this?” She was grateful Fenris had stopped himself from calling Justice a demon.

Varric shrugged, “I don’t know Hawke. The last time I saw Justice he was not too happy to see you.”

Anders, sitting on the floor, legs out in front of him and back against the wall gave Varric a very sick looking grin, “A lahht has changed sssince you lasht ssshaw Justisss.”

“Like what?”

“He looked pretty happy to see her earlier.” Fenris chimed in.

“Will it work?” She asked Anders.

“Dunno, come ‘ere.” He waived her closer as his eyes started to drift shut.  
She knelt next to him, “What do you need from me?” She squeaked with surprise when he pried his eyes opened and half dragged her across his lap.

He shivered a little, “Juss touch me, he’ll come ifff I lehht him and yer touchin mee…” his voice trailed off as he tugged on her glove. “Hasssh to be ssskin.”

She took it off and his too, intertwining their fingers. “Okay, we’re touching.”

Before she’d finished though Justice was looking at her, the smell of raspberries swirling around them briefly again. “Hawke, you are sitting on Anders’ lap.”

She moved to get up but he held her there. She stilled, “Anders is sick, can you help him?”

“Holy shit,” a shocked murmur from Varric.

“You know I cannot heal.” His head suddenly jerked aside. He closed his eyes, “This is lyrium poisoning.” His eyes slid open. “Anders does not like lyrium.” His lips were parted and his breathing was too fast. 

She tried not to think about what had happened between Anders and Fenris earlier, and how Anders had reacted to the lyrium. But he’d said it was Justice that reacted that way and it worried her for a moment. She needed to get Justice to help Anders and to release control back to Anders. 

If Justice were to walk into the next room the people of Kirkwall would hunt Anders down and kill him, whether he helped to save them or not. People, as a whole, were not alright with abominations. And that would be how they saw Justice.

She squeezed his hand and his eyes slid to where their fingers were entwined. “He was trying to help me. It was foolish, I know. Can you help him, please?”

His eyes widened, “Oh, you need his help in the next room. It is too dangerous for me to come with you.” A vague semblance of a grimace touched his face, “His thoughts are messy. It is like when he is intoxicated. Yes, I believe I can help him now like I do when he has been imbibing.” 

He canted his head and looked at Fenris. “Anders says the lyrium coated elf needs to move away.”

Varric snorted in amusement. “Lyrium coated elf? I’ll have to remember that one.”

Fenris moved back out of the room and down the corridor. “Is this alright?” he called.

“It is sufficient.” Magic hummed inside Justice, while his thumb stroked lightly over the back of Sekhmet’s hand. Another habit he obviously picked up from Anders. “I like your weight on Anders’ lap.” 

Varric snickered, “I bet you do.”

Sekhmet scowled at Varric, “Stop it.”

“Did I say something amusing?” Justice looked to Varric.

“No,” she soothed, “Varric is just a horny, old man.”

“Horny?” Justice queried, she could almost see him thinking, searching Anders’ mind for what she meant. She saw his eyes widen when he found what he was looking for, and then he practically shoved her off his lap a moment later.

She went to ask him what was wrong but Justice was gone. “What happened, are you alright Anders?”

He nodded and stood up. “I’m fine. Justice, I’m afraid, is not quite as well.”

She moved close, “What happened?”

“Not now, love.” But he flashed a glare at Varric. He put his arm around her and maneuvered her to stand beside him. “We have to go now; we’ve waited far too long.” He pushed open the door and the four of them walked in.

********

As soon as the door opened Anders saw the Viscount’s severed head on the floor. They were too late to save him then. That didn’t bode well.

The nobles of Kirkwall stood about in frightened little clusters. All with the same terrified looks on their faces. The nobility of Kirkwall, Anders was glad that Hawke had not started mingling with them when she moved back into her estate. They were a dull witted and mean spirited lot for the most part, dressing alike, talking alike, until they all started kind of looking a like.

The Arishok’s voice rang above the din as the four of them came closer. “But we have guests.” He started a slow decent down the stairs from the Viscount’s throne. “Shanedan, Hawke.”

Sekhmet stiffened briefly beside him and stilled. Anders stopped beside her as did the others. They watched and waited to see what was to come next. With this many civilians in the room, this could get messy indeed.

“I expected you. Maraas toh ebra-shok. You alone are basalit-an.” The Arishok continued, finally coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Impressive,” Fenris said softly beside Anders.

Sekhmet moved forward, closer to the Arishok. It was all Anders could do to stop himself from reaching out for her. She had to do this, and he was just going to have to let her. Even still, he pulled on his magic, happy to find it there and waiting for him and grateful Justice had helped clear his mind.

The Arishok looked over the room, his glare sending the terrified nobles scurrying back even further. “This is what respect looks like, bas. Some of you will never earn it.” He turned his attention back to Sekhmet, who stood only a few feet in front of him, dwarfed by the enormous man.

“So tell me Hawke, you know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?” His sonorous voice had quieted into a more intimate discussion.

They were interrupted by the sounds of combat behind them. Anders turned in time to see a Qunari warrior falling to the floor. And then Isabela strolled in carrying an enormous book. Anders wanted to yell for her to run. If the Arishok didn’t kill her, Sekhmet likely would.

“I believe,” incredibly, the pirate queen used the Qunari warrior she had knocked down as a step, walking right over him as if he were part of the floor, “I can answer that.” She came forward, standing between him and Sekhmet, flashing Sekhmet a smirk. The book she handed to the Arishok. “I’m sure you’ll find it _mostly_ undamaged.” The woman had nerve; Anders had to give her that.

The Arishok took it, looking over it and speaking reverently, “The Tome of Koslun.”

Izzy turned back to Sekhmet, “Oh, look who’s here. Trying to save the world again?” Sarcastic as always, “Don’t worry; I’ve got it covered this time.” She looked to the Arishok, “You want your tome back? You can have it.”

Sekhmet shook her head and smirked back at Isabela. Maybe Anders had been wrong, maybe she wasn’t going to kill Isabela. “Heroic acts of sacrifice? What will people say?” His little lioness looked quite pleased with herself.

“This is your damned influence, Hawke.” Izzy looked down shaking her head in frustration. “I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn ‘round. It’s pathetic.”

The Arishok, apparently content that this was in fact the right book and that it was mostly undamaged handed it to another of his men, who backed away with a bow. The Arishok looked to Sekhmet again. “The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen, _with_ the thief.”

“What?” Isabela’s eyes nearly popped out of her head she looked so surprised.

And Fenris’ spoke up behind her, voice bitter and angry again. “You thought you could strand them here for four years without consequence?”

Anders wondered for a second time what exactly Fenris’ stake in the whole thing with Isabela was. If it was just a little casual sex as Isabela claimed then what had caused the elf’s sudden ire towards her? Or was he that angry over her having stolen something as precious as the Tome of Koslun from the Qunari? Anders knew Fenris had an odd sort of respect for them.

The Arishok held Sekhmet’s steady gaze, “She stole the tome of Koslun. She must return with us.”

Sekhmet didn’t bat an eye. “You have your relic, she stays with us.”

“I’m sure he’ll take that well.” Varric stepped backwards calling out, “Rivani, you might want to move a bit this way.”

The Arishok didn’t look surprised. In fact, Anders thought he looked pleased. “Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you Hawke, you and I will battle to the death with her as the prize.”

Isabela sounded panicked, “No, if you’re going to duel anyone, duel me.”

The Arishok barely looked at Isabela. “You are not basalit-an, you are unworthy.”

_“Please, don’t do this. Please, just once don’t sacrifice yourself.”_ Even had he spoken the words aloud she wouldn’t have listened. 

Sekhmet nodded, “Alright, let’s dance.”

The Arishok hefted his axe, “Meravas, so shall it be!”

The Arishok was surprisingly fast for his size, but Sekhmet was still faster. She’d take a few swipes at him then disappear out of his reach again. He caught on to her rhythms quickly though and he eventually landed a few blows.

With so little contact between them the fight dragged on and on. The blows they did land were mostly superficial, nothing that would decide a battle. It was like watching death by a thousand cuts.

They were both tiring when the Arishok made a wild stab at her, a wild stab that landed lucky. He pierced right through her abdomen on the right side. His grin turned to one of triumph as he lifted his blade picking Sekhmet’s small form right off her feet.

Anders didn’t even realize he had been moving forward until Fenris grabbed him roughly. “Interefer and they _will_ kill her.”

_“He’s_ killing her.” He had to get to her, had to save her.

She cried out as her weight slid her further down the blade. But as the Arishok turned to show his skewered prize she brought her dagger down hard between his neck and his shoulder. Arm rendered useless by the blow, his sword, still pierced through her middle, fell to the floor.

The Arishok bellowed, stumbling away from her in surprise. Sekhmet, his wild and amazing little lioness, pushed herself to her feet to the collective gasp of the room. Then she stared that horned behemoth down, pulled his sword from her side and tossed it away. 

She stalked towards the Arishok, blood flowing a little too fast for Anders' liking from her wound. The Arishok hefted his axe again and waited for her to reach him. They exchanged a few more blows, Sekhmet still dancing with a grace Anders had no idea was humanly possible with her injuries. While little by little the Arishok slowed, dozens of cuts taking their toll.

Anders was a mass of knots, his magic all but sizzling under his skin with his anxiousness. She was hurt and he had to just stand back and watch instead of going to her, instead of healing her. He was going to lock her up safe and sound in her estate for a week after this. Long enough to calm his nerves, and to reassure himself she was real and alive. She might, if he was really charming and clever, put up with it for a week before she had a fit and left.

Varric came and patted him on the back. “You might want to do a better job of keeping your magic under wraps, Blondie. Those sparks are starting to draw attention away from the main event.”

Anders looked down to see Varric was right, his fingertips were actually sparking. He tucked his hands under his arms to try to hide them. He was going to get himself killed at this rate.

Varric scowled at him, “You have to calm down. The ends of your hair are sparking too.”

“What?” His hair didn’t spark, it never had. It was only his hands he’d ever had to watch out for.

“Andraste’s ass, what is she doing?” All of Varric’s attention was back on the fight.

Anders turned his attention back to the fight as well, just in time to see Sekhmet launch herself at the Arishok. She jumped, foot planting on his thigh as she gripped his pauldron with one hand and plunged her dagger into his chest with the other. She fell, barely managing to land on her feet as the Arishok reeled backwards.

His hand clutched at the dagger in his chest wrenching it free. He looked at it incredulously for a moment before it fell with a clatter from his hands and he fell to the ground. He struggled to look at Sekhmet as he spoke. “One day we shall return.” He grit out, pain making his voice even more gravelly before he collapsed.

Sekhmet staggered as the Arishok finally perished. She turned, half dazed, looking towards Anders who was already shoving people out of the way in his rush to get to her. She wobbled as he reached her and he gently took her arm to steady her. 

She sagged aagainst him. “Anders”, the word a sigh of relief on her lips.

“I’m here. Let’s…”

The door banged open and the Knight Commander came charging in with the First Enchanter fast on her heels. She pulled up short inside the doors and scanned the room. “Is it over?”

“It’s over.” Anders murmured quietly. He curbed the urge to tell her the city didn’t need her.

Meredith’s stony gaze bored into Anders. Oh yes, she knew what he was and she clearly hated him for it. But, in this room where he was so clearly helping the woman who had saved the city there was nothing she could do. The people would riot if the Knight Commander tried to lay a hand on him now.

Eventually, her gaze slide to Sekhmet, and if that look was any indication, she didn’t care for her anymore than she did for Anders. And was just as stuck. Sekhmet was more than a pain in the side now. She was more than a name in countless reports. 

Now she was a hero, someone who had saved the city in the full view of the nobles. Not something the nobles were likely to forget anytime soon. He would have laughed if the woman he loved wasn’t suffering so terribly at his side.

The Knight Commander gritted her teeth and spoke quietly, “It appears Kirkwall has a new Champion.”

The crowd broke out in spontaneous cheers. Sekhmet stood up straight, clearly trying to live up to the title. Anders tried desperately to usher Sekhmet from the Viscount’s Keep only to be stopped again and again by people thanking her. She was bleeding badly, but under the intense gaze of the Knight Commander, who was already scowling at the duo and likely plotting their demise, he didn’t dare heal her.

Finally, as she was stopped by yet another noble, Anders turned behind him. He was going to need help, and he knew who to ask. “Fenris.” He hissed, just because he needed the elf’s help didn’t mean he had to like it.

The elf appeared at his side, with the sneer he reserved for Anders plastered to his face. “What now?”

Anders gestured to Sekhmet at his side. “She’s hurt badly; I need to get her out of here to heal her.”

Fenris glanced up and seemed to notice the blood soaking the back of her armor for the first time. His eyes flared wide for a brief moment before he spun around moving quickly back to where Varric and Isabela were standing. Anders watched as the three of them suddenly came surfing forward, almost as one cohesive unit, politely, and not so politely in some cases, they moved people out of Sekhmet and Anders’ way.

They deflected the nobles and Anders was able to usher Sekhmet from the Keep. The two of them had barely cleared the Keep’s doors when Sekhmet’s legs buckled. Anders scooped her up and carried her as fast as his legs would carry them down the long sets of stairs and walkways to their home.

He kicked the front door to get someone’s attention to let him in, his heart thumping in his chest as Sekhmet’s eyes fluttered closed. _“Dear Maker, not again, I don’t think I can handle this twice in one lifetime.”_ He thought.

Bodahn unlocked and opened the door. As soon as it was open Anders pushed right past him. He laid Sekhmet on the floor once he had cleared the door. “Close it and lock it.” He was already unbuckling Sekhmet’s armor so he could get a better view of her wound.

Bodahn locked the door quickly, without a word.

“Here, help me get this off her.” 

Bodahn stepped forward and helped Anders to finish with the buckles then the two of them gently pulled the leather armor from her. Tyr was sitting near her feet whining softly. Anders knew the feeling, his chest hurt seeing her hurt like this. 

He pulled off the light tunic she wore underneath, being gentle when pulling it from where it was sticking against her wound. There was a large and rather ragged slice where the Arishok had skewered her on his blade. Anders bit his lip, his healing energy already wrapping around her body with thick ribbons of sapphire blue.

“How the Void did you keep fighting like this?” He murmured to himself.

There was a lot of internal damage, but not nearly as much blood loss as he had feared. She must have passed out from the pain as the adrenaline wore off. Once he had her healed she stirred a little.

Her eyes fluttered open, “Where am I?”

He wanted to weep in relief, “Home, now shh, you need to rest for a bit.”

She yawned and wrapped her arms around his neck as he scooped her up from the floor. As he headed towards the stairs he paused and looked at Bodahn. “No one but Sebastian gets in.” He paused, chewing his bottom lip for a moment. He knew he was probably going to regret this. “You can let Fenris in, but no one else. Tell them she’s fine, she’s resting.”

Bodahn apparently shared Anders’ doubts, “Master Anders, I do not mean any disrespect ser, but are you sure?”

Anders shook his head, “No, but do it anyways.” 

********

It wasn’t long at all before Sebastian came up the stairs two at a time. Anders was still tucking Sekhmet into the bed. Sebastian paused in the doorway and waited for Anders to waive him in.

Tyr jumped up on the bed, lying at Sekhmet’s feet. Anders didn’t have the heart to send him away. The big hound was worried about his mistress.

“She’s alright, she just needs to rest.” Anders spoke as much to Tyr as to Sebastian.

“I should have been there.” Sebastian’s voice was low as he crossed the room to look at her. 

“You were helping at the Chantry, Sebastian. That’s where you belonged.”

A small smile touched Sebastian’s lips; he must have known those words were really Sekhmet’s. “She’s a good woman.”

Anders nodded, “She is.” _“And I nearly lost her, again.”_ The thought chilled him.

“Are you sure she’s alright, Anders? She’s awfully pale.” His hand traced invisible designs on the duvet next to her very still hand.

Anders tried not to be aggravated by the questioning. Did he really think Anders would not do everything in his power to save her? Did he think Anders would let her suffer in any way if it was within his ability to stop it? 

At least Sebastian had used his name and that was a concession for the Chantry brother, not something Fenris would have even bothered with. “That’s why she’s resting.”

Sebastian looked uneasily at Anders for a moment, before he knelt next to the bed. He closed his eyes and placed his hands on the bed, not quite touching Sekhmet. Anders saw his lips moving but didn’t hear anything Sebastian was saying. It was probably just as well, Anders didn’t care for prayer. He knew exactly how useless it was.

He was, however, surprised to see a tear track down Sebastian’s face. Sebastian stayed that way, kneeling on the floor and praying for what seemed an eon before he stood and looked at Anders again. “You’ll send for me if you need anything?”

“I will.” And Anders meant it. Whether he liked Sebastian or not, he trusted him to help when it came to Sekhmet’s well being.

Sebastian leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. “Take care, dear sister.”

Anders watched him leave, feeling that vague sense of confusion he always felt regarding Sekhmet and Sebastian. Sekhmet wasn’t very religious at all, in fact the only times she even went to the Chantry were to see Sebastian. And the Chantry seemed to be Sebastian’s whole life, yet the two of them had forged a bond that even Anders wasn’t planning on putting to the test any time soon.

**********

Anders was half asleep in a chair next to the bed, Sekhmet’s hand clasped in his when he heard a hesitant knock at the bedroom door a few hours later. Laying her hand carefully on the blankets he stood and moved to the door, cracking it open he saw a very weary and wary Fenris.

“Can I…see her?”

Anders waived him in, whispering, “Please, don’t wake her.”

Fenris nodded and moved over to the bed, he looked her over carefully before moving away and standing awkwardly by one of the walls. “Bodahn said the others couldn’t come in. Why am I here?”

Anders sank back into his chair, taking Sekhmet’s hand again. “Because she would have wanted you to see her.”

He turned to Fenris watching confusion flit across the broody elf’s face. “Why?”

“She knows how you worry. And because I appreciate your help.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” Fenris all but hissed.

Anders turned back to look at Sekhmet, shaking his head. Yes, this had clearly been a bad idea. He didn’t know what he had expected. He just remembered how upset Sekhmet had been to find Fenris drunk and blaming himself for her grief after Leandra died.

Being decent to Fenris didn’t come naturally to him but he’d thought this once he could make an exception. Maybe the elf wouldn’t drink himself into oblivion and do something stupid if he saw Sekhmet was alright, if he understood he had a hand in helping her. It had been an incredibly foolish thing to do as Fenris had just so beautifully demonstrated. The stubborn elf hated even the idea of helping Anders. 

He tried to keep his temper reined in, but Fenris’ attitude just made him want to be alone with Sekhmet. His nerves were raw; he’d just seen the love of his life nearly die while he stood by and did nothing. Dealing with the hateful elf on top of that was more than he could handle just now. “I know. Now maybe you should leave.”

Fenris didn’t move.

Finally, Anders turned to look at him. And instead of screaming for him to get out he managed a semi-civil, “Yes?”

Fenris fidgeted uncomfortably. “I would like to stay a bit.”

Anders felt a flicker of jealousy and wanted to throw him out, wanted to scream at him that he didn’t deserve to be there. But instead he nodded and gestured towards another chair. If Fenris just sat there and shut up it might be easier than trying to fight with him to get him to leave.

Fenris easily picked the chair up and brought it closer to the bed, but made no move to touch her in anyway, which was good. Anders wasn’t sure what he would have done if Fenris had tried to touch her. The silence stretched between them for what seemed like hours before Fenris spoke up, his voice quiet and his gaze carefully avoiding Anders’. “It’s not what you think it is.”

Anders looked up, feeling exhausted and in no mood for another of Fenris’ angry diatribes. “What?”

“How I feel for her. I do not understand or approve of the relationship she has with you, inevitably you will turn on her, will hurt her, and most likely try to kill her, but I do not seek her for my own.” His eyes stayed riveted to Sekhmet’s still form while he spoke.

Anders nodded; a part of him that he didn’t want to admit to did understand Fenris’ over protectiveness of Sekhmet. That part of him understood the looks he caught Fenris casting in her direction when he thought no one else could see. In his fragile state, the words slipped from him before he could stop them. “I know.”

Fenris turned his head, at last looking to Anders. His green eyes suspicious and his posture suddenly rigid, “What do you mean, you know?”

Anders sighed, he needed to just say it and get it over with. If there was ever a time the two of them could talk and be honest it had to be now, didn’t it? All the things they had been through in the course of the day, from the unsettling healing to basically fighting a war side by side, to watching a woman that meant a great deal to them both nearly dying. This was as close as they were ever likely to be. 

And Anders was too tired to be hateful and distrusting right now. “I have a feeling that the way you look at her is similar to how I look at my…sister-in-law.” The words felt strange to say, he never really thought of her like that, just as a friend, his sister, as the woman who tried so hard to save him.

Fenris furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding.

“Sareyna was the first real friend I ever had.” He closed his eyes. “She tried to free me from the grasp of the Templars by making me a Warden, and when the Templars tried to kill me anyway, she defended me.” He pushed his hand back through his hair, feeling a surprising rush of pain in his chest. 

He missed her so much, her temper and her laughter. She had been the first to realize how much pain he had been in. She’d shared her pain with him and somehow it made things better. She had done so much for him, for someone who probably didn’t deserve her friendship. Yet, she had given it freely even still. And he loved her; he would have done anything for her because she had taught him what friendship really was.

He didn’t dare open his eyes, worried that they might show his fragile emotional state. He could give Fenris the truth, but he didn’t need to let the vicious little beast see his heart. “Someone once told me that Sareyna would walk to the ends of Thedas for her friends, and that is exactly what she did for me.” 

He took a deep breath, settling himself and opened his eyes, Fenris was still watching him. “I always felt grateful and a little awed that someone could care about me that much without wanting anything in return, besides my friendship.”

Fenris sat back in his chair. “Awed…and grateful. Yes, I suppose that is how I feel.” Fenris shifted uncomfortably and avoided Anders’ gaze again, and that was fine with Anders.

There would never be a real accord between them. They might both want to help and protect Sekhmet, but they also both believed the other would turn on her. This was as close to peace as there would ever be.


	53. To Dream In Sapphire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient regarding this chapter. I participated in NaNoWriMo this year and had to take a hiatus from Sekhmet and Anders, which wasn't easy I can tell you. But now we should be getting back on track, I hope. Otherwise, Sekhmet might have my head.

Anders closed the bedroom door with a relieved sigh. Fenris had stayed much longer than he had anticipated, much longer than he’d hoped certainly. The two of them had sat there in silence watching Sekhmet as she slept. 

It had become a strange sort of endurance contest. Both men, clearly weary from the day’s events, struggled to stay awake. Anders didn’t feel comfortable nodding off with Fenris in the estate let alone in the same room with himself and Sekhmet. And he hadn’t the energy for an argument so he’d just waited, silently, for the man to leave.

Fenris had actually nodded off in the chair twice before he decided it was time to go. Anders wondered what it said about the two of them that Fenris had felt comfortable enough to slip into slumber. Was it just his stubbornness in not wanting to leave? Or, did the elf trust that Anders wouldn’t kill him at Sekhmet’s bedside?

He’d almost made a remark about the elf letting his guard down the first time he’d awoken. But fear of waking his little lioness stilled his tongue. So, he had sat quietly watching both his beloved and Fenris, hoping with each passing moment that the irritating elf would leave.

Still, it was hours before he left. By that time Sekhmet’s color had started to improve, which was what Anders figured prompted Fenris to finally leave. Whatever caused him to go Anders was grateful. He was beyond exhausted. Every fiber of his being was crying out for rest.

With the door secured behind him he quickly stripped off his clothes, eager to curl up with Sekhmet, to hold her close. His heart wanted proof of what his eyes saw, what his head knew. He crawled into the bed and lay down beside her. 

He stopped himself before reaching out for her, before disturbing her sleep. As much as he wanted to curl up with her he was hesitant to wake her up. She did need sleep, and it would be selfish of him to wake her just so he could hold her and reassure himself she was alright.

He moved close, not quite touching her but close enough to feel the heat of her body, close enough to smell her hair. He felt a tear slide down his cheek and wiped it away. Finally alone with her, the reality of how close he came to losing her crashed through him. And it was his fault, his fault she’d been hurt so badly.

He wrapped his arms around his own waist to stop himself from crushing her against him, from sobbing into her hair and begging her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve her tenderness or the forgiveness he knew she would give so eagerly. He was so angry, so furious with himself. He could have helped her, could have used his magic, consequences be damned. But he hadn’t, he’d been careful and nearly lost her.

He loved her. He knew he did, could feel it in every fiber of his being. Yet, when her life had been in danger he had let Fenris hold him back. Why hadn’t he just shaken the elf off and saved her? If he couldn’t put his life on the line for her, even when he loved her, what kind of man was he?

She turned around surprising him. She looked into his eyes and reached for his hands, pulling them from about his waist. She held them in her own and just watched him. Her skin still paler than usual, her eyes a bit dull looking and dark shadows were painted like bruises beneath them.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He murmured softly.

She smiled and it was small and weak. Releasing one of his hands he swept the back of her fingers down the side of his face. “You fret so loudly I could hear it in my dreams.”

He swallowed thickly, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. “I…” he looked away from her, shame sweeping over him. 

He shoved it down trying to forget about it. But he knew shame too well, too intimately. The Templars had managed to beat it into him no matter how he’d resisted. And now, when he tried to forget it, to ignore it, it reared its ugly head choking and suffocating him again and again as he stumbled through this relationship with Sekhmet. 

“I should have stopped him from hurting you. I could have done it. Justice and I could have killed them all.” He looked back to her, doubt and shame gnawing at his gut, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I love you.” Unable to resist the urge anymore he crushed her against him, burying his face in her snow white hair. “Why didn’t I stop him, why didn’t I save you?”

She held on to him, cradling his head against his shoulder, providing him what solace she could, soothing him even as he should have been soothing her. “I could give you a dozen reasons, my love. But I’ll just give you the most important one, because I didn’t want you to interfere.” She stroked his hair sweetly. “And you did save me. You healed me so I wouldn’t die from my own pride and foolishness.”

She was trying to shift blame away from him again. She always did that, always tried to paint him as someone good. Even after all they had been through, after all she knew of him she clung to this idea that he was a good man. 

A fresh wash of sadness swept through him. Was that why he loved her so much, because she saw something in him that he no longer could? Was it just wishful thinking on her part that made her see that goodness in him or was he just no longer able to see it?

She shifted, pulling him back away from her a little. He lifted his head from her shoulder and let her kiss him softly, a soft press of lips, a token of love and reassurance between them. And when she pulled back she gave him a cheeky, if tired looking smile. “Next time we have to duel the military leader of a country, it’s definitely your turn.”

He didn’t quite manage a smile, just a slight quirking of his lips. Still, he felt so relieved. If she was joking with him, she was fine. As a healer he’d known she would survive, but her teasing put him at ease, nonetheless. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.” 

“I hope so. I have no desire to do anything like that ever again, that really, really fucking hurt.” Her smile widened, “Thankfully, that pissed me off and it’s never a good idea to piss me off.” Her grin faded and she looked around the room, confusion knitting her brows, “I don’t remember getting here.”

“You passed out from the pain. I carried you and healed you as soon as we got here.” He was staring at her adoringly, could feel the ridiculous look on his face. But he was feeling completely overwhelmed with love for her right now, love and gratitude that she was still alive. He coiled some of her beautiful white hair about his finger, toying with it. 

“And, someone let the others know I was alright?” She seemed reluctant to ask.

He nodded, “Of course. Sebastian and Fenris came up to see you and Bodahn told the others when they came knocking.” He tried to be matter of fact about it, like letting the two of them in hadn’t taken all of his will power. Why he even bothered, he had no idea, Sekhmet knew him better than he knew himself half the time.

She did look surprised, though. “You let the two of them in?” She spoke softly, a small thread of gratitude twining through her words. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

He didn’t respond. He had no desire to talk about Fenris and Sebastian. He just wanted to hold Sekhmet and love her and be grateful that she was still alive. “I want you to take a few days off. No running around on these crazy errands for everyone. The city is in shambles and there will be no shortage of people at the door begging for your help. But, you have to rest and take it easy.”

She was quiet for a moment, watching him. Could she see him begging her to listen, just this once not to fight him? She kissed him again, snuggling close. With a big grin she responded, “I shall endeavor to do as the healer orders.”

He narrowed his gaze as her overly dramatic tone. How could she do that, take him from despondent to playful with a few sentences? She was like a balm for his soul as corny and trite as it sounded.

He tore the wretched thing asunder again and again. And she, she held it together, her touch speeding the healing. His soul was scarred and he would never again be as he had been before, but it never stopped her. Even if his soul was more scar than soul, she remained ever his anchor, his tether to what shreds were left of his humanity.

And, he loved her for it, just as he loved her for her smart ass retorts and her shameless smiles. He did his best to return one, “I doubt you’ll endeavor to do any such thing. Luckily, I’m not above chaining you to this bed.”

She giggled, rubbing herself against him lewdly. “Mmm, now that sounds fun. You do that and I might be happy to stay.”

As much as he appreciated her light hearted banter and her flirting, even the image of her chained to the bed, helpless to do anything other than be subject to his whimsy could not stir desire in him. He was far too concerned about her recovering and being nearly overwhelmed with his own fatigue. He held her still, “For now, you’re going to sleep.”

She nodded gently, her smile slipping a little as steel crept into her voice. “ _We’re_ going to sleep.”

It was an order he was happy to take. A few hours of sleep sounded like a brilliant idea. If they were lucky the two of them could forget about what had transpired over that long, horrid day for a little while at least. And if they were very, very lucky, neither of them would dream. Anders would have made a wish if he still believed in them. But, right now the only things he believed in were Justice and Sekhmet.

********

Anders was in the Fade. He hated being in the Fade. Nothing good ever came from him being in the Fade. And much as he tried to avoid it, he seemed to turn up there more and more often as of late. 

Glancing around he cringed, there were things other than Darkspawn that stalked him in this realm. And this dream, he knew it well. He’d had it several times before. And, he could have so easily predicted having it tonight.

The day’s events had played right into this dream and all the fears it symbolized. He heard Sekhmet on the other side of the rise, grunting and panting. A shiver ran through him as dread spun deep in his gut.

He wasn’t going to put himself through this again. He’d never been able to affect the outcome before; all he managed to do was upset himself. And then he’d wake up shaking, a cry of despair escaping him, or at least very nearly escaping.

It would wake her up. And then he’d have to find another way not to tell her about the dream. Even with all the dreams he’d shared with her, all the dark terrors of his mind that had been easy to share, he kept this one a secret. This one was just his own fears coming to haunt him and there was nothing she could do or say to help.

So, he wouldn’t walk over the small rise in front of him. He wouldn’t look upon her and make this even worse. Slowly, he settled down on the ground waiting for the dream to play out. No sense in trying to find his way out of it. That never worked either.

Anders tried to shut the noise out, but he didn’t need to see Sekhmet to know what all the noise was about. Right over that ridge, right on the other side of it, his darling Sekhmet lay on the ground. Pale and naked, the Fade version of her was as lovely as the original. 

And all around her was Anders’ magic, a sapphire cocoon holding her tight. It wrapped about her, not enfolding her as it so often did when he healed her, or made love to her, but binding her. It held her fast, leaving her completely unable to move. And that was bad enough, but it wasn’t all. His magic flowed thick and viscous like some kind of gel up her nostrils and into her mouth choking her.

_“Why do you dwell here? You would not do these things to her.”_ Justice never understood why Anders was unable to help her, or unable to escape this place. 

Anders almost resented him when he had this dream. Justice took control in the Fade when Anders went of his own volition. But, when he was pulled into dreams like this one, Justice was content to leave control in Ander's hands.

He had no real way to explain to Justice that his fears crystallized so specifically in this dream. That the vision of Sekhmet on the other side of that rise was the culmination of all the nagging fears that he could never completely cast aside. In the dark as she slept beside him he worried and fretted and could not stop himself. He was there with the woman he loved and he would have it no other way, but still he worried.

Would he hurt her someday? Would he or Justice turn against her and do something they could never take back? And what about his magic? He was tainted by the Joining which meant his magic was tainted as well, didn’t it? After all his magic was a part of him. And he used his magic on Sekhmet more than anyone else. Was he killing her even as he healed her, as he made love to her?

_“Anders, I do not care for this dream. Let us leave this place.”_ Justice’s voice was becoming rougher, sterner and more agitated.

He wished he could leave. The sounds of the woman he loved choking were proving more difficult to ignore than he had imagined. He covered his ears with his hands as he felt tears start to prick his eyes. He was so damned weak. How could she even love a man as weak as he was?

_“If you do not stop this, Anders, I will.”_ Justice snapped at him.

“Please do.” Anders would be more than happy to surrender the dream to Justice if it could somehow stop the sounds of Sekhmet’s suffering. Let Justice sit through it and listen, or let him find some way out Anders had missed. Anything had to be better than this.

Justice didn’t hesitate; he pushed forward taking control leaving Anders to watch helplessly, his feelings blessedly muted for the time being. Justice stood and headed over the rise quickly. Sekhmet was laid out below, naked and pale under the sapphire blue of Anders’ magic. 

There was something different this time, however, a gristly new twist. His magic still flowed up into her nostrils and into her mouth forcing her mouth wide. And her eyes, oh those pale blue orbs he adored, were open and unblinking as if forced open. 

All of that he had seen before. Just like the fear in her eyes was always there. A fear his darling Sekhmet never seemed to feel in the waking world.

But, in her abdomen was the ragged wound he had healed on her earlier that night. It was open again and his magic was flowing into the open wound as well. Sekhmet twisted and writhed, not moving nearly as much as the effort should have warranted, as his magic was forced into her, into her lungs, into her stomach and even into the cavity of her body. Sweet Maker his magic was forcing itself into her, filling her as if she were some sort of fowl being prepared for the table of a lord.

Justice didn’t slow at the sight of her, didn’t even seem to notice the new injury, the new orifice being filled. He strode up to her and crouched, scooping her up into his arms. His hands never touching her skin, held apart by the barrier of Anders’ magic still cocooning her.

He tried to dispel Anders’ magic to no avail. Then tried again, using more power behind the spell. Still, nothing happened. The third time Justice grunted with the effort to dispel the magic. 

A sudden horrifying thought alit in Anders’ mind, something that had apparently been too terrible for him to contemplate before. Was this really Sekhmet? What if this was his beloved and not just some projection meant to punish him with his own fears.

_“Justice, is it her?”_ Please don’t let it be her.

Anders could feel Justice’s frustration as he spoke. “I know not. The magic surrounding her is making it impossible to tell.”

_"So, the magic is real?”_ Then why couldn’t Justice just dispel it?

Surprise and curiosity from Justice, “Can you not tell? It is your magic, my friend.”

Anders had always assumed that the magic was just a projection from the Fade, that it was only his fears that made it feel like his magic. Dear Maker, what if he was really choking Sekhmet with his magic? _“Stop it Justice, please, you have to stop it. The magic is killing her.”_

An emotional retreat from Justice, Anders could no longer discern what the spirit was feeling. His friend felt cold and distant, almost alien. “I cannot. You know I have already tried. I was not able to stop it.”

_“Please Justice”_ There had to be something they could do, something to save Sekhmet. He’d go mad if he had to watch her die choking on his magic.

“Anders, calm yourself. I do not think it is killing her. Would she not have stopped breathing long before now if it was killing her?” His seeming indifference did nothing to calm Anders whose mind was filled with thoughts that all his fears were coming true. He was killing the woman he loved.

_“What are you talking about?”_ Anders wasn’t thinking clearly. He just saw the woman he loved in danger, seemingly by his own hand, yet he wasn’t able to do anything about it.

“Please, Anders, you must settle yourself. This, whatever it is, has been going on for some time now. She appears worried and confused but there is no longer fear in her eyes. It does not seem as if she is afraid for her life.” He shifted Sekhmet’s weight a little. “And I think the magic is dissipating now. Does it not seem thinner than before?”

Anders calmed himself and took a closer look. It did indeed look like there was a thinner layer of magic wrapped around her, much thinner than before. And Justice was right, Sekhmet didn’t look frightened. Perhaps she, or at least this Fade version of her, realized she could still breathe.

Justice began walking, still holding Sekhmet in his arms. It took Anders a few moments to realize he was looking for a way out of the dream. Anders had looked when they’d had this dream previously and never found one, but perhaps Justice would get lucky. 

Besides, this dream was taking a different direction already. Usually, Anders became panicked at seeing Sekhmet and tried desperately to free her. Each effort only making her predicament worse adding layers of his thick magic to wrap around her instead of removing it. 

Or, he would run around looking for a way out of the dream. He’d never held her like Justice was doing, never cradled her against him as his essence was forced into her. And suddenly he wanted to be the one holding her, wanted desperately to offer what comfort he could.

Justice receded almost as quickly as Anders had the thought. Sekhmet seemed lighter than she should in his arms. But, he still felt better holding her. His racing thoughts settled and some of the tension left him. Even here in the Fade, in this strange dream she affected him in amazing ways. 

Calmly, he stalked the perimeter of the dream looking for a way out of it while he kept looking to the incredible woman he held in his arms. Finally, realizing there was still no way to get out of this particular dream he sat down, cradling Sekhmet in his arms, holding her close against him, seeking to feel her even through the cocoon of sapphire blue. The shell of magic wrapped around her was the barest glimmer over her skin. She still seemed to be held mostly immobile and watched him with calmer eyes, still a little worried but much more calm now.

He squeezed her tight against him for a moment. “Are you my Sekhmet or just some echo of her?” He sighed softly as her eyes just kept watching him. “Would you even know if you could speak?” A sliver of him seemed to know, but he didn’t want to admit it. Could a Fade echo stir his heart and calm his spinning mind like the real Sekhmet?

Suddenly, he felt a slight tug at his side and looked down to see what looked to be more of his magic spindling straight out of his skin and wrapping around Sekhmet. It was only now he realized he was as naked as she, cradling her body against his naked flesh. The new spindle of sapphire wasn’t cocooning her like the magic that was already covering her. Rather it swirled around her like loose ribbons

“Does that hurt?” Of course she couldn’t answer, but she didn’t seem frightened or in pain so he took that as a good sign, especially since he couldn’t seem to stop it. At a loss he stayed where he was seated holding her and hoping the dream would end soon. He sighed sadly, “Not much of a mage am I love? I can’t even control my own dreams.”

The pale blue of her eyes, held wide by magic just watched him. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t seem to convey much of anything. Yet, somehow he felt a phantom touch on his cheek, just as she had done a million times before to soothe him. His eyes fluttered shut as he relished the feeling, her love and acceptance, like he often did, drinking it with deep gratitude. 

He wanted to promise her anything, everything. But the truth kept his mouth shut. As long as the mages needed him, she would always come second, no matter how much he loved her, how much he needed her for his very survival. But he would give her everything else.

His soul, his heart were ripped in twain, half for Justice and half for her. There was nothing left for him.

Time ticked by, he wasn’t sure how much. Time was funny in the Fade. But, eventually, the cocoon seemed to disappear, slipping inside of his beloved completely leaving only the swirling ribbons behind. Sekhmet stretched her jaw and blinked her eyes a few times before glancing down to where a blue stream of magic directly from Anders was sliding into the wound in her abdomen.

She touched it gently, “Is that where the Arishok stabbed me?”

Anders nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The worry that this might really be his Sekhmet was crawling over him again. He was a mage; he should be able to tell the difference between the woman he loved and some conjuration of his mind or even some demon’s manipulation. But, for whatever reason, he couldn’t tell if this Sekhmet was real or not. Or maybe it was closer to the truth to say he didn’t want to know.

She looked up at him, her pale blue eyes sad. “Am I dead?”

That made his heart stutter in his chest painfully. “No, I healed you. We’re sleeping.”

She looked around, holding onto his shoulder tightly. “We’re in the Fade?”

He nodded, shifting her closer to him again. He wanted to crush her against him and cover her with kisses but refrained. If this was some demon it was better to be cautious.

She shivered and burrowed closer to his chest. “I’m chilly.”

He immediately shifted her to rest mostly in his lap so he could feel her head, Sekhmet always complained of being hot, not cold. Was she ill, had some infection he hadn’t detected taken hold? Had he failed her, was that why she was in the Fade with him? 

His heart eased a little as he touched her forehead. She felt alright, but this was just the Fade. “Do you want me to make a fire?” He could do that easily enough in the Fade.

She shook her head, holding more tightly to him. “Just don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he whispered a promise to her.

She reached down and touched the wound again, her fingers slipping into the stream of magic flowing out of him and into her. “What are you doing?”

He followed the trail of magic, still trying to understand it, or to stop it and failed at both. “I don’t know; I can’t seem to stop it. I have no idea what’s going on to be honest.”

She looked back up at him, her fingers skating over his cheek and chin. “Are you alright, Anders? I can feel it inside of me and it’s an awful lot of magic. Does it hurt?”

He watched the stream slipping under her skin. It did look like a lot of magic, but it didn’t feel as if it was depleting him. In fact, it felt rather good. As odd as it was he felt more whole, more complete. He felt calmer, more relaxed. And now that he thought about it he realized his fears and concerns for her were gone, evaporated like mist. In their place was the certainty that she was alright, was safe.

He could feel her concern for him, niggling at the edges of his mind, but other than that he felt content. Unable to stop himself he leaned down and kissed her, this was his Sekhmet, he knew it, could feel it completely now. There was no question. 

She eagerly kissed him back and her own concern disappeared, or at least he could no longer feel it. Her lips parted for him, opening for him, inviting him in. Her arms twined around his neck and she pulled herself tighter against him.

The kiss was potent, staggering him with the need and pleasure that flowed over him from such a simple kiss. It was only with some serious effort that he was able to break the kiss. The two of them needed to get out of this dream, and try to figure out what had happened or if it was just another of his odd dreams.

As he pulled away she looked up at him with half lidded eyes and a lazy, satisfied smile. “You’ll never get rid of me now.”

The idea pleased him to no end instead of filling him with worry as it normally would because it sounded peculiarly like a desire demon gloating. “And why is that?” He asked lightly, still filled with wonder at how content and satisfied, how completely calm he felt. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this good.

She touched his side where the magic was seeping from his skin. “We’re tied now, tethered to each other.”

Any other time that idea would terrify him. Being bound to him couldn’t possibly be safe, or sane. But right now, in this dream he welcomed the idea. To always be connected to Sekhmet sounded like bliss itself. She would never have to be alone again and he would always have that connection to his humanity. 

“Anders?”

“Yes?” Her voice seemed to demand his attention.

She gestured behind him. “I think it might be time to go.”

He turned and glanced, noticing the landscape behind him melting. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Slowly, as he held her and she held onto him the scene around them faded into nothingness. Sekhmet disappeared with the dream, her body dissipating. But, somehow, he could still feel her, knew she was safe and sleeping beside him. 

Anders didn’t dream anymore that night, the night was restful for once, for which he was grateful.

********

Sekhmet was lying on her side, her back curled up against Anders’ chest and his arm wrapped around her. They had been up for a couple of hours but they were enjoying a lazy day snuggled together under the covers, a respite well deserved after the previous day.

And she was enjoying Anders’ new found serenity. He’d woken up with a smile, a rarity in and of itself. He snuggled up close to her, sniffed her hair and purred in pleasure.

She’d expected him to be anxious and uptight after last night. Could it really be that a good night of sleep had put things into perspective for her perpetually trouble mage? She had no idea what had him so relaxed and carefree and she didn’t care. She was too busy reveling in it.

She traced her fingers over the back of Anders’ hand lightly. He had such beautiful hands, long and fine boned, skilled and soft. They dwarfed her own and even that pleased her. Usually, she hated feeling small, but with Anders somehow it made her feel safe and cherished as ridiculous as that sounded. She loved it.

He was used to her strange obsession with his hands by now, letting her touch and caress them as she desired. Maybe she was a little in awe of all he could do with those hands. He healed the sick and injured, protected her and himself with incredibly powerful spells and sent her to dizzying heights of ecstasy. And he touched her, just his soft skin on hers, but each time they touched it felt like more, like he was stroking her spirit, her essence, the very core of what she was. 

She smiled, amused with her own thoughts. She adored those talented hands. She adored him. And she was more than content just to lie in his arms, contented just to lie beside him. She felt Anders nuzzle her hair and smiled, his arm tightened around her for a moment.

A warm glow seemed to suffuse her as if she could feel his pleasure as a physical sensation inside of her. She dragged her mind out of its happy, hazy stupor. “We have to get up at some point you know.”

Anders sighed heavily, clearly unhappy with the idea, but didn’t move. “No, we don’t. We can just lie here and relax; there is nothing that needs to be taken care of at just this moment.”

Sekhmet pulled Anders’ arms away from her waist a little so she could turn to look at him. He released her and relaxed onto his back smiling up at her when she did. “You feeling alright, Anders?”

Anders nodded and pulled her down so her head was resting on his chest. “I’m just very tired, love.”

She thought he’d slept well. Hadn’t that been the reason for his unusual happy mood? If he was so loathe to leave the bed because he was tired, then why was he still awake? “Maybe we should try to get more sleep.”

Anders stroked her hair softly, “Stop worrying, I’m alright. I just want to lay here and hold you without worrying where we have to be next or who we have to save. I don’t want to think about who might come after me because I’m a mage and you’re with me or who I have to listen to telling me I’m a monster for the day. Let’s just be for a while.”

Sekhmet relaxed incrementally against him. She knew exactly what he was talking about, even when they were home most of the time their minds were elsewhere. Her mind was on the dozens of jobs stacked on her desk down stairs, people waiting for help. Many ridiculous requests, but also some who truly needed help.

And Anders wasn’t the only one who worried about who was after him. She’d made herself as much of a target as he was if not more so. Though, in truth, she still mostly worried for him. It was a daily struggle for both of them, worrying about keeping Anders' secret. The more people who knew of Justice the more dangerous Kirkwall became for them both, but especially Anders.

If that wasn’t enough to worry about there was the clinic. Were they helping enough, was there more they could do? Should they have it open more? Granted, they had begun to pay someone to keep an eye on it and run messages if there was an emergency, but the two of them were out and about more than they were there now.

Add to that the ever present threat of the Wardens coming to track Anders down. Or any number of angry Kirkwallers coming for Sekhmet and everyday was filled with stress, and frustration and an ocean of ‘what ifs’. Anders was right, they needed a day off. So, she pushed all the thoughts of jobs and favors and his clinic from her mind and just enjoyed the warm touch of his skin against hers.

Curled up against him like this, her head on his chest and arm draped on his abdomen it was easy enough to shed those worries. With one hand still in her hair, his other hand reached to twine with hers against his abdomen. She let her eyes drift close and listened to the soothing rhythm of his heart. 

It was nice to pretend just for a while that they were a typical happy couple and not the newly named Champion of Kirkwall and her wanted apostate lover. It was nice to forget all the favors and obligations that those things entailed. No, here in their bed, in his arms she just felt like a woman, a well loved woman. 

As she basked happily in those emotions she felt an odd slightly cool sensation on her hand but nowhere else. For a moment she did nothing, trying to discern if it was some breeze of perhaps her imagination. But, it didn’t go away, in fact, it intensified and spread. It almost tickled. 

Her skin tingled, almost as if she were feeling magic touching her. But that cool sensation, was that Justice trying to come through? Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw little wisps of sapphire blue rising, almost like mist from Anders’ hand where it was entwined with hers. 

She watched it for a moment, surprised at how beautiful it was. Swirling and diaphanous it seemed to twist slowly, almost like it was dancing as it seeped from his very pores. Had she really thought his hands couldn’t be any more fantastic? The little swirls of magic were breathtaking and made her skin tingle delightfully. 

It stirred her right on the edge of pleasure and arousal. She loved the way Anders’ magic felt against her skin, always had. Of course, when he started using his magic in their lovemaking it had brought an entirely new level to how much she liked it.

This was strange though, Anders didn’t seem to be cognizant of what he was doing. She thought of just leaving it alone, of just enjoying the beautiful display. But, would Anders be cross if he found out later that she’d kept it to herself? As much as she didn’t want to interrupt their lovely morning, she should at least ask him about it. “Anders?”

“Hmm?” It was a tired sounding but contented rumble.

She hesitated again, was this really enough to ruin their lazy morning? Still, she forged ahead. “What is that?”

“What’s what, love?” He murmured.

The magic had expanded to engulf both of their hands, twisting and twirling almost like smoke surrounding them. “Our hands, what is that?”

Anders lay still for a moment unmoving, like he was processing what she was saying before he quickly lifted his head. And as he moved the blue mist evaporated. He looked down at their hands then back to her. “What, what did you see? Did I miss something?”

She smiled to reassure him. She could slap herself for the worried look in his eyes. “It started out on your hand, then expanded so it was around both of our hands. There was this incredibly beautiful magic, like a sapphire blue mist twirling and dancing about them. It looked almost like your healing magic.”

He scowled a little, “I wasn’t doing any magic.” He released her hand, lifting his own to look at the back then turning it over to look at the palm before turning his worried gaze to her. “Did I hurt you?”

She slipped her fingers back between his, wishing she had just kept her mouth shut. “Why is that always your first question?”

Anders let their hands settle back on his abdomen, even as he pulled her closer against him with his other arm. “Because I don’t think you would volunteer the information if I did.”

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” She dropped a soft kiss on his chest, hoping to undo some of the damage she’d wrought in their wonderful morning. “It just felt cool against my skin. At first I thought it was Justice, but because it was just our hands I opened my eyes to see what it was. It was quite beautiful actually.”

********

Anders had no idea what to make of what Sekhmet was describing. He’d never heard of anything like that even in the tower, and definitely had never experienced anything like that. When he was lost in the heat of passion he sometimes felt his magic accumulate around them, could even see it, but that was not something new. He’d experienced losing control of his magic during sex before, granted not to the extent he did with her, but still. 

And the two of them were merely lying in their bed, relaxing and enjoying each other. There was no passion to distract him, to fuel a buildup of magical energy. So, what could it possibly be that she had seen? And why had it disappeared when he tried to look? 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to relax. He didn’t want to tense up with worry; it would only upset Sekhmet if he did. She hadn’t been hurt and it didn’t seem dangerous so he would push it aside for now and think it over at another time.

For now, he was going to try to get back to enjoying Sekhmet’s company. This morning he had awoken feeling happier than he had in years and decidedly content as well. He’d known Sekhmet was healthy and safe beside him before he’d even completely woken up. And Justice had been quiet, but not in a brooding sense, rather he just seemed to be quietly relaxed as well.

It had been a glorious way to wake up, and once awake Anders hadn’t wanted it to end. Using Sekhmet’s obvious need for rest after her healing as an excuse he decided his time would be much better spent snuggling with her for a while than climbing out of bed and arguing with her to stay in it. Even her worry for him this morning had been amusing rather than irritating.

Considering the day before and that terrifying dream he was surprised as how at ease he felt today. And having Sekhmet slip into the same relaxed feeling with him had been wonderful. He imagined this might be what mornings felt like for normal happy couples. 

No wonder people were so concerned with finding their partner if this was what they were searching for. He let the image of him and Sekhmet with a small family, living somewhere far from Kirkwall flit through his mind and for once felt no guilt on the heels of it. There was no harm in fantasies after all.

He thought that perhaps, after his time as a Warden he might even have some practical skills that might make him a good father. And Sekhmet, for all her protests otherwise, would make a good mother. She’d be fierce and protective, and would teach their children how to stand up for themselves and what they believed in.

Sekhmet shifted and looked up at him, “And just what are you thinking about that has you grinning like a fool?”

Was he grinning? Yes, apparently he was. Would the idle fantasies of becoming a father never die? “Family.” He’d leave it simple, not a lie, but not the whole truth either. Just what would his fearsome lioness think if she knew how often he envisioned her round with his child?

She was quiet for a long time, and he thought perhaps he’d upset her even with his vague answer. Finally, she smiled again, “Your brother loves you so much, Anders. Why don’t you speak of him more often?”

Anders shrugged, then rethought his non-answer as disingenuous. “Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend those months at the Keep, those months with my family never happened.”

She nodded, “I miss Beth, too.”

He stroked her hair, he missed Ali and the others, and he’d only known them a short time. How much harder must it be for her? Not just was Bethany gone now, but she went out of her way to steer clear of Sekhmet and any correspondence from her. Perhaps, he should work harder at getting the girls to reconcile when he wrote to Beth.


	54. A Golden Promise

Anders was bent over the writing desk downstairs doing some revisions on his manifesto when Sekhmet came up behind him. He didn’t much react to her because she often rubbed his shoulders or played with his hair while he was writing. And she’d been getting restless today.

He figured she was softening him up to tell him she was done staying home, that she needed to work. And much as he would like to keep living in the blissful fantasy they’d been sharing for the last week he wouldn’t stop her. They both knew it had to end sooner or later. Frankly, he was surprised she had lasted this long. At least he wouldn’t have to reassure Bodahn that he hadn’t lost his job anymore. 

The dwarf had become worried when Sekhmet had given him the week off. And that worry had become paranoia when she suggested that he and Sandal might want to take a trip out of the house for the week. They hadn’t come back, but he’d sent a letter everyday asking how things were and if Anders and Sekhmet needed anything. Anders found the devotion odd, but endearing.

Sekhmet had sent Orana off to stay with Merrill for a while so the two of them had the entire estate to themselves. He couldn’t suppress his grin as he thought about what good use they’d made of the time. Anders had felt different all week, calmer, surer of himself and less worried about Sekhmet. It had been incredibly liberating for both of them.

They spent most of the day together and in the evenings he would work on his manifesto while she worked on whatever project grabbed her fancy. But, this wasn’t the first time she’d interrupted him for one reason or another. And, he always welcomed the intrusions. For now, he waited patiently to see what she would do so he wouldn’t make a mess on the parchment with the ink.

As she pulled the leather thong from his hair Anders tipped back his head with a rumble of pleasure. There was nothing better in the world than feeling Sekhmet’s fingers on his scalp, rubbing and massaging it and slipping through his tresses, grown longer than he’d ever let them before. 

“I’ve been sitting in the library for the last few hours thinking about you.” She murmured softly.

Unsure of her mood he tried at levity. “That must have been terribly dull.”

She tugged his hair lightly, teasingly, “Thinking of you is never dull, trust me.”

He chuckled lightly setting down his quill, “In that case, madam, I am glad I can entertain you.”

“Something changed,” she mused, “something kind of wonderful.”

“Oh?” He couldn’t guess at where this was going, but with her fingers still running through his hair he was content enough to wait.

“Yes, but I think you’re going to have to figure it out for yourself and in the mean time…” her fingers stilled. “I love you.” She whispered in his ear.

Philosophical and playful, she was rarely both at the same time. Her moods, the span of them, the surprise of them was part of what he adored about her. She was no simple girl. No, his beloved was a complicated creature.

“Mmm, I love you too, meus parum leaena.” This week had been filled with moments like this, moments to treasure, to remember. Anders would treasure each of them.

She kissed the top of his head and ran her fingers through his hair again. After a few moments he leaned forward to pick up his quill and began to write once again. Her musing seemed to be done and she seemed content just to play with his hair.

Sekhmet’s callused fingers, short and strong, massaged his shoulders and neck. As hard as Anders tried he could not focus on his writing, her fingers just felt too good. Not to mention Sekhmet had clearly put on some of the sandalwood oil he had bought for her a few weeks back and as the scent wove around him it became very distracting.

Suddenly, Sekhmet ruffled his hair and flipped it in front of his face. Anders set the quill down with a quiet chuckle and stood up to give her a mock stern look. “I am trying to work here.”

Sekhmet, sassy grin plastered on her face, just shrugged and rolled her eyes, “Yes, yes, I know mages, mages, blah blah blah, Templars bad, sick’em kitty.”

Anders snorted involuntarily with laughter at that. Justice grumbled a little at her irreverence involving Anders’ manifesto but it was barely a glimmer across his thoughts. Anders’ attention was firmly on his lady love, watching him with amused, and if he wasn’t mistaken, hungry eyes. She wanted to play, and he was eager to please.

Quickly, Sekhmet picked up one of Tyr’s small leather balls and threw it at Anders in jest. He ducked out of the way easily enough and started after Sekhmet thinking to catch her easily. It wasn’t to be. 

She anticipated his lunge and sprinted up the stairs giggling like a teenager as he chased her. She led him on a merry chase through the upstairs, around and across their bed before dashing back down stairs and through the kitchens. 

His larger size, usually a benefit to him hindered him as his tiny, speedy lover raced around the house ahead of him, still giggling. It was music and he couldn’t help laughing with her, enjoying the little game. Truly, he didn’t mind chasing her down. 

Playing together like this fed his fantasies of the future. Fantasies he had indulged in repeatedly this past week, wasting hours envisioning the impossible. He didn’t care if it was impossible, the thoughts made him feel good, made him happy.

As for Sekhmet, he finally caught her on her second flight up the stairs. He pinned her to the wall on the stairs and couldn’t hide the grin on his face as her chest heaved with her breathing. “And just what do you think you were doing little girl?” Pinned like this and breathing heavy she stirred his desires; he let the fires grow enjoying the anticipation in his rapidly heating blood.

“You looked like you needed a break.” She wrapped her arm around his trim waist and pulled him tight against her. Anders had her other arm trapped as he pinned it against the wall, but she tried to pull free all the same. She gave him her sexy little smirk, a triumphant smirk. “Does Anders want to play?”

Anders chuckled again quietly, did he want to play? Most definitely; she was learning his secrets even though he’d tried to hide them from her. Having to chase her down and pin her before he could have her? It called to the strange needs he couldn’t quite give voice to, the ones he’d thought to protect her from. Like this though, it seemed a little harmless fun. 

“Life is never boring with you around, love.” He kissed her soft and tender at first then more ardently. Pulling back he looked at her, taking in her lips, dark but unpainted, her pale blue eyes, so unique and so beautiful. Wouldn’t all that pale skin look incredible against the dark stone of the stairs? 

He thought it would and very much wanted her laid out upon them, legs spread lewdly in invitation. “I don’t think we’ve made love on the stairs yet.” His smile cracked a little wider. “I want to make love to you in every square inch of this estate.” They’d made a good start of it this week, but there were so many more places he hadn’t yet thought of.

Sekhmet’s smile widened, “Well then, ser mage, you should probably get started.”

Anders slipped a toggle free on her tunic and slid the fabric apart, slipping it off her shoulder, gently he dropped a kiss to her shoulder and then another to her clavicle. “Gladly.”

********

Sekhmet sat naked on the stairs before him, propped up on her elbows as she watched him. Anders was seated a few steps below her, his head resting on her inner thigh. He’d wasted too much time, pushed her away again and again when he could have been enjoying days like today years ago. He was such a fool. Softly, he kissed her inner thigh and looked up at her, “Can you ever forgive me?”

She gazed down at him adoringly, “Forgive you for what, my love?”

He stroked her thigh, so incredibly white it was nearly blue, and leaned forward placing a soft kiss on her other thigh, “For not being as fearless as you, for wasting all of that time.”

With a smile she reached down and stroked his hair affectionately, “There’s nothing to forgive, you thought you were protecting me.”

It seemed almost ridiculous now. She was the only one who ever gave Justice reason to pause. Even when Justice was in a fury she’d been able to reach Anders. Protect her? She’d been protecting him all this time, from himself, from Justice and from anything or anyone else who threatened him.

Maybe it would have made him feel emasculated at one time in his life. Now, it just made him want to return the favor. He’d do his best to protect her, from anything that sought to harm her, including herself. 

He would not sit by again as he had done with the Arishok. Kirkwall would run red with the blood of any who dared threaten her. A prickle of warmth ran through him, pleasant and brief. The idea of protecting her made him feel good. 

Anders raised himself up, his knees resting between her legs on the step below the one she sat upon. He lowered himself gently over her and held himself above her with one arm as he kissed her, drinking in her taste and that incredible scent of hers. He wanted to sink back down into her arms, wanted to tell her how completely he belonged to her. 

A brief vision of him prostrating himself before her and offering her up his very soul fluttered across his mind making him smile. It seemed appropriate he supposed. Anything he didn’t consign to the fight for mage freedom was now hers. And he wanted to tell her, wanted some way to express it. 

But words failed him and all that tumbled from his lips were shallow syllables that did nothing to explain the depth of connection he felt to her. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, do not doubt it. Whatever the future holds, know that I love you, always.”

Her smile dissolved a little, as if the useless, nearly to the point of meaninglessness, words had offended her as well. But, she kissed him back gently, briefly, “I thought we agreed, no planning for the future. With lives like ours there’s no sense in it.”

Damn this wall they put up between them. Leaving the past behind them was one thing, but the constant reminders of their lack of a future together felt like they would kill him some days. He wanted no such barrier today; he didn’t want the fantasy just in his head. Could she not play along, just this once? “Let’s pretend just for today, that we live normal lives. That we have a long future ahead of us.” He stood and took her hand pulling her up after him.

She raised a brow as she looked at him, eyes suspicious. “And what, pretend that I’m your wife?”

He stroked her hair gently, _“Give me this, my love, please.”_ He wouldn’t beg her, not aloud, but he could push a little. “Would that be so bad?”

Her eyes softened, “Hmmm, I suppose I could think of a few worse things.” She turned and headed up the stairs.

He caught her near the top of the stairs. “Only a few?” He tried to keep his voice light, as if he were amused by her little joke instead of hurt. 

But, she must have heard something in his voice. She knew him too well and looked up at him with more serious eyes. “It was a joke, Anders.”

Anders nodded; it wasn’t enough to shatter his happy afterglow. It was a momentary sting after all. There was no need to contemplate the future tonight. For now he was happy with what they had. And if she couldn’t pretend for him he could accept that. 

He headed back down the stairs and grabbed their clothing before walking back up to where Sekhmet was still waiting. He gave her a smile, “How about a bath? We’re both a bit sticky.”

“Only if you let me wash you down,” she paused to give him an impish smile, “thoroughly.”

Anders chuckled; he would take playful Sekhmet and appreciate it. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As she went to pull a couple towels from the linen cupboard he slipped into the bathing chamber and traced the dwarven sigil carved into the tub. It quickly started filling with water. While he waited he ran his fingers through his hair untangling it, smiling to himself at the memory of how it became tangled in the first place.

He traced the sigil again when the tub was full and the flow of water stopped. Anders warmed the tub with a touch and checked it to make sure it wasn’t too hot. He felt Sekhmet slip her arms around his waist and place a kiss on his back.

He reveled in her touch. “It’s ready.”

“Good.” Sekhmet climbed into the tub carefully holding onto Anders’ hand as she did so. She settled into the warm water with a happy sigh. “Come, sit in front of me.”

Anders climbed in and settled himself between her legs, his back to her chest. Sekhmet hugged him again, pressing another soft kiss to his back. Slowly, she released him and grabbed the soap sitting on the small shelf above the tub and began soaping the washing cloth she had brought into the tub with her.

When she was satisfied she reached around him and began soaping his chest. She rested her head on his back while she worked. Anders closed his eyes and tipped his head forward slightly enjoying the feeling of her touch. 

These intimacies he shared with her were new to him. He’d never known how much love such little gestures could hold. The feel of her arms around him, her cheek resting against his back, he felt completely loved and cherished. 

He’d always liked being touched, had enjoyed what affection he could get. With Sekhmet it was so different, each touch was a declaration, each embrace a peek into her heart. He’d only recently realized that her touches had always been like that.

Not just light affection, but an invitation to see what was inside her. She’d been offering herself, her heart to him all along, even at the beginning. Anders had just been too dense to see it, or perhaps he’d been too busy or willfully blind. Now he reveled in it, in every touch. Every invitation set his own heart fluttering happily in response.

Slowly and thoroughly Sekhmet cleaned every inch of him, directing him to move as she needed so she could reach all of him. Eventually, Anders was leaning against the opposite side of the tub facing her as she cleaned his calves and feet. His head lolled against the back of the tub, his whole body was feeling loose and relaxed and thoroughly loved.

When she finished Anders opened his eyes and watched as she started cleaning herself. Watching the suds slide over her skin was arousing him all over again. “Love, get on your knees, I want to watch.”

Sekhmet smirked and did as he bid. Taking probably more time than was necessary to rinse herself off, showing off for him. Not that Anders was going to complain, she looked beautiful. 

He reached out to caress her hip. “Enough or I’m going to embarrass myself.” 

She giggled, “I doubt that,” with a predatory gaze she climbed over him and sat astride his hips and kissed him gently. Anders’ hand reached up to gently cup her breast and his thumb slid over her nipple. He bent and slowly licked his tongue along her scar. She shivered against him and gave him another soft kiss when he lifted his head.

Anders was surprised and a little disappointed when she stood up suddenly, carefully climbing out of the tub. “Is everything alright?”

Sekhmet nodded and quickly dried off. She grabbed another towel and turned back to him with a smile, “Come on out. I’ll dry you off.”

Anders stood, a faint unease trying to find a footing in his mind. “Is it my name day today? You’re spoiling me rotten.” He climbed out of the tub and Sekhmet dried him off quickly, taking care with his hair so it wouldn’t tangle too badly. 

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” She darted quickly from the room and Anders enjoyed the view of her pert little ass, her perfect hips, her muscular but perfectly feminine back, and all her alabaster skin as she left the room. When she came back a few moments later she had his dressing gown and his soft, if very worn, slippers. Sekhmet was still naked.

Anders started to feel a little uncomfortable, the unease finally finding a foothold. He felt like there was something he was missing. “What are you doing?”

A small smile touched her lips, “What, I can’t spoil my sweet prince every once in a while?”

Anders tried not to cringe, he really didn’t care for that particular nickname but she rarely used it so he kept it to himself. “I suppose.”

“Good, come on.” She took his hand and tugged him into the bedroom leading him to the upholstered chair in the corner he sometimes liked to sit in when he was reading or when he was just trying to get away from the rest of the house for a while.

Hesitantly, he sat in it and waited as she went to her small bedside table and came back with a small jar of olive oil that she sometimes used on her skin when it was dry. She knelt on the floor in front of him and poured a small amount of oil into her palm. 

Briskly rubbing her hands together she warmed it before taking one of his hands in her own. She massaged the oil into his hand and Anders sighed in pleasure, this was another of the small rituals he had become fond of, especially since it lead to sex more often than not. She worked the oil into his hands almost every night before they slept. He assumed it was part of her strange obsession with his hands. 

With that done she strode to the vanity to grab the wide toothed comb. With him sitting comfortably in the chair she combed his hair, moving around him to make sure it was all untangled. Then she stepped back several steps and combed her own. 

Anders loved watching her comb out her hair; she always looked so blissful when she did it. Anders shifted a little in the chair, unease eating at him now, when he realized that even the combing of her hair was a show for him. What was she doing?

When she had finished, her damp strands combed neatly down her back, she knelt on the floor and rested her head on his knee. There was an odd fluttering in his stomach as if he were nervous or dreading something. He ignored it, there was nothing going on here that boded ill yet.

Anders ran his fingers through her white hair enjoying the feel of it and of her closeness. “My love,” he whispered. Not calling for her, just stating it, the truth of who this amazing woman was to him. She didn’t stir; letting him continue to stroke her hair.

After a few moments he just rested his hand gently on her head, touching the back of it lightly, his sad attempt at forging a connection like the ones she managed with her touches. They stayed that way for a long time, neither wanting to move. To Anders it never seemed like they had enough of these moments, just peaceful time to be together. 

This week was coming to an end and she would demand to be loosed on the world again. And when he agreed these moments would disappear again. The thought gave him pause. Was that what all this pomp was about? 

Did she think she needed to butter him up before letting him know she couldn’t stay cooped up anymore? The idea made him sad. He would always give her freedom when she asked for it.

When Sekhmet lifted her head and kissed his knee he felt disappointed the moment had ended but didn’t complain. He wasn’t the one sitting on the cold stone floor naked. Sekhmet stood up and Anders started to follow suit.

She pushed him back down gently. “I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he responded cautiously.

Sekhmet smiled, again it was small. “Always so suspicious.”

“Sorry.” He muttered, he wished she would just say it already so he could put her mind at ease, both of their minds. In a momet he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore and he would just tell her to go do whatever it was that was calling to her.

She crossed the room and pulled a small key off the top of one of the bookcases. He knew it went to her writing desk in the corner. Slipping the key into the lock of one of the small compartments on the top, it opened with an audible click that Anders heard on the other side of the room.

He watched her curiously as she pulled out a small box and walked back to him and knelt back at his feet. What was she doing? What was this box and what did it have to do with the restlessness that had been building in her all day?

The fire was dying and the room was cooling off, and she was still naked. Anders leaned forward and caressed her cheek, “Aren’t you cold?”

Sekhmet shook her head and as she did he noticed there were beads of sweat on her forehead.

Gently, he wiped them away and held the back of his hand against her forehead worry for her health starting to override any other concerns he had. “Are you sick?”

Sekhmet pulled his hand away with a quiet laugh. “No, just nervous.”

“Nervous, whatever for?”, and why was his heart speeding up?

Tenderly taking his hand, she placed the box in his hand but held the top closed with hers so he couldn’t open it yet. “Do you remember earlier when you wanted to pretend we had a long future ahead of us?”

“Of course.” He furrowed his brow, wondering if he had upset her in some way. It had been a momentary weakness. There were just some moments when the inevitably short run of their relationship tugged at him, hurt him in his soul.

She shifted a little at his feet and took a deep breath, “I’ve had this for a few weeks but I’ve been nervous about giving it to you. We both agreed no long term plans for the future.” She let go of his hand and watched him anxiously.

He watched her for a few moments. She really was nervous, the sweat had beaded back up on her forehead and she was biting her lip. Was it inappropriate to find her vulnerability so alluring? 

Tearing his eyes away from her he stared at the box in his hand. It was small but looked ornate. He had no idea what was inside of it but could guess that whatever it was had been expensive. 

He was feeling nervous now and licked his bottom lip. They wouldn’t quarrel, he had given up trying to stop her from buying him gifts whenever the mood struck her. But the contents of the box obviously held some important significance to her.

Alright, he’d put it off long enough. Time to face whatever was in the box that had his fearless lioness tied in such knots. With a long exhale he pulled open the box. Nestled against the sapphire velvet lining the box he found two gold earrings inside. 

They gleamed and glittered in the guttering fire light. There was something inscribed in the gold, some kind of lettering. Carefully, he picked one up to read it. Inscribed was the word _**Fidelitas**_ , he looked down at her, still at his knee, holding her breath now. “Fidelity? I don’t understand.”

She swallowed thickly, watching him with nervous eyes, like a rabbit ready to bolt at the slightest movement. “What if I said I didn’t want to _pretend_ to be your wife?”

Anders was stunned; he hadn’t seen this one coming. “I…what?” He nearly choked on his words.

She took his free hand slipping her fingers between his and kissed his hand softly. “Marry me, Anders.”

His heart was racing so fast he was sure it would burst. He was beyond shocked. What was he supposed to say? He could barely breathe let alone form a cogent thought. And because he had no idea what to say he stared at her awkwardly for a few moments. And when he still had no idea what to say the moments ticked by into minutes.

Sekhmet let go of his hand with a barely audible sigh and stood up. She gave him a small smile, so strained he thought her face might crack. “It’s alright. I’m sorry; it was a silly idea anyways.” 

She walked over to the bed, “Did you want your book? I think I’m going to turn in, I’m a bit tired and I need to get up early tomorrow.”

His tongue finally loosed itself and a few words stumbled from his numb lips. “Sekhmet, wait.”

She shook her head, “I meant it, I understand, really.” She grabbed the book he had started reading the evening before and walked back to hand it to him. “Now, promise me you’re not going to go back to work on that manifesto tonight.”

He held onto her wrist when she handed him the book. “Can we talk about this, please?” His brain was still mostly not functioning, his thoughts lost somewhere in the ether, but this was wrong. He needed to fix this, she was shutting down he could see it.

Sekhmet leaned down and kissed him, her fingers snaking into his damp hair and pulling lightly. Anders parted his lips and let her kiss him, anything to stop her from shutting down, shutting him out. 

His heart was still beating an odd staccato in his chest and his mind was at war with itself. So when her other hand moved to his lap pushing aside his dressing gown and caressed him he jerked in surprise.

Sekhmet stepped back again and gave him a little self deprecating smile. “Good night, Anders.” She walked around the room putting out the lamps only leaving the one on the wall above him lit. 

Anders watched her, stricken, how many times was he going to hurt her like this? How many times would he fail to be the man she deserved? He didn’t know what to say to her, what to do to fix this. He looked at the earring still clasped loosely in his hand then down at the other nestled in the box.

Why would she want to marry him? Not to mention there was no clergy person in all of Thedas that would perform a wedding for an apostate. He stood and doused the lamp over his head, he wouldn’t be reading tonight. 

In the dark he sat and let himself fantasize, a luxury he rarely allowed himself but something he’d been doing more and more the last week while Sekhmet stayed at the estate with him and they both reveled in the new sense of peace he’d somehow achieved. He pictured the two of them years down the road, married and happy, a house of their own somewhere in the countryside, a small garden, with Tyr and a couple cats. It felt good to enjoy the fantasy for a time, but he knew that would never, could never be their life.

Anders’ life was inching him inexorably towards war or at the very least an early death and Sekhmet had told him years ago that being tied down, being stuck in one place felt like death to her. _“She also said she never wanted to get married.”_ A small voice chimed in response.

Anders stood and found some clothes pulling them on as quickly and quietly as possible. He slipped from their room and down the stairs, crossing to the foyer where he sat down on the bench to pull his boots on. Leaving his staff he disappeared into the night.

********

Sekhmet rolled over onto her stomach when she heard the front door close. She allowed herself a few moments for tears before she got up as well. She was a foolish girl, always had been, constantly reaching for more than she had. She was greedy and now she would pay the price. She fully expected Anders would never return after her foolish proposal.

She needed to get out of this room, out of the estate. She dressed quickly, and jogged down the stairs. In the foyer she pulled on her boots and strapped her daggers to her back. Then she too took off into the night.

The cool night air felt good, but she was hurting. A few years ago she would have just buried this pain and ignored it. She’d been far more self sufficient years ago. Right now there was only one person she wanted to see.

She jogged up the steps of the Chantry and pounded on the large front doors. It was a few moments before she heard a voice from the other side. “Can I help you?”

“It’s Hawke; I need to speak with Sebastian.” Foolish? Maybe, but it didn’t change the fact that she wanted to see him.

The large door swung open, “Of course Champion, you know where to find him.”

She started at being called Champion. She only had the vaguest recollection of Meredith naming her such. And, having stayed home as Anders wished it was the first time she’d heard it said aloud. It was odd, like the brother was speaking about someone else. 

Sekhmet nodded and headed for Sebastian’s small room. It was the first time that she had come to him after the Chantry had closed for the night. But he had told her that if she ever had need of him the Chantry would let her in. She knocked on his door and waited, her heart racing and chest aching, for him to open the door.

The door opened almost immediately, Sebastian was clearly surprised to see her, then he saw her face. “Come in, come in, what happened?”

She moved into the room and sat on the only chair in the room. The one Sebastian had obviously been seated at only moments before. He was still dressed in a pair of soft trousers and a tunic. Once she was settled, he sat on the bed and waited for her to speak.

“I gave them to him tonight.” She said quietly. Surprised she hadn’t started crying again.

A soft sigh from Sebastian before he spoke, “I see, I take it didn’t go as you had hoped.”

Sekhmet laughed bitterly, “He looked horrified. I couldn’t just be happy with what I had, I had to go and make a mess of it. I should have listened to you.”

Sebastian shook his head, “No, if you hadn’t asked him you would always wonder. Where is he now?”

He’d left her, and why wouldn’t he? Every rule they made she broke. “I have no idea, he left.”

Sebastian scowled, “Why did he leave?”

Couldn’t he figure it out? “Because I’m an idiot.” She was that and worse, greedy, needy, and other less polite things she could think of. She’d been ready to seduce Anders, to use her body to make him stay. She’d seen his need to flee as soon as she’d asked him to marry her. He hadn’t even wanted her touch though. All that passion he’d always showered her with turned off like he had a switch to toggle it on and off.

Sebastian ran his hand back through his hair, a familiar gesture. He was frustrated and struggling not to be short with her. “What exactly did he say?”

Before Sekhmet could respond there was a light knock at the door. “Sebastian, is there a problem?”

Crossing the room Sebastian opened the door; Sekhmet was surprised to see Elthina standing there. “No problem your grace, Serrah Hawke needed a friend is all.”

She peered into the room looking at Sekhmet before nodding in greeting and turning back to Sebastian. “Perhaps there is some place the two of you could speak where it would not disturb your brothers and sisters.”

Sebastian nodded, “Of course your grace.”

Elthina swept back down the hallway and Sebastian grabbed his boots sitting back on the bed to pull them on. “I’ll walk you home.”

They walked back to Hawke’s estate, Sebastian strolling slowly with her. She needed to gather her strength before she went back into the estate. As she opened the door she realized without Anders she’d leave it. There were too many memories inside of it. 

She’d let the servants stay there and pay for its upkeep but she would move somewhere else herself. Or, more likely, she’d take off and head back out on the road. Without Anders there was nothing to tie her to Kirkwall. She could fight the Templar’s tyranny anywhere, anywhere but here. 

Slowly, she crossed the threshold and Sebastian followed her inside. She got them both some wine then they sat in the library on the small sofa. Comfortable and still feeling the pressing need to talk, to pour out the pain of her heart to someone, Sekhmet started telling Sebastian exactly what had happened with the earrings. 

Sebastian made small noises of encouragement to keep her talking but otherwise he just listened. Sebastian was so good at listening. And like the brother she’d always dreamed of having he wanted to help her if he could, even it was just as a shoulder to cry on.

********

“What do you mean you couldn’t think of anything to say? You didn’t say anything, then left her there alone? Maker, Blondie sometimes I swear you’re trying to get her to kill you.” Varric pushed his chair back and looked at Isabela shaking his head. “Can you believe him?”

“Oh, come off it Varric. The man did her a favor.” Isabela poured another round of shots from the whiskey bottle in front of her. 

“A favor?” Varric snorted. “I’m not sure she’s going to see it like that.”

“She said it was alright.” Anders was starting to feel like coming here was a mistake.

Varric sighed, “And you believed her?”

Anders shifted in his chair, it was a fair question but he still didn’t like it. “Not exactly, but…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what are you doing here instead of at home apologizing for being such an ass? You should be begging for her forgiveness. I don’t think you have any idea how much that girl loves you.” Anders couldn’t remember seeing Varric this upset before, with the exception of in the Deep Roads.

This day had fallen apart into a pile of shit. This whole week with Sekhmet had been amazing. He’d never felt so relaxed and happy with her before. It had been incredible, and he couldn’t lie, it had fueled his own fantasies about a real life with her. But it wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t. And while he’d been fantasizing he’d never dreamed that Sekhmet’s heart had led her to the same places and beyond.

Feeling miserable Anders put his head down on the table, “I do know, but I can’t marry her.”

“If you don’t love her Blondie you owe it to her to tell her.” Varric was twirling his empty shot glass in front of him, making him look relaxed and nonchalant. 

“What?” Anders’ head jerked up a look of incredulity stamped on his face. “I do love her.” How on Thedas could Varric of all people question how he felt about Sekhmet?

“So you love her but not enough to marry her? You think something better is going to come along?” Varric was watching Anders closely. He could see the muscle ticking in Varric’s jaw periodically. If Varric had been a normal dwarf, with a beard, Anders would have likely missed the dwarf’s anger completely.

Anders shook his head, irritation creeping into his voice. “No, I’d marry her in a heartbeat if I could. But I’m an abomination in case you forgot Varric.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Varric snarled back, his illusion of calm shattering abruptly.

Isabela, who had been mostly quiet since he arrived, studying the grain of the table instead of engaging the two men suddenly looked up, “Oh Anders, you fool.”

The soft touch of sadness in her voice grabbed Anders’ attention. “What?”

She sighed, “Answer Varric’s question.”

“No one would marry us. There’s no sense in saying yes just so she can be disappointed when no one will perform it. I’d likely be arrested and hanged if we even tried to get married. And I don’t even want to think about what they would do to her.” The image of her dangling beside him on the gallows nearly made him gag. Trying to get married would lead to nothing but pain and death for them both. Didn’t the two of them understand that?

Isabela stood up and yanked Anders out of his chair. “I’ll likely regret this once I sober up, but for now I want you to get out of here and go home; go back to your lady love.” She shoved him towards the door to Varric’s suite.

Anders glared at her, surprised by her sudden burst of strength and ire. “Hey, no need to shove.”

Isabela pushed him again, growling at him. “You’re a Maker forsaken idiot, Anders.” She grabbed his coat and started dragging him along behind her as she headed for the door to the Hanged Man, leaving a slack jawed Varric to watch from his suite. She yanked open the door when they reached it and shoved Anders out into the night. “Sebastian was going to do it for her, you ass.” With that she slammed the door.

Anders stood staring at the door in mute shock. He had known that Sebastian and Sekhmet were close but he never would have imagined in a million years that Sebastian would do something like that for her. It was no secret that Sebastian and Anders didn’t exactly get along and Anders knew that Sebastian didn’t approve of Sekhmet’s relationship with him.

Anders walked slowly back to the estate. The night air was cool on his skin and helped to sober him a bit. Justice didn’t normally let Anders drink enough to get drunk but he had been peculiarly silent all night. When he reached the estate sometime later he still had no idea what to say to Sekhmet.

He decided the best course of action was just to take Varric’s advice. He would beg for her forgiveness and hope she didn’t kick him out all together. He opened the door making Tyr look up but seeing it was just Anders he put his head back down on his paws. Anders pulled off his boots as quickly and quietly as he could.

He climbed the stairs and eased open the door to the room he shared with Sekhmet and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark before trying to cross to the bed. As his eyes adjusted he realized the bed was empty. He looked around the room to see if maybe she had curled up in a chair and fallen asleep as she sometimes did, but she wasn’t in the room at all.

Anders furrowed his brow wondering where she had gone too. Quietly, he moved across the mezzanine easing open the door to Leandra’s room. Sometimes when Sekhmet was upset she went into Leandra’s room to calm down, but that room was empty as well. Anders walked back down the stairs; there was only one more place he could think of to look. 

As he crossed the threshold into the library his breath caught in his throat. Sebastian was sitting on the small sofa with Sekhmet curled up against him. The Chantry prince had his arm draped around Sekhmet’s shoulders. Both of them were sleeping, Sebastian looking uncomfortable with his head tipped backwards with nothing to rest it on.

Anders felt bile rise in his throat and pushed it down. Justice was back with a vengeance clawing at him. The spirit wanted to rip Sebastian’s throat out, Anders was having a hard time disagreeing with that. The bastard was touching _his_ little lioness, was sleeping with her. He would deserve whatever they did to him. 

Anders backed out of the room and turned around to lean against the wall trying to get his emotions back under control. It was innocent, he was sure it was, Sebastian was like a brother to her. She had told Anders as much on numerous occasions and he had seen it for himself, or at least had convinced himself he had. 

But the truth of the matter was that Sebastian was not her brother. And Chantry brother or not he was a good looking man with an accent that made even Anders weak in the knees on occasion.

_“It’s nothing. He was just comforting her and they fell asleep. I need to calm down.”_ But he couldn’t get the image of her curled up against Sebastian out of his mind. He wanted to wake them up but wasn’t sure he could keep complete control of himself and Justice if he went back in there. 

Instead, he climbed the stairs and crawled into his bed, knowing he wouldn’t sleep, but hoping some distance between him and the library would save everyone some unnecessary violence. He pulled out his journal and grabbed a piece of charcoal from the small drawer and started to draw.


	55. Lion Tamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all my readers. Hope you enjoy...

He heard Sekhmet walking towards the bedroom door and quickly shoved the sketch into the drawer with the dozens of others. With the sketches put away he noticed the sun streaming in through the window. Dawn had come and gone without him noticing. The door opened and she froze, clearly surprised to see him. 

“Anders, I didn’t expect you to be back.” Her voice was quiet and she avoided his eyes. Had something happened between her and Sebastian?

“Where did you expect me to be?” His fear of losing her to Sebastian made his voice sharp.

“Out.” Such a simple word but edged with pain. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing to go to her, to comfort her. “Out where?”

Her gaze flickered to his face briefly then away even more quickly. “With whoever.”

That gave him pause, not a place but a person. “Like who?”

Her eyes glittered, tears threatening. “Whoever it is that you really want to be with.”

Anders’ breath left him in a rush. Was that what she thought, that he wanted someone else? How could she possibly think that? His mind couldn’t even fully wrap around the words let alone their meaning.

Weren’t the two of them perfectly paired? He was so terrified to lose her to another man in her life because he knew he didn’t deserve her. While he was being jealous she was suffering through doubt of her own. Doubt he had placed in her head through years of rejection. And now he’d done it again rejected her, even though he hadn’t meant it that way. 

Sekhmet turned away from him and walked to the wooden wardrobe standing on her side of the bed. She pulled it open, digging in it for something. “I know you’re staying here because it’s safe, but you don’t need to bed me to stay here Anders. You’re always welcome. Bodahn and Orana can help you set up any of the guest rooms you prefer.” 

She closed the wardrobe, fresh clothes in hand, and nearly ran across the room to the bathing chamber. “I have a few things to do this morning so I’ll be out of your hair.” The door closed behind her, the lock immediately engaged.

He was still standing in the same spot, next to the bed his mind running those few phrases over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of them. _Whoever you really want to be with. You don’t need to bed me to stay here. Guest room._

Anders was going to be sick. His head pounded with a sudden headache and his heart was trying to rip itself from his chest. “No,” softly, a desperate whisper, nothing else driving the single syllable other than a refusal of the situation unfolding.

Not like this, he wasn’t going to lose her like this. Not over his stupid fears and stupid mouth. Absolutely not, he had beaten himself up for years for wanting her. He had punished himself and hurt her for those years holding himself away from her. And now that he finally had her, now that they finally had each other, he refused to lose her like this. 

“No,” this time with more conviction, more volume. Feet unfrozen, heart screaming for him to do something he shifted into motion. “Unlock the door, Sekhmet.” He commanded, his voice carrying a strength he didn’t feel. 

Her voice, muffled and strained wafted from inside. “Just wait, I’m almost done then you can come get washed up.”

“Open the door now.” He wasn’t going to let this fall apart, wasn’t about to sit by and hope things got better. Not this time. This time he would fight, for her, for them. They fought for so many things, for so many people. Now it was time to fight for them. He needed to convince her that she was the only one he wanted, the only one he’d ever truly wanted. 

“Just be patient.”

Anders had no patience, only the gnawing, twisting feeling in his gut and the tightness in his chest making it difficult to breathe. He put his palm over the lock and loosed a pulse of magic to wind its way through the tumblers. The magic worked its charm and the tumblers fell back with a click. Twisting the handle he shoved the door open. And there she was, standing in trousers and a breast band looking at him utterly surprised.

“When did you learn that?” Her voice was tremulous, her eyes red rimmed and her lashes wet. A wet smear across her skin made it clear she had been dashing the tears away as they fell.

“Doesn’t matter.” He crossed to her and settled his hands on her waist, not squeezing, but he needed the contact, needed her to focus on him, to really hear him. “You listen to me very carefully Sekhmet Hawke. There is no one else. No one, do you understand me? I love you, and I want to be with you, just you, always.”

She was looking up at him, her crystalline blue eyes searching his face but she didn’t speak.

“Do you understand?” He prompted again.

She looked away from him, dropping her head and speaking quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Anders. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Do what? I’m just telling you the truth. I love you.” His heart felt as if it would leap from his chest. He was losing her and his wretched heart would rather be with her than to dwell in the shell of his body.

She jerked away from him. Out of his grasp and was standing next to the door holding her tunic in her hand before he had even completely registered the movement. Dammit, she was so bloody fast. 

She gave him a sad smile, “I should have left you alone years ago. I’m so sorry Anders.” And then she was gone. 

It took him a moment to grasp, to believe that she’d actually left. She’d just left him. Left him standing there, his heart breaking, in the center of the bathing chamber.

Did she think he would give up, that he would just let her disappear out of his life again? Determined to get her back, to fix this nightmare he ran across the bathing chamber and out of the room. But, before he reached the bottom of the steps the front door was already slamming shut.

He glanced down at himself quickly, not exactly standard Hightown attire but not exactly indecent. He ran after her out into the Hightown morning in just his linen trousers. Let the gossips tongues’ wag over the half dressed man, tattooed and scarred, running after the woman he loved. He hoped they all got a good damned look. 

He sprinted across the square headed for the Chantry, because where else would she go? 

As he reached for the door he heard a muffled voice from beside him. “Messere, I’m afraid you can’t go in the Chantry dressed that way.”

It was a Templar; those bucket helmets made them all sound the same. He jerked open the Chantry door, “Then arrest me,” running inside even as he spoke the words.

The Grand Cleric was standing near a staircase with her brows furrowed. And when she spotted him she outright scowled. Anders could care less what the woman thought of him. 

“Did she go up or down?” He asked, trying not to snap at the woman.

She gestured downward. Anders ran down the stairs and only just heard the Grand Cleric’s voice as she called out behind him. “Second to last door on the left.”

As he reached the bottom of the stairs he was grateful for her information. There was a long hall with many doors on each side. Another dormitory perhaps? It didn’t matter, he didn’t care. He just wanted Sekhmet.

When he found the door he didn’t bother to knock, letting magic test for a lock as he grabbed the door and pushed it open. Sekhmet was kneeling on the floor gripping a wide eyed Sebastian’s forearms, head bowed, sobbing and trying to talk. Sebastian was dressed the same as Anders but was dripping wet, apparently Sekhmet had pulled him from a bath. The idea that Sekhmet had likely seen Sebastian naked barely registered. He was just relieved to have found her.

“Sekhmet, I can’t understand you. You need to calm down.” Sebastian looked up to catch Anders standing in the doorway just as he finished speaking to Sekhmet. 

She didn’t seem to have noticed Anders coming in and was still sobbing, her words so garbled even Anders couldn’t understand her. Sebastian gave Anders a helpless look, clearly unsure what to do. 

“Please, give me a few minutes to speak to her.” Anders thought he saw relief in Sebastian’s eyes.

Sekhmet jerked off the floor and backed away from Anders. “Don’t leave me alone with him Sebastian, please.” Her breathing was ragged as she watched Anders with wary eyes.

“I just want to talk.” Leaving last night had clearly been a bigger mistake than he’d realized. The biggest damned mistake he’d ever made. He only hoped she would give him the chance to make it up to her.

Sebastian looked between them then sighed softly. “Obviously, it’s important. I’ll be right outside if you need me and Anders will leave the door unlocked, won’t you?”

Anders nodded his head, eyes still on Sekhmet. He wasn’t about to look away from her for even a moment. She’d likely disappear again if he did. Sebastian walked quickly out of the room not bothering to look at Sekhmet. The man clearly knew her well enough to know she looked utterly betrayed as she stared after him. 

But, her attention was quickly back on Anders. So wary and he could see she was hurting even without the tears drying on her cheeks. How many tears had she cried because of him over the years? How many since the night she’d sworn to give him no more?

Slowly, Anders leaned back against the wall opposite her, trying to give her space, trying to stop her from running again. “Why did you take off like that?”

“Because I can’t be around you right now.” The hurt was fading, slowly being replaced by anger.

“Why? I just want to talk to you.” Did she think he was going to do something to her?

She looked away from him, studying the wall somewhere off to his left. “There’s nothing to talk about. I already told you that you could stay at the estate. And I’ll keep funding the Underground Mage movement.”

Anders scowled; annoyed that she would think that mattered to him right now. “I don’t give a shit about that.”

Sekhmet covered her face and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor the anger gone before it had completely surfaced. When she dropped her hands his stomach knotted. He had seen that look on her face once before. 

On the night she and another Darktown resident had awoken him to heal her. She’d looked so fragile that night; it had stirred something deep inside him. He’d wanted to protect her, to comfort her. And it stirred the same feelings now.

“Then what do you want?” She asked tiredly.

“You.” No simpler way to put it. She was all he wanted.

She snorted and didn’t bother to look at him.

He crossed the room and knelt in front of her; lightly he curled his finger under her jaw and lifted her head so she would look at him. This too was a memory of that night, making her look at him, making her really see him. And so, as she watched, as she got a good look into his eyes he poured himself out for her. Revealed himself to her as honestly as he knew how.

“I can count on one hand all the people I have loved in my life. My mother who died; my brother Alistair and his wife Sareyna both who left the Wardens to protect their son; and Zevran, their lover, who went with them. And you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose you too.

“I responded poorly last night, obviously. Your…” the word was strangely difficult for him to say, “proposal took me completely by surprise. You’ve always made it sound like being married wasn’t something you particularly wanted, that the idea of being domestic made you sick.”

Sekhmet wasn’t speaking. She just watched him, her face blank.

Anders was getting frustrated, not sure of what to say or if he was getting through to her at all. “For fuck’s sake Sekhmet, earlier you’d made it sound as if even pretending to be my wife was an unpleasant prospect. In light of all that how was I supposed to react?”

She kept watching him, still not responding or reacting.

So, he kept talking, “I had dozens of thoughts running through my head. I was afraid you were only asking because you thought marriage was what I wanted. Or even worse, because you thought I wouldn’t stay unless we were married. I wondered why you would possibly want to marry me after everything you had said in the past.” He took a deep breath and got to the heart of the matter. “I didn’t want you to get hurt if I agreed but marriage wasn’t what you really wanted. And even more than that, I didn’t want you to get hurt when you realized no one would perform a marriage between us. You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time to sort things out.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before opening them again. “You looked horrified when I asked. And nothing but silence, for minutes and minutes, not even an ‘it’s a lot to think about give me a while’. Would that have been so hard? And then,” she pulled her jaw out of his grasp. She was building up a head of steam again, “then when I touched you, you recoiled as if disgusted. I got the message then, loud and clear.” She pushed herself up to her feet.

He looked up at her, “Your hands were bloody cold, and honestly, I wasn’t expecting it. I was still reeling from the proposal.” It sounded like an excuse, but it wasn’t meant to be. It was the truth. How could he make her understand?

She sighed heavily, “I don’t want to do this.”

He stood up, looking at her. “We’re just talking.”

“No, you’re trying to convince me to keep everything the way it has been. Does your other lover not get free to see you often enough, you need a back-up? It’s got to be convenient having a live in whore at your beck and call. One that pays you even, must be real nice.” She was snarling at him, hurt and angry and lashing out to protect herself. She was very like a caged beast and he best be careful.

He clenched his hands; he hated it when she degraded herself like that. She used the word whore so casually when referring to herself, and she’d done it on numerous occasions. He hated it every time and admonished her each time. He’d thought they were finally past it. Yet, here she was doing it again.

And what she was suggesting, him having another lover, was ridiculous. He was only ever in four places: with her, with Varric, at the clinic or helping the Underground. He barely had time to sleep, let alone another lover. People weren’t always rational though, especially Sekhmet when she was hurt. 

He stepped closer to her, almost touching, his fingers aching to touch her hair, or the soft skin of her cheek. His beautiful lioness, his strong and amazing Sekhmet, so full of doubt, “Is it that hard to believe I love you?”

She turned her head aside, closing her eyes. “Yes,” it was so soft it was nearly a whisper.

It felt like she’d sucked all the air out of the room. “Why? Why is that so hard to believe?” Had she felt this way the whole time they had been together? Did she truly doubt his feelings for her?

She switched tact on him again, opening her eyes only to glare at him accusingly. “Why did you pick me instead of Bethany, was it because I told you to leave her alone?”

“Wait, what?” He was still caught on her doubting his feelings to begin with. What the Void did Bethany have to do with any of this?

“Bethany, why me instead of her?” Her stare was intense as was her voice.

And how was he supposed to answer that? Did anyone really know why they fell in love with one person and not another? “Because you’re beautiful and smart, you make me laugh and you’re not afraid of me. Because I fell in love with you.”

Her eyes narrowed, “That doesn’t really answer the question.”

She could be so frustrating. He would never come up with an answer that would truly satisfy her, not when she was like this. He had to try though, had to try to reach her. “What is it that you want from me, Sekhmet? I don’t know why I fell in love with you instead of any of the other people I’ve met in my life. I’d given up on ever falling in love before I’d even met you.”

He needed to stop being so defensive. He tried to relax, to just be honest with her. “And I tried not to fall in love with you, I was so afraid of what Justice might do. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t even keep myself away from you.”

And the words just kept flowing from him once he started. “I couldn’t sleep I wanted to be with you so badly. I’d lie awake in my cot or my bedroll wondering what it would be like to hold you in my arms, to whisper in your ear how much I loved you. It was like fucking torture watching you flirt with other men.

“I even hated watching you flirt with Izzy. I was so damned jealous of everyone else who knew you. Because they could all tell you how they felt about you. Because they could be near you without being afraid of hurting you.”

Before he knew it he was confessing things to her he never intended. “When I thought you and Fenris had become lovers I lost my mind. I ripped the clinic apart, howled like an injured beast because my heart was breaking. I would have let that beast rip it from me gladly. 

“I hated him, oh you cannot imagine the hatred I felt for him. That he, a man who hated mages, a man who stood against everything I stood for, should get to love you, should get to be with you while I had to stand aside, longing and suffering in silence.” He shuddered as he remembered, as he confessed. “I wanted to kill him because I didn’t want him touching you, but,” his breath hitched, he hadn’t expected it to be this hard. “…but if he made you happy…and I loved you…really loved you…how could I take him from you?”

“I was mad from loving you and not being able to have you.” His heart ached as he told her the truth, all of it. Telling her the bits he had a hard time admitting even to himself. “If you cast me out, if you send me away and tell me you don’t love me I’m not sure I’d survive it. My body might live, but it would be Justice, not me. I’d have no will to stay in this body if I can’t have you, can’t be with you.” 

His fingers touched her face, needing to touch her, to form some sort of a connection with her. “I am a mad man, as much because I love you beyond all reason as because of Justice. All I know is that living without you is no longer an option, perhaps it never was.” He stopped, strung out and hollow as if those words had been the only things left inside of him.

She looked up at him finally, her eyes filled with some emotion he wasn’t sure he had seen there before. “You really do love me, don’t you?”

He sighed with relief, he’d broken through that wall, had reached her at last. “Maker, yes.” He bent down, one hand cupping the back of her neck, his other arm twining around her waist and kissed her, thoroughly. If he had been willing to break the kiss he would have crowed with delight when her arms reached around his neck. But he was more than happy kissing her.

Several minutes later, amidst rapid heartbeats and panting breaths, came a knock at the door. Followed by a second before the door opened and someone cleared their throat loudly behind them. “Now that you’ve kissed and made up do you think it might be possible to get my room back? I would like to finish getting dressed; I’m getting odd looks in the hall.”

Anders reluctantly broke the kiss, “Still interested in getting married, love?”

She nodded then smiled a little hesitantly at Sebastian.

He gave a dramatic sigh, “Fine, fine, when?”

Anders answered quickly, “As soon as you can.”

Sebastian rubbed his stubble, “How about in two days?”

“Can we still go to that little grove you were talking about?” Sekhmet ventured.

He nodded, “We’ll just leave in the morning. I’ll come by later when Anders and I are both dressed and we can talk about it then. Alright?”

Sekhmet nodded, “Thank you, Sebastian.”

He sighed tiredly but smiled at her, “Anything for you sister, you know that.”

She beamed and the two of them left Sebastian to get dressed. Anders almost didn’t see all the people gawking and staring at his tattoos and his state of undress on the way back to the estate and decided to pretend they weren’t staring at his scars. He couldn’t stop smiling, he’s was getting married, was going to be a married man, a husband, him!

********

Sekhmet was anxious, her heart racing her palms sweaty, the whole kit and caboodle. It made no sense. She’d wanted this, had practically forced it on Anders. So, why was she suddenly ready to bolt?

She’d thought about this for a long time. She’d sworn she would never marry unless it was like the love her parents had shared. And the relationship she shared with Anders felt like that, whole, complete and all consuming. But the fiasco of a few nights ago made her wonder.

She had been so sure that he was leaving her, that she would never see him again. Each night since she had lain awake worrying that perhaps this thing with Anders, whatever it was, wasn’t as special and unique as she had originally thought.

She had nagging doubts, not about herself. She wanted this, wanted him. And she knew in her soul she would never want another, not like she did Anders. But, what about him?

Was this truly what he wanted or was he just humoring her? Was he desperate enough for her protection that he would marry her just to stay in her good graces? There were so many doubts eating away at her happiness.

She’d been convinced that day in the Chantry, had no doubts that he truly loved her. But that surety had started to wither away as soon as darkness had fallen. Why was it so easy to doubt everything while the moon ruled the sky?

Anders had immediately sensed the change in her. He had spent each day since her ill fated proposal fawning over her. And he’d tried to still the doubts he could clearly sense in her. Somehow, it didn’t seem to help.

Every time he touched her, every time he kissed her, every time he made love to her she wondered if it was convenience or if he really wanted to be with her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying, again, to calm herself. She was going to make herself sick at this rate.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door, “Sekhmet, I’m coming in.”

With anxiety twisting her into knots she murmured softly back, “Okay.”

Slowly, the door opened and Anders came in. He, even more so than usual, looked incredible. His hair was pulled back into a tight braid, his boots were polished. She really should buy him a new pair, these were looking a little worn, even polished as they were.

She sighed, even in the midst of this she was still thinking about what she could do for him. She liked taking care of him. And he looked mighty fine clad head to foot in black velvet.

When he saw her there, sitting on the bed, still clad in just her breast band and smalls he smiled softly. “You’re still not sure you want to do this, are you?”

“I’m not sure you want to.” It was the first time she had admitted it aloud.

Anders sighed and lowered his head as if in shame. Slowly, he crossed the room and sat beside her. Would he confess now, tell her that he didn’t really want to marry her? It would almost be a relief. She hadn’t meant to force his hand, hadn’t meant to make him feel that he had to marry her or leave.

He slipped his fingers between hers, squeezing her hand lightly. “I should have just said yes.” He voice was quiet and mournful. “I curse myself for a fool everyday that I didn’t just say yes.”

“You don’t need to marry me, Anders.” She rushed now, wanting him to know she wouldn’t cast him out. “You’re always welcome here.” She turned and touched his arm with her free hand. “I’ll protect you, always. You don’t need to do this.”

He closed his eyes and a single tear slid down his cheek, “I shall always fall short, won’t I?” Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked at her, “I’ll never be the man you deserve, never be the man who does or says the right thing.”

He slid off the bed and knelt at her feet, still holding her hand. “If I was the sort of man you deserved I would walk out that door right now. I would leave because I hurt you, again. I would leave and let you find a man worthy of you.”

He reached for her other hand. “But the truth is, I’m not that good of a man. Instead, I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to stay and beg you to marry me. I’m going to stay and hope that there’s some chance that you still want to marry me, that you don’t regret asking me.” He smiled a little, a bit lopsided and completely unsure, “I’m going to stay and hope that asking you to be my wife now, instead of when I should have, might still be enough.”

His smile became a little more sure as if he sensed he was gaining some ground. And then he was looking away shyly. Anders shy? She hadn’t thought that was possible. “I’ve married you dozens of times, Sekhmet, over and over for years in my mind.” 

He stood suddenly and moved to his side of the bed. “Come here.”

She stood and followed him curious as to what he was doing. 

He gestured to his bedside table, “Go on, open it.”

“Anders, your sketches are in there. You don’t like people looking at them.” She appreciated him trying to show her he cared about her and trusted her but it wasn’t necessary. She knew he did, she never questioned that. 

“Please, open it.” He stood back, hands clasped behind him and he looked nervous.

She bent and pulled open the drawer where he kept his sketches. They were face down. She looked up at him waiting for confirmation that she should take them out. When he nodded again she scooped them all up. 

She was surprised there were so many. He must have been making them for years. Holding them carefully she turned them over and nearly dropped them. The top one showed her curled up sleeping on the sofa in the library as she had the other night, only instead of curled up against Sebastian she was curled up against Anders. 

Anders gave her a weak smile, “I’m a jealous bastard. Seeing you with him…I…this was better. Look at the rest.”

She set the first one down and looked at the next. It was of her again, done like a portrait. And the next was of her as well, laughing. She laid the sketches on the bed as she looked through them. There were so many, and she was in each of them; her playing with Tyr, her laughing with her mother, her and Bethany smiling. And yes, there were several of her in wedding dresses. There were at least a half dozen of her naked, and then there were dozens of her sleeping.

“I…when I first started drawing you I did it while you slept so you wouldn’t know. I spend so much time awake at night and I enjoyed drawing you.” Anders shrugged, “I’ve been obsessed with you pretty much from the moment we met.” He chuckled nervously, “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. I just realized how creepy these all are. I was trying to convince you to marry me, but these just seem a little much now, don’t they?”

Sekhmet was speechless. If she ever needed proof that there was no one else in Anders’ life it was here in front of her. She’d seen him sketching and shoving his drawings into drawers for years. And here they all were, and she was the subject of every single one. As she stared at them she just couldn’t believe it. 

She had never considered herself particularly attractive. In fact, she’d always thought she was rather strange looking. Yet, here she was the subject of incredible drawing after incredible drawing. It was very surreal.

“Uh, Sekhmet?” Her nervous groom to be prompted her for a reaction.

“They’re all of me?” She asked, still having a hard time believing it.

“Well, there are a few others. I actually had them framed so I could give them to you as gifts today. I don’t really have anything else to give you.” 

He took her hand, looking into her eyes and she saw such a raw ache in him. He touched her face gently and ran his other thumb over the back of her hand. “In my best dreams, my fondest fantasies I always call you wife. If…if you can’t do it today, please, tell me it’s still a possibility for the future. That someday, when I can prove to you how much I love you, how much I want this you’ll still be willing to marry me.”

“I…” but there was nothing else. Words had so completely left her. This was her Anders, her beloved Anders laying his soul bare before her in parchment.

She watched him as he gazed at her, the questions lingering in the air between them. She could see it now; see his fragile heart and how much it had cost him to say those things to her, to show her his art. It couldn’t have been easy to open himself, to bear his soul like that, to let her see everything. Anders hid most of the time. While Sekhmet was a mason who erected walls between herself and others Anders was a conjurer, using misdirection to protect himself.

Today she’d marry her darling mage. Sekhmet would have her prince, bastard or not. And together they would make their own kind of happily ever after. Because, Anders was right, they couldn’t live without each other anymore. She stood up on her toes and kissed him fiercely. 

He laughed, happily, “Does that mean yes?” he asked between kisses.

She finally managed to speak. “Today, Anders, I want to marry you today.” 

He squeezed her tight and for a moment she thought he might cry again. “Thank you, Sekhmet.” He covered her face with kisses, “thank you.” Anders held her and kissed her for a few more minutes before he slowly broke off the kiss. “If it is to be today, might I suggest something a little more…concealing?”

Confused, she looked down then laughed herself. “Oh, Maker, I better get dressed.” She looked back up at him. “Is the cart ready?” 

He nodded, “Waiting only for you, my love. Would you like a hand?”

She shook her head. Was it strange she wanted what she was wearing to be a surprise? It might not be the overly ornate fashions the nobility was wearing, or even the special homemade gowns of the peasants. But, it was still her wedding dress and she wanted the first time he saw it to be when they were already at the grove.

“Very well,” he slipped from the room, pausing to blow her a kiss before closing the door. He looked good, happy and content. 

She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a dress from the back. It was plain and simple, but for the color. The color was a deep, rich violet. She had spent far too much on the dress when she’d first seen it and fallen in love with the color. Yet, she’d never worn it. 

Nothing seemed important enough or special enough to warrant it. Little did she know those years ago that she’d been buying her wedding dress. Her mother had laughed at her extravagance over a dress she would likely never wear. Sekhmet didn’t spend a lot of time in dresses period, let alone one as finely made as this one.

But, now she was glad. Her mother may have passed before she had been married, but she had both seen the dress and met the groom and approved of them both, amazingly enough. There were many who couldn’t say the same, so she counted herself lucky.

She laid the dress out on the bed as she went to the small desk in the corner. She’d gone to her mother’s room earlier, going through drawers she hadn’t dared touch since her mother’s death and found a pair of silk stockings. Sekhmet had no such finery, even the breast band and smalls she wore were very plain.

And the stockings might be too long for her, she’d improvise, but she still wanted to wear them. She wanted something worthy of the dress she would wear as she tied her life to Anders’. Once she had the stockings on she pulled on the dress and cinched it tightly at her waist. 

Luckily, she had a pair of fairly nice and serviceable shoes. With those secured to her feet she picked up the cloak still on the bed. She draped it about her shoulders and fastened it, checking to make sure the fabric from her dress was well concealed. Finally ready, she headed down the stairs to where her future husband was waiting for her.

He smiled when he saw her and held out his hand. “Going to make me wait to see?” 

She thought he looked pleased by the idea. “Yes. Have we heard word from Sebastian yet?”

Anders nodded, still smiling, “He sent word he’d left the city not long ago. He should be there waiting by time we arrive.”

Anders took her arm and led her out the front door. She stopped stunned when she saw the cart out front. Sandal and Bodahn as well as Orana were all seated up front. And all three were decked out in what looked to be their best finery.

“Anders, someone is going to know what we’re doing.” She whispered. Anders was so worried something would happen to her if people in the city knew she had married him that Sekhmet had agreed to keep it a secret, for now.

“They’re going to think that one of the nobles from the city went to visit someone in the country. Nothing more.” He led her around to the back of the cart, picking her up about the waist and setting her inside. 

Overtop of them Bodahn had constructed some kind of fabric cover, very closely mimicking a covered carriage. Apparently, the dwarf’s talents were myriad and vastly varied. Anders climbed in after her and sat next to her, his arm immediately wrapping about her shoulders.

The two of them talked about inconsequential things on the way to the grove, neither of them mentioning the wedding they were headed to. Was Anders’s heart beating as fast as hers? Was he as nervous as she was?

It seemed unreal after all the ups and downs the two of them had been through. Were they mad to marry? She didn’t care; she liked the idea of being his wife, even if they couldn’t tell anyone just yet.

They were at the grove sooner than she expected. Anders quickly clambered out and helped her down. As he set her down he paused, his face suddenly much more serious. “Last time to run, my love, in a few minutes you’ll be mine forever.”

“Good,” she whispered back. Right now, all that she wanted was to be his. “Go find Sebastian and make sure he’s ready. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He smiled, “Please, don’t keep me waiting. I’m not sure my heart could take it.”

She let out a nervous giggle, “Mine either, it feels like it’s going to burst.”

He kissed her forehead and then strode away quickly. At the pace he was moving it made her think he really was scared she was going to bolt. She wouldn’t keep him waiting long. 

Bodahn and Sandal were following Anders while Orana stopped beside her. “Do you need any assistance mistress?”

She shook her head, “Not today.” She slipped off her cloak and set it into the back of the cart. 

Awkwardly, Orana thrust a handful of flowers at her. “I picked these for you this morning, mistress. In Tevinter, the brides carry them and weave them into their hair. Bodahn didn’t think you’d like them in your hair, but I thought you might carry them?” She shuffled backwards away from Sekhmet as soon as she had taken the flowers. “I didn’t know what color your dress was so I only picked the white ones. I hope that’s okay.”

The wild flowers were very pretty and were very fragrant. “Yes, thank you Orana, they’re perfect.”

The elf beamed. “We should go soon. Master Anders was very agitated this morning. He paced back and forth and kept asking Bodahn for the time.”

Sekhmet smiled. She could picture him doing it, probably driving Bodahn a bit crazy. The dwarf was likely happy to leave to get the cart when the time came.

“Yes, I’m ready, let’s get going.” Together, they walked towards the far end of the grove where the others were waiting.

Anders grinned when he saw her, a laugh escaping him as he took in her dress. He found her obsession with purple amusing. When she reached him he held out his hand and twirled her once slowly.

“Isn’t she perfect?” He looked to Sebastian as he held her out at arm’s length, “Have you ever seen anything half so perfect in all your life, Sebastian?”

Sebastian too was grinning. “No, nothing at all.”

The ceremony was brief, Orana cried and Sandal clapped and Bodahn looked so proud. And Sebastian, well he didn’t exactly cry, but there were tears in his eyes by the end and he stole a quick kiss from her after Anders. He moved away quickly, perhaps worried about Anders’ wrath.

Anders touched her ear briefly, the one now adorned with a golden earring. He let his magic coil around it. “Does it hurt at all?”

She rolled her eyes, “No, you already healed it. Quit worrying.”

He dropped his hand. “Sorry, I’m just not terribly fond of the fact that I hurt you during our wedding.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve had you or someone else pierce it before today. I was just…preoccupied.” She really did feel bad. She knew how much it upset Anders to cause her pain, however brief or necessary. 

He’d nearly refused to put the earring through her ear, even after he’d iced it to numb the pain. Anders was essentially the most powerful man she’d ever met. Yet, he had a heart like spun glass.

And then there was Justice. She still had no idea how he was handling all of this. Would he be angry at the marriage, or did he simply not care as it didn’t really change anything? She would ask Anders…tomorrow.

For now, there were much more pleasant diversions to see to. And she planned on spending the rest of the day basking in Anders’ love. They were going to have a picnic before returning to the city when Sebastian pulled her and Anders aside.

He shifted nervously from foot to foot for a moment. “I still need to file something in the registry. I won’t put it in there until you’re ready, but I need to fill this out today.”

Sekhmet scowled, unsure what the problem was. “Alright, then fill it out.”

He looked to Anders then back to her, “I…uh…I’m not sure of Anders’ family name.”

Anders chuckled lightly, “And when I tell you it, you won’t believe me. Unless, of course you want the name the Circle gave me.”

Sebastian shook his head, “No, if you know your real family name that would be better.”

“Are you sure, Anders? I mean no one really knows, right? If you put it on the registry then…” Now she was the one worried about people knowing about their marriage.

“I’m sure. There’s no actual law against mages marrying. It’s just not done. So, I want this to be as legal and binding as possible.” He looked to Sebastian with a bit of a smirk. “My family name is Theirin. Would you like me to spell that for you?”

Sebastian gawped; there was no other word for it. His mouth hung open and he stared at Anders as if Anders had suddenly sprouted another head, or maybe wings.

Anders laughed and clapped him on the back, “Breathe Sebastian.”

Sebastian shook his head, like he was shaking away droplets of water. “Theirin…as in…”

“As in Maric Theirin, King of Ferelden? Yes, the very same.” He waited a beat and smirked again. “Seems you’re not the only lost prince in Kirkwall.” He shrugged a little, “Although, my father only ever acknowledged me in private.”

Sebastian suddenly snorted, “My father only wishes he could have gotten away with that.” He stared at Anders for a long time and surprisingly Anders let him. “You know, I can see the resemblance now. Why did I never notice before?”

A muscle tightened in Anders’ jaw for a moment, but just as quickly the tension was gone again. “Because, who equates mages with kings?”

Sebastian nodded, “I apologize.” He smiled softly, “Sekhmet married to a prince, how fitting little sister.” Smile still firmly in place he bent and began writing up his entry for the registry, filling the name Theirin with great flourishes. When he was done he grinned at them, “I quite rather enjoyed that.”

“Good, now let’s go eat and enjoy the afternoon before we all have to go back.” Sekhmet took Sebastian’s arm and pulled both him and Anders with her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to celebrate alone with just your household?” Sebastian asked softly.

“No, I want to celebrate with the only family I can have here. Now come, eat.”

Anders smiled a little at him, “I suggest you do as the lady bids. You would not like to chance her ire on her wedding day, would you?”

Sebastian smirked back, “No, not I. Lead on little sister, let us feast and celebrate your nuptials.”

********

When they returned to the estate Anders helped her from the cart again and then Bodahn and the others drove off. Sekhmet looked after them surprised. “Where are they going?”

Anders smiled, “To return the cart, and then somewhere else. They thought we might want to be alone.”

“Oh,” it was a soft sigh from her lips. This still didn’t feel quite real to her. She was a married woman now; married to the only man she could even imagine herself married to. But, the idea that she was married, it was so odd.

Shouldn’t she feel different? She’d tied her life to Anders'. She looked up at him, at his smiling face and realized why she didn’t feel all that different. She’d tied her life to Anders years ago, today they had just made it official in the eyes of the law…or rather when they were ready it would be in the eyes of the law.

Anders suddenly scooped her up into his arms, “Come, I want to get you inside otherwise I might ravish you right here, wife.”

A shiver ran through her at his use of the word. Maker, she liked the sound of it on his sculpted lips. “Husband, if you think I’m going to let you carry me over the threshold you are very much mistaken.”

“Mmm, husband, I like the sound of that.” With a saucy smirk he started moving forward.

“Anders, I mean it. I will not have you carry me over the threshold. Do you know why that stupid tradition started?” Were they going to start their married life with an argument already?

“Yes, I do. I, however, just want to carry you because it’s one of the few traditions I can enjoy. Let me pretend that we’re a normal couple. Let me carry you, please, love.” He was begging her with his eyes, those damnable brown eyes she adored so much. Oh, that wasn’t playing fair.

Shaking her head she conceded her defeat. “Fine, Anders, have it your way.”

He strode forward, his smile back in place, “Oh, I plan on it.” Carefully, he opened the door and walked into the estate and then he paused, his jaw going slack and his eyes going wide.

He probably looked the mirror image of herself. Someone had lit candles and created a walkway from the door, up the stairs and leading into their bedroom. All along the makeshift isle were strewn rose petals.

It was beautiful, the candle light flickering softly. “Who…?”

Anders shook his head, “I don’t know, but wow. Right? Isn’t this amazing?”

She nodded, it was amazing. “Anders, take me to bed.”

He looked down at her, those brown eyes locking onto her eyes. “Of course, my lady, anything you desire.”

Without further ado he walked down the aisle and headed for the stairs. He strode up them carefully, one by one and then followed the candles and rose petals to their bedroom. She gasped as they entered the room.

It was filled with candles. Along the desk, their wardrobes, the bedside tables, along the windowsill, on the floor, they were everywhere. They bathed the room in a softly dancing flickering light. Rose petals decorated the room as well.

Anders’ eyes had gone soft, almost dreamy. “Your skin is going to look so amazing in this light.”

She smiled, barely inside the room and he already had her undressed in his thoughts. Perhaps, she shouldn’t be surprised. She, herself, couldn’t stop watching how the lights played on his golden hair. She couldn’t wait to have it down and loose.

Carefully, he made his way to the bed; smile widening as he saw that it too was strewn with rose petals. He set her gently on the bed and knelt at her feet. He slipped her shoe off and kissed the instep of her stocking clad foot before he moved to the other. 

With both her shoes off he ran his hands up along the back of her legs. “I like the stockings. Will you keep wearing them?”

She bit her lip, unsure she could comply with the request. He might like the way they felt, but she’d tied ribbon around each of her thighs and folded the fabric down over them to shorten them and keep them held up. She was sure they looked as ridiculous as she imagined. “I don’t know.” She whispered.

He just nodded, not pressuring her. “Stand up, for me?”

Slowly, she did. She didn’t want to bump into him and have him knock over some of the candles in the room. He smiled up at her as his hands slid up her legs. When he reached the top of the stockings his smile widened, “Clever girl, I wondered where they came from.” 

Anders skimmed his hands over the tops of them, up the bare skin of her upper thighs to her hips. Instead of untying her smalls to take them off he merely slipped his fingers into the fabric and began to slowly pull them down her legs. Something about that, pulling them off instead of untying them aroused her.

She felt herself getting wetter the lower he pulled the fabric. When he reached the floor she obediently stepped out of them. She thought he’d discard them once he had them off; instead he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply before he flashed her a wicked smile and tucked them into the pocket of his trousers.

Heat flooded her, pooling between her legs. Sweet Andraste, how could such simple, such odd actions affect her so much? He shifted suddenly, standing. He picked her up again and moved her so she was sitting back further on the bed. Slowly, he climbed over her. She backed up smiling as he did until at last he gripped her waist and stilled her. 

Anders might always be gentle but it was hard to deny he was very much a predator in their bed. He always knew exactly what he wanted, always knew what he wanted from her. And now, as he straddled her thighs his hungry gaze was raking over her chest.

His long fingers reached out and gently caressed her breasts through her dress. He squeezed them lightly, a satisfied smile curving his incredibly gorgeous lips when her nipples hardened for him. His fingers skimmed over her collar bones then dipped down to the low neckline.

Slowly, carefully he pulled it down until her breast band clad breasts were completely revealed. He cupped both of them through the lighter fabric squeezing them gently. His thumbs circled around her nipples making them tighten further.

Her breath was becoming shaky as she was increasingly aroused. He seemed to be in no hurry. She shivered thinking about it and Anders’ smile widened. She was already hot and wet and his for the taking but he wasn’t satisfied yet. She wasn’t sure Anders was ever completely satisfied when it came to sex.

He rubbed both his thumbs over her nipples making her moan and arch her back. He went back to squeezing her breasts, massaging them as he circled her nipples which were beginning to ache. Since he’d realized he could make her cum by playing with her nipples they had ached quite often. 

He caressed her nipples again, and smiled, “I won’t tease you today.” He closed his index finger and thumb around each of her nipples squeezing them lightly.

Sekhmet let out another moan; it was a small satisfaction, a little firmer contact to ease the ache. He moved his right hand and closed his mouth over her cloth covered nipple. She slid her hands up under his tunic relishing the warmth of his skin, the feel of his chest.

Anders slipped his hand underneath her to untie her breast band. She arched her back so he could more easily remove it. And when he lifted his head to remove the fabric she caught his lips.

Yes, this was exactly what she wanted, that sharp, sweetish taste that was all Anders. She hooked her leg around his, relishing his incredible taste. Her right hand carded up into his hair and he purred for her as she tugged the leather thong from it.

Tongue teasing his, lips moving against his in a slow sensuous dance she slowly loosened his braid. A thrum of pleasure sang through her as it finally came loose tumbling down about them. Anders’ hair was incredible, beautifully golden and silky. And she loved it down.

His hair down, she turned her attention to taking off his tunic. She tugged at it gently and insistently. With their bodies pressed so close she was having difficulty.

He broke their kiss with a smile, and tugged it off. “Better?”

She didn’t bother answering, just pulled him down. She wanted him kissing her, not talking. As she enjoyed the kiss and his taste her fingers roamed over him.

She trailed her fingers over the width of his shoulders, enjoying how small he made her feel. Slowly, she slid her hands down his sides, careful not to tickle him. She smiled against his mouth. It still amused her that he was ticklish.

She enjoyed the narrowness of his waist, his hips, before sliding her hands up the muscled planes of his back. Anders’ back was its own story, covered with twisted scars, faded but still visible even under the heavy ink of the tattoo that stretched across his back. It was more of the intricate tapestry that made him such a beautiful man.

Anders, who had been cradling her body against his while they kissed suddenly shifted. He pulled at the laces of his trousers, clearly feeling impatient. She reached to help him, a thrill running through her when he groaned as soon as she had them untied. He let her go and broke the kiss to shove his trousers down, cursing when he realized he still had his boots on.

“Leave them on, I don’t care.” She felt exposed and vulnerable without him over her.

“Absolutely not, you really want the first time we make love as husband and wife to be with me with my trousers around my knees and my boots still on?” One of his boots came off with a heavy thud.

She sat up, and started moved to take off her dress. Anders turned to look at her and scowled. He gripped her wrist and stopped her.

“What are you doing?” He looked a little upset.

“Getting undressed.” Wasn’t that obvious?

He shook his head, “I want to make love to you with you wearing that dress…your wedding dress.”

Now she was scowling, “With me wearing it? But, I thought…”

He chuckled, “No, me with my trousers around my knees is ridiculous. You in your wedding dress? That’s beautiful.” He shrugged a little, “I don’t know why, but I like the idea. Nothing complicated, just the two of us making love while you wear the dress you wore for our wedding.”

She smiled, “If that’s what you want.” 

A little smirk touched his mouth, “I do.” He finished taking off his other boot and kicked his trousers and smalls off. As he turned, crawling back over her he whispered, “I love you.”

He grasped the edge of her dress and lowered his head, ducking underneath it. Pushing her thighs apart a little more he kissed her inner thigh, above where the stockings stopped. Sekhmet laid back and tried to relax.

Her eyes drifted closed as Anders kissed her sex gently, enjoying the delicious anticipation as it rolled through her. He shifted and took one of her legs, draping it over his shoulder. And she pulled him a little closer, hugging him with her legs.

He kissed her again softly, and ran his hand up the length of her other leg. His tongue slipped up her cleft, touching lightly and she shivered when he sighed contentedly. Even after all these months it was still odd to her that a man should get so much enjoyment from such an act.

His right hand coiled around her thigh that was draped over his shoulder, his thumb caressing the skin there. And his left hand continued to skim down the stockinged length of her other leg. When he tilted his head to get a better angle she felt his hair slide across her exposed skin like warm silk.

She pushed all the doubts about her body out of her head and concentrated on Anders. On the feel of his skin against her, the feel of his hair slipping along her bare flesh and the feel of his tongue eagerly tasting her. The fabric of her dress covered any part of Anders she could reach.

Gently, she pulled it out of the way so she could touch him, touch her husband. A little overwhelmed at the idea her eyes teared up. She touched his shoulder, her other hand burying itself in his glorious hair. This man, this sweet, impossible, and incredibly powerful man was hers, now and always.

He was attentive, and tender, pushing her slowly towards orgasm. The sweep of his tongue against her clit like a brush of electricity, and when he pushed his tongue slowly inside of her she struggled to be patient. The more he moved that talented tongue the more she writhed and panted and moaned.

Maker, it felt so incredible, her whole body lit, alive and responsive from just the ministrations of his tongue. And he was hers, forever. Her hand tightened on her shoulder and a small sound, almost like a sob escaped her.

She was surprised by the emotions overwhelming her. As if he knew she needed it, Anders let go of the thigh on his shoulder and took her hand in his, slipping his fingers between hers and squeezing it gently. And that tender gesture undid her completely.

She’d never been overwhelmed with joy and hope before. It surprised her that such things could make her cry. Anders shifted a bit, sucking on her clit a little harshly. As wound up as she already was she came with his name a half moan, half sob on her lips.

As she came Anders pushed his tongue back inside of her, less patiently this time. It swirled inside her, pumping in and out as he drew out her orgasm. He withdrew to soft, gentle licks before gently untangling himself and sitting up.

He looked down at her and she tried to wipe away her tears. He bent and gently touched her cheek, “Tell me these aren’t tears of pain, please.”

She smiled for him, her poor man, always so afraid of hurting her. “I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m happy.”

The concern faded and he smiled, “Happy?”

She nodded, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “Very happy.”

He looked so relieved, “I’d like to make love to my wife, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Yes, please.” She hadn’t expected this to be different. So little had actually changed, but it still felt different for some reason. 

He moved, settling his hips between her thighs, pushing her dress up out of the way. Her breasts were still bared and he dropped soft kisses across them before lifting his head and looking into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered as he pushed so gently into her.

He slipped his arms around her holding her close and kissed her. And even the kiss felt different now, full of all of Anders passion still, but something else, it felt just as needy as it always did, but it seemed somehow less desperate. She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips and kissed him back.

The two of them rocked together gently, him holding her, kissing her lips, her neck, across her chest before reclaiming her mouth. And she couldn’t get enough of his skin, her hands roamed over his body, touching him wherever she could reach. When he kissed her mouth she pressed herself tightly against him, wanting to be closer, to be more, to be one.

She felt a cool tingle against the skin of her back that she recognized. She’d felt it the day they’d lazed about in the bed together. His magic ghosted across her skin where he was touching her. 

Anders suddenly groaned and pulled her tighter, his kiss become more insistent. His hips rolled against hers and he moved his hands. She felt the trail of his magic following his hands. It felt so good, being touched with his magic like this. Not just surrounded by it, but as if it was a directed touch, almost a caress against her skin.

Anders finally broke the kiss, “That’s incredible,” his voice gravelly and deeper than usual. One of his hands worked its way down to cup her ass. His head tilted back and his eyes closed as he rolled his hips again, his length swirling deep inside of her.

Sekhmet watched fascinated as Anders flexed his fingers and his lips parted when he moaned in response to whatever it was he was doing. He stayed like that, hips flexing and rolling, fingers kneading her flesh, neck still arched back and eyes closed, seemingly lost in sensation. And as she watched she saw something odd and incredibly beautiful. The sapphire blue mist she had seen that day, it started to rise from Anders’ lips, his tongue, his mouth. 

“Anders, kiss me.” She cupped his head and pulled him down, wanting very much to taste him, to taste some part of whatever was happening to him.

Anders complied and Sekhmet moaned at his taste, her fingers tightening wanting more of it. Sweet Andraste, he tasted incredible. That taste was him, sharp and clear, clean and slightly sweet, but magnified as if it had been distilled to some incredible liquor. And it was truly intoxicating. 

And it seemed she wasn’t the only one who liked it. Anders shifted, pushing her deeper into the mattress and kissed her fiercely, moaning, his hips undulating faster. He squeezed her ass a little harder, his other hand moving to fist into her hair, holding their heads together.

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and then widened in surprise. That mist seemed to be rising from every inch of Anders that she could see with her limited view. His whole face and even his hair, and she could feel the cool tingling sensation all over her body. Her body couldn’t take so much stimulation and she squeezed her eyes shut again as she came hard. 

Anders broke off the kiss as she did, almost yelling, “Holy shit,” as he came too. The two of them clutched each other panting and trembling as they came back down. Sekhmet was sad to see the glorious blue swirling mist rising from Anders dissipate as her orgasm subsided.

Anders was watching her with amazement. “What just happened?”

She giggled, “You’re asking me? That was all you. But it was good,” she rolled her hips making Anders groan.

His eyes shut again momentarily, “So damned good.” He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, “Was I…glowing?” He suddenly looked nervous.

Sekhmet was confused about his sudden worry until she realized what he was really worried about. “It wasn’t Justice. It was all you, and it was beautiful,” she stroked his hair, “it was amazing and gentle and loving, Anders. All you, I promise.”

He visibly relaxed, and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Me either.” She shifted and he moved off her, immediately pulling her against him.

“I should be worried, I know I should, but I just feel so good, so relaxed and happy.” He turned kissed her, soft and sweet.

“If you have to worry, do it later. I feel amazing too.” She smiled, happiness washing over her again. “I can’t remember ever being this happy.”

Anders let her go and moved to sit up, and that smile of his, that heartwarming, brain melting, incredibly gorgeous smile of his was firmly planted on his beautifully sculpted lips. He looked so happy and content. And it made her feel even more incredible. Anders should always look this good, this happy.

He reached for the ties on her dress. “Come on, let’s get this off you.” He untied it and carefully tugged it off. “I was right; your skin looks so incredible in this light.” He kissed her shoulder. “Hmm, so…” his finger traced over her collar bone lightly, “any requests?”

She smirked at him; he was clearly ready for round two. And she would be too, before too long. But the increased appetite that had plagued her since her recovery had reared its head again. “How about a sandwich?”

He chuckled, “You will be an inspiration to generations of romantic poets.” Still, he slid out of the bed and held out his hand for her, “Let’s get you fed shall we?”


	56. Lord and Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Christmas gift, whether you celebrate or not. Warning: Fluff ahead

Anders was trying very hard not to be miserable. He was a newlywed after all. A fact precious few knew, a fact he and Sekhmet would keep to themselves for now for everyone’s safety, including the man he was currently trying not to be jealous of.

Sebastian stood there in the front, beaming up at Anders’ wife as she stood on the dias outside the Gallows. And between the dias and Anders was all of Kirkwall come to see his wife officially named “Champion of Kirkwall”. While they all stood and cheered in the open, Anders was stuck skulking in the back, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Sekhmet had told him it was fine to stay home but there was absolutely no way he was missing his wife being named Champion. Especially, considering that without a Viscount it meant the Knight Commander herself was going to have to name her. The irony of Meredith naming Sekhmet Champion of Kirkwall was just too delicious to be missed.

So, he would swallow his jealousy at Sebastian being Sekhmet’s escort to the event. And he would swallow his jealousy that Sebastian could so openly stand before all these people and be proud of Sekhmet’s accomplishment. And he would do it because he wanted to have this memory, seeing her named Champion.

He touched the ring in his ear and smiled, the jealousy melting away in a flash. Let the people of Kirkwall have her today, let Sebastian stand at her side. Anders would have her for the rest of his life. 

“I’m surprised to see you here, gorgeous.” Izzy’s voice was quiet, her usual bravado seemingly missing.

He reluctantly turned his gaze from the stage, “What do you want, Isabela?”

She shifted a little before taking a deep breath and slapping on a grin, “Who says I want anything?”

Anders rolled his eyes and looked back to Sekhmet and Meredith. He couldn’t hear what was going on very well over the crowd, but he enjoyed watching it nonetheless. Isabela would either get to the point or would leave.

Isabela didn’t leave. She didn’t speak again either. Surprisingly, she watched the rest of the ceremony in silence. 

And when it was done Sebastian took Sekhmet’s arm and slowly led her through the crowd. Sekhmet stopped and spoke with people again and again. Anders couldn’t help but smirk thinking about how much self control that must be taking for her. His darling wife did not suffer fools gladly as a general rule.

“Do the earrings help?” Izzy finally spoke again.

“With what?” Anders watched Sekhmet’s progress carefully, ready to move if someone should seek to harm her.

“Do they keep the jealousies at bay?” 

“Perhaps,” why was she bothering him?

“And it stopped her from kicking you out when you wouldn’t marry her?” Poking at sore spots, or in this case, perceived sore spots, was one of Isabela’s favorite pastimes.

He suppressed the urge to smile, to give it all away, because, Sweet Andraste, a big part of him wanted everyone to know. Instead, he shrugged, “She seems happy enough, doesn’t she?”

“And you don’t mind that half the city thinks Sebastian is her lover?” Was she trying to make him jealous?

He supposed she probably was, the truth was that Anders and Sekhmet had spoken about just that very thing at length. The confusion caused by visits to noble houses on Sebastian’s arm, and now him escorting her to this event benefitted them all for now. “Why should I care what others think? She loves me, and we’re happy.”

“For now,” she snorted.

He knew she was referring to the constant ups and downs between him and Sekhmet, but he was being optimistic. Was it too much too hope those days were over? They had a more solid foundation under them now. Sekhmet was getting close and his attention was all on her, even as he began to slowly back away from where she would emerge from the crowd.

Isablea kept pace with him as he backed up. “I don’t recognize this man you’ve become Anders. Playing house? Helping those fools in Darktown? And now you’re here, in the damn Gallows, for what? To watch some ridiculous ceremony about a pretend title? What are you doing?”

Anders had enough, he turned and glared at her, “I’m a better man than I was. And you…you’re exactly the same, a viper of a woman ready to do anything to save her own damned skin.”

“Not anything.” It was practically a whisper.

“You don’t fool me, Isabela. You’re just here because you’re lonely.” He spotted Sekhmet in the crowd again, the sight of her cooling his temper immediately. He held back a smile. That placid feeling of contentment was so new he relished it.

“It’s not loneliness.” Whatever Isabela was feeling it seemed to have taken a lot out of her. And if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication it was keeping her awake at night as well.

Anders pulled his gaze away from Sekhmet trying to focus on Isabela who clearly needed something from him. And while she wasn’t being forthcoming about what she really wanted she couldn’t hold his gaze either, which was rather telling itself. “Ah, I see. That’s regret you’re feeling, seems someone’s conscience is waking up.”

“I shouldn’t have come back, why would I do such a stupid thing? I could have been killed.” She shook her head, and looked to the ground. “I still might be.”

“Not at her hand, you won’t.” He’d thought Isabela knew Sekhmet better than that. If she was going after Izzy for leaving she would have done it by now.

“And what makes you so sure? I…heard you were hurt when I left. She won’t forgive that easily.”

Izzy had a point of course, Sekhmet was furious about that as well as Fenris’ injury. But she wasn’t going to hurt Isabela over it. “You came back with the book, it means something.”

“Yes, I’m an idiot.”

He wanted to feel more compassion for her, he did, but she’d abandoned him as well that day. His injury and the uncomfortable exchange he’d been forced into with Fenris because of Isabela leaving made it hard for him to commiserate with her. “I wouldn’t necessarily call you and idiot…but…”

She spun on her heel and left abruptly, calling as she left. “I’m weak. That’s what she’s made me and it’s going to get me killed.”

********

Anders shuffled onto the ferry headed back to the docks with a large group of Fereldens who were still dwelling in Darktown. Most of them recognized him and smiled in greeting. They shuffled until he was seated towards the center of the ferry, his height hidden by those standing around him.

It made him feel good that they accepted him so easily and without a word did their best to hide him from notice. They’d been doing it for him for years, little things like this, little things that had likely saved his life and he’d barely even acknowledged it. He looked around the ferry, doing his best to memorize their faces. He’d thank them if he ran into them again.

Everywhere around him there was excited talk about Sekhmet being named Champion. The Fereldens were in awe of her, an outsider named Champion of a city in the Free Marches. And as could be expected in any conversation of famous Fereldens Sareyna’s name was brought up more than once.

He wondered what she would think of him being married. She’d been the one who had tried to tell him not to give up on love when he had been with the Wardens. He covered his mouth and grinned, who would have thought that when it came down to it that Cailan would have been the son that married the least impressive woman?

At the docks he quickly disembarked from the ferry and headed to the Hanged Man. Varric had asked him and Sekhmet to join him for a few rounds in celebration of her new title and the fact that they’d all managed to survive the Qunari attack. The door to Varric’s suite stood open as per usual.

Varric eyed Anders’ earring for a moment, “Is that it, _the_ earring?”

Anders nodded, he and Sekhmet had a story all set to tell if necessary. 

“Does that mean we can expect invitations to your nuptials soon?” Varric was smiling; it looked like the prospect pleased him greatly.

Anders hated to disappoint the man. “Sorry, but that’s not very likely.”

“You’re an idiot.” Varric scowled briefly before turning away. 

Merrill had just quietly walked into the room. Her eyes immediately locked on the earring as well. Her eyes widened and she grinned.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Daisy. Apparently, there isn’t going to be a wedding.” Varric settled himself into a chair and poured what looked to be a tumbler of whiskey.

Merrill’s whole face fell as if Varric had just told her that all the flowers in the world died at once. “But…but, don’t you love her?”

Why did people keep acting like he didn’t love Sekhmet? It was beginning to irritate him. He didn’t snap or growl at her, instead, he responded calmly. “We do love each other and for now we’ve made our own promises. That’s going to have to be enough for everyone.”

Merrill pouted and plopped herself down into another chair. At least she wasn’t bothering him about it anymore. Varric asked a lot of questions about the ceremony. Anders did his best to answer, he found himself oddly annoyed that Varric hadn’t gone to see himself. If he wanted to know he should have gone and supported Sekhmet himself.

He was still answering questions when Fenris joined them. Surprisingly, he seemed to be in a fairly good mood and managed to be civil. He even tipped his head in greeting to Anders before settling down at the far end of the table.

Sebastian and Sekhmet came in later, both looking relieved to be there. And following on their heels was Aveline. She closed the door behind her and slumped against it looking exhausted.

She shook her head, “Thank you for behaving yourself, Hawke.”

Sekhmet let go of Sebastian’s arm and crossed the room to climb into Anders’ lap and he was pleased as punch to have her. “It wasn’t for your benefit.” Sekhmet grumbled at Aveline.

Sebastian settled down beside them looking as weary as Aveline. “No, it was for mine and I appreciate it.” He shook his head and looked at Anders, “We got mobbed on the way here. Aveline and the guard had to keep people back.”

Aveline sighed, “There’s no damn sense in these people’s heads, I swear.”

“Relax and take a seat Captain.” Sekhmet glared at Varric but he ignored her and kept talking. “The people are just desperate for a little light in their lives and that’s what Hawke symbolizes to them.”

“Some of the nobles have started a petition to have a statue made of her.” Sebastian was clearly amused by the idea.

“Well, at least it won’t take much stone to make.” Fenris quipped.

Sekhmet pulled off her glove and chucked it at Fenris who easily caught it and set it on the table. Anders couldn’t help himself, he laughed along with the rest of them. Varric poured shots and handed them out.

Aveline started to open the door, “I better get back out there.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be providing protection to the Champion?” Varric asked lightly.

“Varric,” Sekhmet’s tone was warning.

Anders kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear. “Be gracious, just for today.”

Sekmet took a deep breath and relaxed then gestured to a seat by Fenris. “Sit Aveline. You’re the guard captain, and everyone knows we came from Ferelden together. No one is going to begrudge you an evening with us.”

Aveline paused, “Are you sure?”

His darling lioness even managed a smile, “I’m never sure of anything. But my papa once told me it was the things you didn’t do you would regret in old age, not the things you did.”

Aveline scanned the room briefly. Apparently deciding that she really was welcome she sat heavily in the chair next to Fenris. “Are we expecting Isabela?”

“Probably not,” Anders answered easily enough. Other than her appearance at his side earlier the pirate queen had made herself scarce since the Qunari attack.

The evening was pleasant, drinking and laughing and reminiscing. And eventually, Varric told the story of how they had fought their way through the city, ending of course with the climactic fight between Sekhmet and the Arishok. Fenris had even interjected a few times. 

The elf was fairly friendly and chatty; Varric had bought several good bottles of wine which Fenris had claimed for himself. It was an excellent social lubricant for the man. Anders didn’t even mind the fond gazes he cast in Sekhmet’s direction periodically. 

And as darkness fell outside there was a knock at the door. Varric jumped up, all smiles. He pulled open the door to reveal an elven woman with a lute. 

The man had great timing. Enough of the celebrants were intoxicated that they thoroughly enjoyed singing along with the bard. Most of them sounded as terrible as you would expect. The real surprise was Sebastian and Fenris together. Their voices blended beautifully and Anders found himself listening to them raptly. 

And when everyone was loose and relaxed and as happy as this bunch got Varric whispered in the bard’s ear. She smiled and nodded. Varric shushed them all and for several seconds the room was silent. And then the bard began to play and to sing. 

It was a slow and sweet melody, with sad undertones. The music was the perfect accompaniment to the song. A story in turns mournful and triumphant, it was the story of Sekhmet from the Blight until she defeated the Arishok.

Clearly, Varric had helped her with some of the details. Anders felt a little unsettled as he listened. It made him uncomfortable to hear their lives spelled out like that, in a song. A song he knew would be repeated, a song people would learn and sing to each other.

As he looked around the room he had the sense that Sebastian and Fenris both felt the same as he did. Both men looked rather uncomfortable and exchanged uneasy glances. They all stayed silent and let her finish, though.

When she was done Varric escorted her from the room before he settled back at the table. “What did you think?”

“Branching out are we?” Aveline asked.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. History is the best tales, the ones that last. They might as well be mine.” He shrugged, “Songs last a long time and have a bigger audience than a book would.”

Sekhmet sighed, “I don’t know about this, Varric.”

“I don’t like it,” Fenris, pleasantly drunk or not, pulled no punches.

“What is wrong with you guys? It doesn’t name anyone.” Varric was scowling. “They’re going to make songs about what happened here, about Hawke and the people she travels with. This way at least we have a little control over it.”

Sebastian stood, “No, you have control over it. You didn’t speak to us. There are private things in that song, things it is no one’s business to know but ours.” He shook his head; Anders was surprised by how upset Sebastian looked. “And you’ve let her insinuate things you know are not true.”

Ah, that explained it. And it had upset Anders a little, but the alternative was possibly worse. Although, it surprised Anders that Sebastian was that upset about the song suggesting he turned his back on his vows for Sekhmet. 

“Half of Kirkwall thinks the two of you are lovers.” Varric looked confused about Sebastian’s agitation.

“Thinking I’m her beau is one thing, thinking I abandoned my god for her is quite another, Varric.” Sebastian clenched his hands into fists and his face was starting to turn red.

Sekhmet reached out and took Sebastian’s hand. “Varric will fix it,” she turned a suddenly steely gaze on the dwarf, “Won’t you?” Sebastian’s devotion to the Maker was very important to Sekhmet for whatever reason and it seemed she wasn’t about to let Varric make a mockery of it.

“You have the lyrics, don’t you?” Anders asked softly. There were a few things he wouldn’t mind having changed. And if Sekhmet didn’t get her way he would be the one trying to calm her for the rest of the night. Not that he didn’t have a few ideas to take her mind off the song…

Varric turned and pulled a stack of parchment off his desk. “This was supposed to be my bloody story.” 

He tossed it on the table and they spent the next hour getting rid of a few things and conceding to others. Anders was less than pleased with the whole process. The more Varric pushed to let them name Anders as her lover the less Anders wanted to be there.

Eventually, he kissed Sekhmet’s temple. “I think I’m going to head home, love. Sebastian can walk you back once you’re finished, right? Or would you rather I stay?”

She climbed out of his lap, “Nah, head on home. I’ll be there once we get this straightened out.”

********

Hours later Sekhmet and Sebastian finally headed home. Everyone else had left more than an hour before, but the issue about what it was and was not alright to insinuate regarding Sekhmet’s love life had been a long and frustrating conversation. Eventually, Varric had agreed to leave it ambiguous.

Sekhmet and Sebastian had made their way carefully though Lowtown. Many of the stalls were still open, a special bazaar held in her honor apparently. The crowds had cleared out and the few groups of people left just nodded in acknowledgement or waived. 

Sekhmet was so relieved when they reached the estate; she was exhausted. Sebastian gave her a quick hug before heading for the Chantry, ready to call it a night himself. He’d had to play the part of her escort all day and he wasn’t used to being in the public eye so much after so many years in the Chantry. He gave her a tired smile, “You make sure you tell that man of yours I behaved myself today.”

She laughed, “I don’t think that’s going to be such an issue anymore.”

“The change in him…It’s kind of remarkable.” 

She nodded; she knew exactly what Sebastian meant. Anders seemed much more at peace since the wedding. Yes, he was nervous about people finding out, but overall he was calmer and seemed more confident, less on edge all the time. 

“Take care, sis.” He turned and headed for the Chantry.

“Good night.” She turned and headed inside, eager herself to climb into bed. Opening the door to the estate she froze, confused by what she was seeing. Tyr was lying in front of the fire, head resting on his paws looking dejected. There was a fluff of orange fur on Tyr’s back batting at his ear and an orange and white one gnawing on one of his back paws. Sekhmet burst into laughter and closed the door behind her.

She crossed the foyer and walked over to Tyr; she pulled the two kittens off of her ever so patient mabari and sat down next to him. Placing the kittens in her lap she petted them idly while she scratched behind Tyr’s ear. “You’re such a good boy, Tyr, taking care of these little ones.” 

She’d had a sneaking suspicion a cat or two would end up calling the estate home. Truth be told she was surprised it had taken as long as it had. Anders couldn’t walk by a stray cat without stopping to pet it. And just where was her darling husband? She looked around briefly, before asking Tyr. “Where’s Anders?”

Tyr turned his head towards the stairs then nuzzled into her hand. Sekhmet followed Tyr’s gaze and deciding she didn’t want to put the kittens down just yet called up to him. “Anders?”

There was nothing but silence, he was probably busy with something but she did wonder where the kittens came from. Upon closer examination she found that kitten was a boy and the other was a girl, both looked under nourished. So, why wasn’t Anders feeding them? Her curiosity getting the better of her, she stood up with the kittens and headed for the stairs.

She opened their bedroom door slowly, but Anders wasn’t there. She listened and heard a slight rustling in the next room. One that hadn’t been used since Anders had spent the night there all that time ago. She knocked on the door lightly and she heard a soft curse on the other side of the door.

Pushing open the door slowly, in case he was behind it, she saw Anders kneeling on the floor in front of a blanket. On it were another calico kitten and an orange tabby adult cat. They were both lying very still and Sekhmet realized they were dead. 

He turned to look up at her, he shook his head and she could see how upset he was, “I couldn’t do anything for them. It was already too long.” He looked back down at them. “I’m not used to healing animals.”

“It’s alright love,” she soothed, “you can’t save them all.”

He didn’t turn back to face her. “Why the Void not? Do you know what happened to these cats? Merrill was doing a little late shopping in the Lowtown bazaar after she left the Hanged Man and found two little boys throwing stones at them.” 

He stood up and turned to face her. He ran his fingers over the little orange kitten, “These two were easy, just minor injuries, but the other kitten,” He shuddered and shook his head, “His skull was crushed and the mother had massive internal injuries. By time she got them here there really wasn’t anything I could do.”

“I sent Merrill home, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to save them and she was upset as it was.” He picked up the orange tabby and cradled it in one of his long fingered hands, stroking the soft fur with the other. He looked at Sekhmet, “I don’t understand this world, not really. We lock people up for being born with magic yet we tolerate boys killing animals cruelly.”

Such a fragile heart her man had, such compassion. She wasn’t sure what to say or do to make this less terrible. “I wish I had answers for you.”

Anders walked to her side and leaned against her a little. He kissed her forehead and sighed, “I’m sorry, and don’t worry, the kittens aren’t staying. They’re just here until they’re old enough to go to better homes. Merrill said she would help me take care of them.”

Sekhmet smiled and tucked a strand of his loosed hair behind his ear. “It’s alright love, they can stay.”

Anders moved back a little and smiled at her. “Stay?”

Sekhmet laughed, “Yes, you know, they can live here; you don’t have to find new homes for them. Its fine Anders, this is your place too.”

Anders took a deep breath, “But with Tyr…” he trailed off as she grinned at him.

“Tyr was just letting them crawl over him while he napped by the fire.”

Anders grinned, “I’m kinda sorry I missed that, but honestly, I don’t know about keeping them. It’s a lot to take care of them and with us both gone so much…”

Sekhmet placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I never would have thought you would work this hard to make excuses against having a cat, Anders. Didn’t you tell Tyr you were a cat person?”

Anders raised the cat in his arms to his face and nuzzled it a bit before handing it back to Sekhmet. He turned back to the two still bodies on the blanket. “I’ll take care of this. And we need to figure out where we’re going to keep the kittens while they’re here.”

He bent and folded over the blanket before picking it up and slipping out of the room with it. Sekhmet went down to the kitchen and found some left over rabbit. Setting the kittens on the floor she took some of the meat from the rabbit and chopped it up as finely as she could. 

She put it into a low sided bowl and set it on the floor before filling another with water. Tomorrow she would go to the market and get them some milk. The kittens scrabbled over to the food, meowing and eating it quickly. They were so cute.

Sekhmet called for Tyr and he hurried into the kitchen. She crouched down to pet him. “These little guys are going to be staying with us and they’re going to need you to protect them. They’re too small to fend for themselves, okay? Can you do that? Can you be a good big brother?”

He moved forward and sniffed the cats before sitting down heavily with a tired sounding “woof”. 

Sekhmet laughed, “You can do better than that. It’ll make Anders happy.” 

She grabbed the rest of the rabbit and held it out for Tyr, fair was fair after all. This time Tyr responded much more eagerly. She scratched his ears, and kissed the top of his head. He was such a good dog, such a good friend. He’d do his best with the kittens, she knew. He’d taken to Anders almost as quickly as she had. 

Sekhmet couldn’t even say why. She just knew he liked Anders more than just about anyone else, even if he was still wary of Justice. And who could blame Tyr for that?

She sat on the floor watching the kittens as they ate and petted Tyr while he wolfed down the rabbit. He sat beside her when he was finished resting his head on her shoulder watching the kittens with her. It brought her a simple joy being here with Tyr watching the new kittens. Their little family was growing. 

Anders came in a while later. He settled on the floor on the other side of her with a smile watching the kittens with her. Their meal was long done, but they were wrestling each other and chasing each other around the kitchen.

Anders took her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. He squeezed it lightly and kissed the top of her head. Her darling husband seemed to be feeling the same sense of well being and contentment she was.

“So, what are we going to call them?” She asked.

“Are you sure you want to keep them?”

She giggled, “Have you seen how adorable they are? How are we supposed to get rid of them? Besides, I’ve already given Tyr the big brother speech.”

“You did?” Anders hooked her chin with his finger and turned her to look at him. “I love you.” He kissed her softly. 

A shiver ran through her, sometimes Anders could convey so much with a single kiss. It was like the act of pressing his lips against hers was its own language. A language far more eloquent than spoken words allowed. And that kiss had been full of happiness and joy and had almost screamed cherish. Something they were both learning about.

She opened her eyes when he broke the kiss. “I love you, too.” She murmured at a loss for anything else to say. There had to be a better word, but she didn’t know it so love would have to do. 

Anders watched the kittens for a few minutes longer before suddenly announcing. “Lord and Lady Purrfect Claws”

She giggled, “I’d ask if you were kidding but considering your last cat’s name…”

He gave her a mock haughty glare, “The lord and lady will not be mocked.”

Which just made her giggle more, “With names like that I think the lord and lady will be mocked aplenty. What if we just call them Lord and Lady?”

Anders shrugged, “Call them what you want, but they have been named.”

Still laughing she slowly stood up, fatigue tugging at her. “I’m too tired to have this discussion. I’m going to head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

Anders stood and pouted, “And I was just thinking about making love on the table in here.”

She patted his cheek affectionately, “Sorry love, I’m heading to bed and you’re going to go tell Bodahn about our new family members.”

His eyes widened a little, “Good idea, then I’m going to crawl into bed with you. We’re both going to get some good sleep tonight. No bad dreams, healer’s orders.”

She stretched before heading for the door. “Mmm, I say we dream about kittens.” 

Anders chuckled, “Let me know how that works out for you. I’ll be up in a bit.”

********

Anders awoke languidly the next morning, sleep sliding slowly off him. And miracle of miracles, he felt good, again. When was the last time he’d awoken two days in a row feeling good, feeling rested? He felt downright blissful this morning.

And why not? He had a place to call home, a warm bed to sleep in at night, food to eat and that most elusive of luxuries, love. He smiled, and kitties. He couldn’t forget that, somewhere wandering around were two adorable kittens.

Sekhmet was still asleep curled in front of him. Gently, he unwound himself from around her. He was glad she didn’t mind being all but smothered in her sleep. It seemed he always woke up with her curled tight against him, his arms trapping her against his body.

He kissed the top of her head. His little lioness, his wife, she’d become so much more to him over the months. Not just his friend, or his lover, but she was how he kept a hold of his humanity, she was the reason he kept trying to be a better man, a decent man. And she’d become something of a balm for the storm of Justice inside of him. 

Justice had been quiet since the incident in the Keep before Sekhmet had faced the Arishok. Anders had expected him to at least offer some input about his marriage but the spirit hadn’t stirred. Anders had no idea what the spirit was feeling or what was going on with him, but he wasn’t about to make himself crazy worrying about it. 

He was too busy enjoying a bit of peace with Sekhmet. After so nearly losing her, every moment with her now seemed like its own miraculous event. Crazy witch or not, Flemeth had known what she was doing when she put him and Sekhmet onto a collision course. And he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid of the implications. He and Sekhmet belonged together. Whatever the future held the two of them would face it side by side. 

He sat up, immediately pulling his foot back up off the floor with a quiet chuckle. His foot had immediately been attacked by little claws. Seemed the kittens had found their way into the bedroom.

Bending over, he petted them both briefly before getting up and finding a pair of trousers to pull on. The fire was starting to die so he tossed another on another log. He moved to the corner of the room where he and Sekhmet had set up a small reading nook and settled into a large chair.

He’d read for a bit and wait for Sekhmet to wake up. She was still on the tail end of her recovery from the injuries the Arishok had inflicted. Her increased appetite and the need for more sleep were almost gone, in a day or two she would be back to her old self. 

For now, he’d enjoy watching her sleep. He liked how peaceful she looked, how calm she was in sleep. There was so much stress in her life. So many people that needed or wanted so many things from her she needed a rest now and then. Perhaps he could talk her into a trip into the mountains before she returned to her hectic life.

He picked up the book of Sekhmet’s notes. She’d become marginally more organized since he’d moved in. Probably because he got so frustrated when she was trying to explain something she had been researching and asking for his input. She would have stacks of scrap pieces of parchment she had scribbled on and disorganized notes in the margins of a dozen different places. It was a nightmare trying to follow her work sometimes.

But this book she’d been careful about organizing. The original notes were all over her desk and slowly making their way into the leather bound volume as she put them into some semblance of order. She was very keen on him reading it, and what better time than now?

The subject immediately set his mind afire as it had obviously done for Sekhmet. Writings by a group calling themselves the ‘Band of Three’ had sent her off on a flurry of research. She’d done some incredible research considering she wasn’t a mage.

Suddenly, he almost lost his grip on the book. The kittens had climbed up on him while he was reading and he was so engrossed he hadn’t noticed. And now one of them was climbing onto the book.

He smiled and petted them for a moment, but his mind was working now. Sekhmet had a map of the city on her desk, he’d seen it a few times. After reading one of the entries in the book he had to see for himself if there were really glyphs built right into the design of the city.

Moving Lord and Lady he stood and went to her desk. He found the map and rolled it out. Sekhmet had already marked a few glyphs that she apparently recognized, or found through her research, but even with a cursory examination he could see others. Pushing most of the mess off to the side he used the book to hold one side of the map down and got out a quill and some ink and lost himself into the magickal architecture of the city.

And that’s how Sekhmet found him a couple hours later. Bent over her desk with the map marked up and scribbling onto an errant piece of parchment himself. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Anders, wow, there are so many!”

He nodded, “It’s a spell of some sort I think. I’m still mapping out possibilities. I can’t even get my head around what this might all mean yet.”

“That’s why I wanted you to take a look at it. I know some things, and can find others, but I wasn’t even sure where to start with some of it.” She pulled his hair back and kissed his neck.

“It seems a Circle education is good for some things. I wish I had access to some of the books Morrigan had brought with her from the Peak.” He murmured as he finished up a note. He needed a break and some breakfast might be in order. 

“And should I know what all of that means?”

He put down the quill and smiled. “Not yet, we’ll talk over breakfast and I’ll tell you about the Peak and the ancient blood mage who used to live there.”

She backed up to let him stand. “And about Morrigan?” 

He shrugged; he didn’t want to talk about Morrigan. He didn’t like thinking about Morrigan. Because thinking about her led to thinking about what she had done. And that in turn led to thinking about how she had paid for it and how he had failed her. “She was a Warden.”

She smirked, “So, you fucked her and don’t want to talk about it. I understand.”

Anders grimaced, ugh, now there was an awful thought. “Maker, no. I didn’t touch her.”

Sekhmet giggled as she started pulling out clothes, “Was she hideous or something?”

“Or something.” He grabbed his soft leather slippers before heading for the door. It was the most expedient way he could think of to end the conversation.


	57. Take My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links included to return readers to DA if they came from there and want a quick link back, otherwise feel free to ignore them.

“How many of these blasted things are there going to be anyway?” Anders grumbled as he stalked up the stairs. He’d been working on some new ideas about her research when she’d told him she would be leaving soon. 

He hadn’t even realized the day had slipped away and now he was going to have to watch her leave on Sebastian’s arm again. Yes, they were married and yes he didn’t feel as jealous as he had previously. But, how many times could one sit and watch their wife dressed up and looking gorgeous leaving on another man’s arm before he lost his damn mind? 

Sekhmet was already in the room getting ready for yet another party. “I don’t know. But, you’re the one who suggested I go for the morale of the city.”

“That was twenty damned parties ago.” He plopped himself into a chair next to the fire in their room.

She laughed, “Oh, it was not. And you’re just sore because you end up sitting here all night brooding about the fact you’ve sent me off with Sebastian…again. So, why don’t we just skip this part? Get dressed and come with me.”

“I can’t go to a party like that with you, Sekhmet, don’t be ridiculous.” He snarled at her, more because she was right than anything else. Logically, Sebastian was the perfect choice to send with her to these parties. She couldn’t go alone, and if nothing else he trusted Sebastian to protect her. And Sebastian was used to such societal gatherings. But as soon as the door to the estate closed behind him he started thinking about the two of them together. 

He’d practically pushed her into Sebastian’s arms. The two of them were at party after party, drinking and dancing and laughing. It was just asking for trouble. How long before she decided to trade in her sewer dwelling healer for the prince whose arm she was on night after night?

She turned and looked at him, almost daring him. “Why not?”

She was just being stubborn now; she knew damned well why not. “Because I’m an apostate.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware you were planning on wearing a sign.” Every word dripped with sarcasm.

Anders gritted his teeth; she was really pushing his buttons tonight. “You know damn well that I don’t need to wear a sign.” And this had become an old argument over the weeks since she was officially named as Champion. 

Sekhmet rolled her eyes, “You think there will be Templars at this party? You think that even if there were they would dare to touch the Champion’s husband?”

He wasn’t going to let her goad him. The last thing he wanted to do before she left was to have a fight. Besides, he had a much better idea. Anders pulled her close and kissed her until she moaned. “Except to everyone outside of this room I am merely your lover.”

“And why is that?” She retorted sharply. 

He’d seen the strain on her over the weeks as more and more people assumed she was Sebastian’s intended. Even as she saw the practicality of the lie she hated it. “Let’s not fight.” He pulled her tighter, fitting her closely against him. If he wanted her to stay with him tonight he was going to have to be more persuasive. He grabbed the top of the thin dress she wore and pushed it down baring her breasts. 

“Anders, we’re supposed to be getting ready to go.” But there was no fire to her words.

“I already told you I wasn’t going.” He ran his thumb around her nipple a few times until it was hard. “And hopefully, I can convince you to stay home as well.” He let his thumb swipe over the hardened nipple. 

“Anders.” Her voice held a tone of warning.

“Stay home and make love to me.” He bent to take her nipple into his mouth.

Sekhmet pulled out of his grasp and reached up under her gown pulling off her smalls. Tossing them to Anders she gave him her little smirk, “Come and make love to me there. Press me into a dark corner; pull me into a hidden alcove, anytime you want, anywhere at the party.”

She was a tempting little vixen, he’d give her that. “And if I want to strip you naked and take you in the middle of the ballroom?” He snagged her around the waist and pulled her close, whispering into her ear. “Give all those prattling nobles a good view of me filling you.” He nipped at her ear, “There’d be no doubt who you belonged to then, would there?”

She shivered and then pulled away. “Then I insist you let me tell people we’re married first, otherwise imagine the scandal.” She gave him a cheeky smile.

Anders shook his head; truth was he rather liked the idea of fucking her at one of these parties. And from the look on her face, she knew it. “Anyone ever tell you that you don’t fight fair?”

“Yes, a rather dashing apostate told me that once I think.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Now what was that darling man’s name?” The little minx shrugged and looked at him, “I think you would have rather liked him, love. He had the most gifted mouth and the most incredibly talented tongue.”

********

Anders laughed and scooped her up tossing her over his shoulder. Oh, the incorrigible rogue, she was going to look a right mess by time he set her down. She grunted as he unceremoniously dropped her in the chair near the fireplace and pushed up her skirt.

That gorgeous smile of his turned lecherous a moment before he grabbed the back of her thighs and pulled her forward until she was seated on the very edge of the chair. She tried to push him away half heartedly as he leaned forward and ran the tip of his tongue over her sex. Her body, the traitorous thing, responded to his touch immediately. 

No wonder he enjoyed being with her so much. She got wet in the blink of an eye for him. When he parted her folds and lapped gently against her clit, she squealed and tried to back away. She needed to focus and get herself straightened out before Sebastian arrived to collect her. Her protests were short lived and soon she was twining her fingers into his hair, trying to pull him closer, rubbing her sex on Anders’ face.

He slid his tongue around her entrance making her squirm and writhe. Then pushed back the hood covering her clit and fluttered his tongue lightly against it; she was aching and moaning in the span of but moments. And for once he wasn’t teasing her, just that constant unrelenting fluttering against her clit pushing her quickly towards her orgasm. And then, just a moment before that sweet release the bastard stopped.

[Click here to return to DA](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-Take-My-Hand-424018563)

He pulled away and stood up. “Well, if you remember his name, I would love to hear it. But for now, I have a boring party to get ready for.”

“Anders!” She could strangle him; he’d left her right on the edge, panting and needy. 

He spun to look at her, feigning innocence, “Oh, was that his name?”

She sighed and pushed down her skirt. Fine, she was frustrated but she was still leaving. Standing, she smoothed her skirt, “You really are insufferable sometimes.”

“Insufferable would be if I didn’t intend to finish later.” He turned on his heel and walked over to the wardrobe in the corner. The wardrobe packed with clothes she had hired a seamstress to make for him. Clothes he had so far never worn.

Opening it he pulled out a pair of black silk trousers that were going to look incredible on him. She noticed that he checked the laces in front untied easily. Apparently, he intended on making her keep her promise, the idea thrilled her. With a soft smile he pulled out a sapphire blue tunic to match Sekhmet’s dress. The sleeves of the tunic were a soft silk while the torso was brocade. 

She couldn’t believe he was actually going. She’d have to send Bodahn to let Sebastian know. For a moment, she felt guilty. Going to this party with Anders was going to put a crimp in Sebastian’s defense against the over eager noble women in Kirkwall. It looked like Sebastian was going to be back on the open market by morning.

Before she sent Bodahn to give Sebastian the bad news she had to try to repair some of the damage Anders had done. Eventually, satisfied she looked presentable she watched Anders dress. He looked delicious in his outfit, but she had an idea for his feet. She had bought him new black boots shortly after their wedding, but so far he had stubbornly refused to wear them. 

She set them at his feet without a word. Anders stared at them for a brief moment before he sat down and pulled them on. At least he didn’t argue with her. 

He stood and looked at her nervously as he smoothed his hand over his hair, “You don’t like it?”

Sekhmet chuckled quietly; apparently she’d been staring at him rather intently. How the man could possibly think she didn’t like it was beyond her. He was stunning, breathtaking. His long legs encased in silk? What woman wouldn’t love that?

And his ass, Sweet Maker, it looked tasty. “I was thinking about changing my mind and staying here to make love to you. Maker, you look good enough to eat Anders.” Crossing to him she ran her hand over the glossy silk encasing his ass. MMm, warm silk, she paused and squeezed him causing Anders to laugh a little. “But, I think a night of drinking, dancing, and mingling as foreplay might be just as good.” 

Anders turned to face her and her hand slid to his hip. She wanted to feel more of him, wanted to glide her hands over the silk he was wearing. So, she tugged him close until his body was pressed against her. Her hands slipped over the silk again until she cupped his ass firmly once again and squeezed. “Sometimes I wish I was a man.” Her voice had dropped a little roughened with desire.

Anders chuckled, “What?”

“I think if I were a man, I would very much like to fuck you. To get you on all fours and stare at your gorgeous ass as I took you.” Anders in those trousers made her very suddenly understand the appeal of taking someone from behind.

He raised a curious brow, “And what makes you think that it wouldn’t be the other way around?”

“I’ve been a woman for…all my life, why would I want the same thing if I were suddenly a man.” She canted her head, thoughtful for a moment, “Have you ever been with a man like that, Anders? Have you ever let a man take you?” She found it very hard to imagine Anders submitting to anyone like that.

“It’s the past Sekhmet.” He said quietly.

Sekhmet let go of him and nodded. She shouldn’t have asked. What if someone had forced themselves on him? “Right, sorry. Are you about ready?” She stepped away heading towards the bedroom door. She really did need to have Bodahn go to Sebastian if he wasn’t already waiting for her downstairs.

Anders’ quickly turned back to the looking glass. She watched him as he checked himself over. His golden hair was tied carefully back and it was all combed neatly into submission, his boots were flawless. His clothes were all neat, and tailored perfectly. Could he see what she did? Could he see how utterly gorgeous he was?

At last he turned back to her with a soft sigh, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

********

Anders stood off to the side of the room watching Sekhmet. They had barely made it through the door when she was swept away by older women, all more than eager to introduce her to their sons. Sekhmet nodded and tried to be polite but Anders could see the strain on her face. He hadn’t wanted to make a scene and so had stood back letting her mingle without him in the way.

He wondered if the nobles always acted this way with Sekhmet at these parties or if it was because she had a new escort this evening. A brief vision of Sebastian and Sekhmet swept away in opposing tides filled his head. Sebastian beleaguered by eager young women all night and Sekhmet by eager young men. 

He had no way of knowing whether it was true or not, but it didn’t stop him from feeling bad for both of them. Neither wanted the attention. But Anders and Varric had both pushed them to attend these parties; it helped the city to see the Champion out and about. And the nobles of the city had money and power, and friends in high places. All of which were good things to have in a city like Kirkwall.

Seeing her now, her eyes scanning the room from time to time looking for him made Anders regret pushing her into coming to these wretched things. He gave her reassuring smiles that she didn’t return. As yet another man was paraded in front of her Anders decided to rescue her, in all honesty he hadn’t expected her to be able to remain civil for so long, but apparently her mother had given her a few lessons on high society. Not to mention, she was obviously behaving for his benefit. 

Anders had always thought her bad mood when she came home from these events was a show, to make him feel better. He could see they really did make her miserable. Anders retrieved two goblets of wine and made his way through the crowd to Sekhmet. 

With the noble woman speaking animatedly at her and the noble’s son staring at her star struck, Anders moved up behind Sekhmet and pressed close. He wanted to give her a break, to show she wasn’t available. Could he manage intimate without being possessive, like he was a stand in for Sebastian? 

He chastely kissed her cheek, “Hello, darling, sorry I was gone for so long; you know how these things are. Here’s the wine you wanted.” He held out the goblet to her as he moved to stand beside her, he nodded to both of the nobles. “Thank you for keeping her occupied while I fetched some refreshment.”

The woman and her son were both staring in shock. “Oh, who is…” the woman stammered a little flushed.

Anders made a slight bow, “You may call me Anders, serrah.”

The noble woman still seemed shocked, “Well, it’s nice to meet a friend of the Champion, of course.”

Sekhmet seemed to have had enough dancing around the point. “Sweet Anders is so much more than a friend. Anders is my paramour, my live in lover.”

Anders almost groaned, so much for being the friendly affectionate stand in for Sebastian. For a moment he thought the noble woman was going to choke but her son smiled brilliantly. He reached for Anders’ hand and shook it. Anders let him awkwardly, not sure what it was all about. 

“So nice to meet you, Serrah. I…” he stopped and tossed his mother an anxious glance. “I hope to speak with you again soon.” He took his mother gently by her upper arm steering her away, “Come mother, let the Champion spend some time with her lover.”

“Don’t call him that.” His mother hissed quietly.

Sekhmet laughed but covered her mouth quickly to try to quiet the sound. She turned to Anders and stood on her toes to kiss him, slinking her arms around his neck. A little reluctantly at first he parted his lips for her. She clung to him a long time exploring his mouth with hers.

When she broke the kiss Anders was watching her with amusement. The proverbial cat was really out of the bag now. “I think they got the message, dear.”

“Good, about bloody time.” She scowled, “I can’t tell you how many times I told them I was here with someone and they all acted like they were deaf. It was ridiculous. I thought I was going to have to pry one boy’s hands off mine with a lever.” 

Anders sighed, “You know what you’ve done, right?”

She nodded, “I told Bodahn to let Sebastian know before we left.”

A flash of irritation swept through Anders, “So, you knew you were going to blow our little story before we even got here?”

She bit her lip, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I suspected.”

“Dammit, Sekhmet. Do you know what they’re going to say about you? They’re going to say you’re catting around on Sebastian. Is that really what you wanted people to think, after we worked so hard to ingratiate you to them?” All the time she’d spent going to these parties was a waste now.

She stiffened at that, and he saw the first sparks of anger in her gaze. “I’d rather be your mistress than his wife. Don’t you get that? I don’t give a fuck what these idiots think. Besides, I think you’re attributing a conscience to them that they lack.” She looked around the room, “They love good gossip, and we just gave them the mother lode.”

He had no response to that, and it didn’t matter. It was too late now. They would have to wait and see what happened and play the cards they were dealt. 

Looking around the room to see how many people were whispering he caught sight of the noble’s son who had just escorted his mother away. The young man kept turning back to look at them, at first Anders thought he was watching Sekhmet, then he realized the boy was staring at him. “Well, that’s not good.”

“I think someone has a crush.” Sekhmet purred.

Anders shook his head, if only it was so simple. “No, he knows who I am. I think I’ve seen him in Darktown a time or two now that I look at him. This could be disastrous for the both of us.”

“He didn’t seem like he was keen on letting others know who you were. Besides, the infamous Anders has worshippers all his own.” She didn’t seem to understand how bad things could get for them if the boy knew who he was.

He felt anxiety creeping back in, “I’m not a bloody folk hero, Sekhmet.”

“Aren’t you?” She held up her hand and began ticking things off. “You save those less fortunate than yourself. You risk your life to save the oppressed. You heal the sick without thought for yourself and without payment. And your strength rallies people to your cause. Sounds like a ‘bloody folk hero’ to me.”

“Do you know what happens to folk heroes?” He tried to keep his voice low, but the idea of himself as a hero of sorts in his own right was terrifying. “They get captured and killed; their heads set on pikes to deter others from following in their footsteps.”

Sekhmet stroked his cheek gently, “Don’t they ever get the girl, ride off into the sunset?”

Anders stared down into her eyes which were watching him so intently. He should just lie to her and tell her what she wanted to hear, but he wasn’t that sort of man. “Only if they’re on the run.”

Unexpectedly, Sekhmet smiled, “It’s a date then.”

Now he was just confused, “What’s a date?”

“You and I running off into the sunset.”

“You don’t want a life on the run.” Anders spoke softly, the bodies around them jostling them from time to time as people made the rounds of the party.

“I would take a lifetime in prison if you were beside me. I would welcome the hangman’s noose if you were beside me.” She stepped closer to him as someone pressed past her. “I would spend every day of my life fighting and running, as long as you were by my side.”

Anders felt his gut tighten. Her gaze was so intense; he knew she meant every word of it. He wasn’t sure whether he was glad or frightened that she really did understand what life with him might very well mean. It had been easier when he had thought she was planning on this romantic ideal with him, though, he supposed, in her own way she was.

The idea of them always being together was more than a little idealistic, even being married as they were. Not that he would be unhappy if they were always together, always facing the world side by side. Anders just knew the world was seldom that kind. Even Sareyna and Alistair had been separated, two people who he had thought nothing could separate, and even more surprising had been Zevran leaving them both.

The world was not kind, nor even friendly. She was an angry and jealous creature having been separated from her own love she did not want others to have the joy that was denied her.

Sekhmet touched his hand gently, “Anders, where did you go?”

He blinked, coming back to himself and away from such dreary thoughts. “What?”

“You were just a million miles away.” A soft smile touched her lips.

“I was,” he looked up and saw that people were clearing off the floor. “Would you like to dance?” He wanted a little joy back, and her in his arms would fit the bill nicely.

Sekhmet looked at him, surprise on her face, “You dance?”

Anders smirked and leaned into her ear, “A wise man once told me that you could discern all you needed to know about a potential bedmate by how they dance. If they cannot do one, they cannot do the other.”

She giggled a wonderfully girlish sound. “So, you must be an amazing dancer.”

Anders chuckled, “Perhaps.” He held out his hand to her, she took it and followed him to the dance floor.

********

Sekhmet was giddy, and flushed with excitement and more than a little arousal. Anders was a superb dancer, and once she’d relaxed and let him lead they had flowed elegantly across the floor. And his ideas regarding sex and dancing must have been tightly meshed. They had only been on the floor a few minutes when he began touching her and whispering in her ear, tantalizing her.

Anders spinning her across the floor and all those illicit touches where almost anyone could see, it was more fun than she’d ever had dancing before. He would spin her and caress her breasts; his hand would slide down to fondle her ass or her bare leg through the slit in her dress. And his mouth, he whispered such raunchy things in her ear. Finally, he dragged her off the dance floor, his eyes dark and wanting.

He pulled her out into a darkened hallway, moving so quickly she nearly had to run to keep up with his long legs. Anders found a little alcove, partially covered with a curtain. He shoved it aside and dragged her in, “This is going to have to do, I can’t wait anymore.” He growled as he pushed her into the darkened corner and slipped his hand into the long slit of her skirt.

He pushed two fingers quickly into her, and a sexy smile settled over those beautifully sculpted lips of his, one that looked a lot like satisfaction. He could bring her to her knees with that smile; it was too gorgeous for words. “Always ready for me, my little lioness, always so wet and ready.”

It made her heart stutter in her chest when he spoke to her like that, that deep purring voice. Surely he learned it from a desire demon, a voice to heat her blood and make her needy. She tugged impatiently at his laces and he let her, watching her with those darkened brown eyes as he held her in the corner, his fingers slipping in and out of her making her knees weak.

He teased her upper lip with the very tip of his tongue, darting out, brushing against her briefly before retreating. Leaving her open mouthed and gasping, desperate for his kiss. She chased after his lips, so hungry and wanting, but he just teased her, brief touches and light little licks.

His laces finally free she shoved his trousers out of the way, reaching in to grasp him. He backed away from her a little, “No, not yet. First pull down your corset, let me see your tits, they’ve been bound too tightly all night.”

She didn’t hesitate, eagerly offering up her breasts to him. Maker, what was she doing? The two of them weren’t exactly hidden; anyone who came down the hall would get a fairly good look at the two of them. Yet, if he’d asked her to strip naked she would have done it for him.

His mouth immediately latched onto one of her nipples while he gripped the other one between his finger and thumb. The hand between her legs shifted and he began to rub her clit back and forth. Her skin was hot, her insides lighting up like lava. A picture flashed across her mind, her skin opening like Anders’ when Justice took over, but she was hot, red flames and scorching fire.

Anders groaned and pulled his head back, her nipple slipping from his lips. “What?? What was…”

She grabbed him and kissed him. Damned mage was always thinking too much. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled herself up to wrap her leg around his waist and ground her sex against his crotch.

Anders hissed against her mouth. Gripping her hip he shifted until his cock was pressing against her. Sekhmet tilted her hips and started pushing down onto him and she didn’t stop until he was completely inside of her. 

He tore his mouth away from hers and nipped at her ear. “My little lioness is hungry tonight.” He pulled out and pushed back into her. She heard his teeth snap together close to her neck. “I want to mark you in the worst way.”

Instead, he pulled back and bent his head taking her nipple back into his mouth. He bit it less than gently and it was enough to push her over the edge after all the teasing. She grabbed his hair and pulled it as her heel dug into his back and she came, her sex squeezing his cock inside of her.

Anders growled against her breast, his hips moving faster. Sweet Andraste, he was going to make her cum again if he didn’t let up. He let go of her nipple only to bite the other one while his hips continued thrusting against her. She’d barely finished her first orgasm when he ground his teeth back and forth a little, thrusting her abruptly to another peak.

One that ended suddenly when he pulled his mouth away from her nipple, “Sekhmet, you have to stop pulling my hair.” His nostrils were flaring and his fingers were digging into her hip, as he growled at her through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to hurt you love, let me go.”

Reluctantly, she let his hair go. One of these days she was going to get Anders to let loose completely. Calmer, he began kissing her neck, nuzzling the skin as he chased after his own orgasm. Sekhmet squeezed her sex tight around him, and slid her hand into the open neck of his tunic wanting to touch his skin.

She felt the first tell tale tingles of Anders’ magic. At least he still seemed to be enjoying himself. Her attention was suddenly pulled away from Anders by the sound of running footsteps.

Anders either didn’t notice, or didn’t care but the tingles disappeared. Sekhmet tried her best to cover herself as the steps came closer, making a poor job of it. She felt herself flush when the Knight Captain of Kirkwall looked around the curtain.

Anders finally shifted, standing up straighter. He smirked at Cullen, “Something I can help you with Knight Captain?”

Cullen took a good look, eyes moving over her still mostly exposed breasts before he rolled his eyes, “Should have figured it was you, Anders.” With that he turned away and headed back to the party.

“Anders, put me down.” She was mortified that Cullen had just seen so much of her.

Anders smiled and rolled his hips, “Shh, stop acting like you’re mad.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “If part of you didn’t like it you wouldn’t still be so wet.” 

She wanted to be angry, to be furious with him. But, the bastard was right. As embarrassed as she was part of her was also very turned on. “You’re a bastard.” She huffed.

Anders flexed his muscles making his cock move inside of her, “Guilty as charged.” He kissed her lips quickly. “Now, do you want to ride me until I finish, or should I call Cullen back to watch me fuck you some more?”

She felt her sex clench involuntarily.

Anders chuckled, “Oh, you kinky little vixen.” He rocked his hips against her, “How about we just imagine Cullen watching?”

She didn’t want to imagine Cullen standing there watching them. Or, at least she didn’t want to want it. All the same she found herself thrusting back against Anders in moments. What in the world was wrong with her? 

She was surprised when Anders came just a few minutes later. And even more surprised when he managed to get her to cum again with him. Anders pulled out of her slowly, and kissed her softly.

[Click here to return to DA](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-Take-My-Hand-424018563)

When he broke away from the kiss his eyes were downcast. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you. You get used to people watching you in the tower, you learn to make it part of the fun. I should have stopped, should have covered you up better.”

She shrugged not wanting him to start beating himself up over desires that were normal to him because of his past. Besides, she really wasn’t all that upset. It had been strange and exhilarating. “Don’t worry about it. Although, it does make me wonder about Cullen. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s following you all across Thedas. Maybe a little unrequited love?” She giggled.

“Andraste’s tits, don’t even suggest such a thing.” He shuddered and set her on the ground helping her to straighten out her clothes. After a moment he took a step back, “Well, you look presentable if a little rumpled. Sorry, but I’m pretty sure you’re going to set tongues wagging again if we go back in there.”

She smirked, “Good, let’s give them something good to gossip about. I’ll do my mandatory round of good-byes and we’ll get out of here.”

“I’ll go get your cloak while you attend to your adoring public.” He kissed her once more and they headed down the hall.

She’d barely stepped into the ballroom when Cullen stepped in front of her, his hand gripping her wrist harshly. His eyes were angry, “I hope you don’t think he truly cares for you, Champion. Anders uses sex like other people use coin. You give him something he needs, and he’s paying you for it, as simple as that.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience, Knight Captain.” She wondered how close to the truth that might actually be. What he sounded like was a scorned lover. Had Cullen and Anders been intimate in the past?

The Knight Captain just snorted and walked away.

********

Anders, Sekhmet’s cloak now in hand, returned to the ballroom. Sekhmet was on the other side of the room still making her round of farewells. He leaned against the door watching her with a smile. Not only did she look incredible in that dress, she had looked incredible half out of it as well.

Cullen disrupted his pleasant little revelry, his voice full of disdain. “So, you already have her fooled. You were always too charming for your own good, Anders.”

Sekhmet looked up then, as if she had sensed someone talking about her. When she saw Cullen standing next to Anders she quickly looked away. Seemed the Knight Captain had done something to upset Sekhmet. “And what kind of nonsense were you spouting at her?”

“Nonsense?” Cullen sneered, “No, just the truth, of the type of man you really are. Unfortunately for her, she believes your affections are real, that you’re not just a whore paying your way the only way you can.”

There was so much vitriol on Anders’ tongue. But he wouldn’t explain himself to Cullen, a confused child of a man who couldn’t even understand himself. Instead, he gave the Knight Captain a gentle warning. “You should stay away from us, Cullen.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Anders glanced around the room then was struck with an idea, one that almost made him laugh. His darling Sekhmet was so clever and had given him the answer. “Are there more Templars here?”

“Why would I tell you that?” But his gaze flicked away for a second telling Anders there were other Templars at the party.

He suppressed a grin. “And do they know who I am?”

Cullen set his jaw, stubbornly and didn’t respond. Chances were though that if there were other Templars there, they knew who he was. Anders moved quickly, stepping forward, until his body was touching Cullen’s as much as was possible while he still had Sekhmet’s cloak over his arm.

He carded his fingers quickly into Cullen’s short curly hair and gripped his head, pulling it forward and kissed Cullen soundly. When the Templar gasped in shock Anders pressed his advantage and swept his tongue inside Cullen’s lyrium sweet mouth. The Knight Captain must have been more surprised than Anders thought because he didn’t fight Anders at all.

And Anders, gracious man he was, used magic on his enthralled Templar, the same kind he’d used on Sekhmet once that had nearly sent her into an orgasmic seizure. The magic caressed Cullen, stirring pleasure. Anders almost crowed in triumph as Cullen groaned and pressed against Anders, clutching at his shoulder and pressing his erection against Anders’ thigh.

Before Cullen could regain his senses Anders released him and walked away, swatting him on the ass and winking as he strolled past him, calling out loudly enough for several party goers to overhear. “See you later, Captain.” 

He looked to Sekhmet, worried for a moment about how she would respond, he should have known better. She was smiling, looking as amused as he felt. Cullen was still standing near the door, trousers tented, eyes glazed and slack jawed.

And as he glanced around the room he made note of all the faces glaring angrily at Cullen. While most of the people who had seen the kiss were surprised, or amused, the Templars gave themselves away with their fury. Their Knight Captain had just been kissed by a mage, an apostate and had clearly enjoyed it. He’d be lucky if he was able to stay a Templar, let alone keep his title.

Sekhmet stepped beside him, still smiling. “And on that note, perhaps we should head out.”

Anders draped her cloak over her shoulders and held out his arm for her. “It was certainly an interesting party.”

She giggled as they headed out, “And you were worried about them gossiping about me. I have a feeling you’re going to be the talk of Kirkwall for a while after that kiss.”

As they stepped into the cool night air Anders snickered. “I’m sure the gossip is going to be something along the lines of the two of us deserving each other.”

She shook her head, “Poor Sebastian. The women will be lining up to try to mend his broken heart.”


	58. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please STOP and READ this warning!!! Please be aware that this chapter deals with several disturbing issues including rape, abortion and graphic violence. If these things are triggering for you please do not read this chapter.

The sun had been down for hours now, yet Anders and Sekhmet were still seated on the floor of their bedroom. Between them was the map of the city covered in glyphs. The two of them sat amidst an ocean of research, books and notes scattered about them as the two of them tried to puzzle out what exactly the glyphs meant. So far they were not happy with any of the prospects. Anders stretched and sat back; sick of all of the awful things the city might have been built for. 

Seeing Sekhmet, bathed in the soft glow from the fire made him smile. She was wearing one of his tunics with the sleeves rolled up. It was so long it looked like a dress on her small frame. Her white hair was hooked around behind her ears as she chewed on the pendant of her necklace, reading one of the books she had purchased specifically for this research. The firelight danced over her skin, catching the pale hue of her eyes. She looked studious, preoccupied and just the slightest bit vulnerable.

In other words, she was beautiful. 

What an incredible woman was his little lioness? She could kill a bandit in the blink of an eye, or could hold her own against a scholar. Such a fascinating creature, he was quite possibly the luckiest man in existence to be able to share this life with her, to be allowed an invitation to stand beside her and delude himself into thinking he was her equal.

Their life had been so much better than he had hoped. Yes, filled with foolish mistakes and pain from time to time. But, there was love, and comfort, and peace he hadn’t dared dream of. They both knew those moments were probably fleeting, but they were both trying so hard to hang on to them for now. 

He watched her reading, her eyes racing back and forth across the pages, her teeth worrying the small silver pendant around her neck. And a familiar fantasy flitted through his imagination, her, his beautiful wife round with his child. No matter how good things were, no matter how great their life was he kept coming back to that. He wanted children, and he wanted them with her.

They’d been living in this blessed cocoon for a few months, both of them ignoring all the odd things that had been happening between them. And there were things they needed to talk about. Like his magic, how he touched her with it, how it seemed to seek out her skin without him consciously doing it.

And how he could always feel her now, something had happened right around the time they had gotten married. It was strange, but it was good. Well, good for him. He knew she was alright because he could feel it. So, he didn’t worry nearly so much about her. But what would happen if and when she was hurt? 

Then there was Justice. The spirit had been silent all this time. Whether that boded ill or not, Anders didn’t know, nor did he care. He was just glad for this unspoiled time with Sekhmet.

But, there were things he’d promised to tell her and hadn’t yet. So many things he had been pushing off. Telling her about Zevran was just one of them. She deserved to know, as unlikely as it was that they would ever meet.

Yet, he found himself falling back into what he had been doing since they had gotten married. He pushed all of those things aside and just enjoyed being with her. Didn’t they deserve as much happiness as they could manage to wring from life?

Reality would rip it from them sooner or later, was it any surprise he wanted it to be later? 

It wasn’t as if he and Sekhmet hadn’t been working hard lately. Each day the two of them went to the clinic for a few hours before they went out with the others and tackled the huge stack of requests for help piled on the downstairs writing desk. Everyone met in Varric’s suite every morning. Well almost everyone. Isabela was conspicuously absent and Aveline had her own list to deal with.

Sekhmet and Varric would decide who would work on what for the day and split the group accordingly. By the time they staggered home each day they were all exhausted. Or, at least, mostly exhausted. Sekhmet still occasionally insisted on hunting afterwards. Without Justice to hunt with her she was very different, subdued, quick and efficient. The Templars almost never saw her coming. 

In the evening Sekhmet helped Fenris with his reading while Anders helped Orana and Sandal with their education. And at night, they worked on this, Anders’ manifesto forgotten in the excitement of Sekhmet’s discovery. 

They made love whenever they felt like it, anywhere they felt like it. Cullen and the nobles knew their secret so there was no sense in hiding the fact they were lovers anymore. The freedom that had given them…Anders was amazed daily by what a sensual woman Sekhmet was. 

She denied him nothing, indulged him in any fantasy he had the courage to ask. And she was just starting to ask him for things as well. Anders kept himself tightly in check, gentle and loving, sweet and kind. Reminding himself that she wasn’t just any other lover, but someone he loved and treasured. But, even within those boundaries there was so much he’d never done, never dared, never imagined.

Life was good. Moments like now he remembered his time at the Keep, remembered watching Sareyna and Alistair and eventually Zevran. He’d been so sure moments like this would never happen for him.

Thinking of Sareyna and Alistair made him think of Trelain. He wondered how the boy was doing and what kind of person he was turning into. And who would he take after more now, Sareyna or Alistair or maybe even Zevran?

Anders sighed, him being a parent was ridiculous. It had been ridiculous when he had confessed the desire to Sareyna and it was even more ridiculous now. So, why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? _“Ask her”_. The quiet thought tiptoed across his mind. 

Maybe asking wasn’t such a bad idea. He’d ask, she’d say no and then hopefully he could finally move on and forget the asinine notion. If he just heard her say no, if he knew she absolutely didn’t want a child it would make it easier for him.

He felt anxiety trying to crawl over him like a heavy cloak. Why was he doing this? It could get ugly really quickly. 

Wanting a child was such a selfish thing. It reeked of the Anders he had thought he’d left behind. The one he’d thought the Templars had killed when they collared him like a mabari. 

Without meaning to he found his fingers moving to the tattoo around his neck, touching it lightly. Pain and anger flickered in his consciousness for a second, like the gritting of teeth. He dropped his hand, forcing himself to relax, to enjoy being here with his wife.

Sekhmet must have sensed a change in him because she suddenly looked up, “What?”

He smiled at her tenitively, “Hey, how are you?”

“Uhm, I’m okay…why?”

He pushed ahead, “Can we talk?” _“Why am I doing this? My selfishness brings me nothing but pain.”_

She sat up, dropping her pendant and looking more serious, “Well, that certainly sounds ominous.”

Anders moved, wanting to be closer to her. “Relax, please, you’re making me nervous.” He fought the urge to pull her into his lap. She was usually fairly indulgent about him manhandling her all the time, but he didn’t want to chance irritating her.

She quirked an eyebrow, “I’m making you nervous?”

“I’m sorry.” Compromising, he took her hand he held it in his own, deciding to be straight forward. “Have you ever thought about having children?”

Pain flashed across her face before she bowed her head and pulled her hand free, “No Anders, I don’t want children.”

Anders felt himself almost crushed under a wave of disappointment. He’d been expecting her to say no, even so it hadn’t mitigated his hope as much as he’d expected. Gently, his hand ghosted across her back, “Can we talk about this, please?” He’d meant to drop it but the pain, both his and hers had peaked his interest.

Sekhmet abruptly stood up, “No.” She crossed to the fire place. 

Surprised, Anders followed her, confused by her absolute refusal to so much as look at him. He stood behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her close against him. Even when she was the reason his heart was aching she was the only balm that soothed him. “What’s wrong my love? I wasn’t trying to upset you.” 

“Nothing,” the word was clipped, “I’m just not interested in having children. Can you for one second imagine me as a mother? I’d be a terrible mother; I’d end up getting the kid killed or something.” But there was no emotion behind it, the delivery oddly flat and quick as if it was a recitation.

“Why does it sound like you’ve said that a time or two before?” He was asking for trouble and knew it but couldn’t seem to stop. Did he really want a child this badly? And why was it suddenly a pressing issue?

Sekhmet suddenly stiffened in his arms, her voice rising in irritation. “Why are we even discussing this? We spend almost everyday fighting bandits or Templars or whoever else crosses our path.” She jerked angrily away from him again.

He was surprised by the sudden vehemence of her anger. “Whoa, hey why are you yelling at me?”

“You always have to push things, Anders.” She snapped.

Anders felt irritation prickle at him. Apparently, old habits died hard. “I’m not pushing anything. I asked you a question, that’s all. You’re being hysterical.”

Sekhmet snorted, “Here we go, yeah, blame this all on me.”

Anders took her hand, calming himself as he walked Sekhmet to a chair and pushed her down into it. Once he was sure his irritation was gone he knelt in front of her, holding her down. “Something is obviously wrong here. Tell me why you’re so upset about this.”

Sekhmet wouldn’t look at him for several long seconds. When she realized he wasn’t going to let her go she hung her head and shook it slowly, her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke. “It doesn’t matter Anders, I can’t have children anyways.”

Anders scowled, “Who told you that?” She’d never mentioned anything like that before. But, who was he to judge? He had a secret of his own in that department to share with her didn’t he?

She looked up at him incredulously, “We’ve been together almost every night for more than a year and I’ve never…”

“We’ve never really tried.” Anders voice became quiet, time to confess the truth to her.

Sekhmet took a ragged breath, on the verge of crying. “I think…I think I might be damaged.”

Anders brushed a tear from her cheek, guilt, that old familiar friend, gnawing at him. He’d made her doubt herself again. “Listen, it’s probably my fault, there’s something I should have told you a long time ago. It’s hard for Grey Warden’s to have children, most are never able to after they take the Joining.”

Sekhmet furrowed her brow, “So, it’s not me?”

“Probably not, as I understand it, it takes magic,” which was yet another reason why it was a foolish idea. He watched her as her face vacillated back and forth between anguish and fear. “Sekhmet?”

“Could,” she paused and licked her lips nervously before continuing, “Could you check, Anders?”

She wasn’t exactly crying and she wasn’t angry. That was a step in the right direction, wasn’t it? “What do you want me to check for, my love?” He was sick of the two of them tripping over each other’s secrets.

A fresh tear slipped down her cheek, “Can you check if I’m damaged? See if I could carry a child?”

Anders nodded, if it would put her mind at ease it was worth it. At least he could undo the doubt he’d planted in her head this time. He placed his hand low over her abdomen, his healer’s sight easily seeing into her womb. As he checked her his breath caught and he froze for a moment before looking up at Sekhmet again, what the…? 

She pushed his hand away and pulled her feet onto the chair wrapping her arms around her knees. “Don’t tell me, please.” Her tears were coming in a steady stream now as she took deep breaths obviously trying to calm herself.

“How…” He swallowed and tried again, sweet Maker, he hadn’t been prepared for that at all. “How far along were you when you lost it?” His voice was kind and gentle but his hands were shaking, it had never occurred to him that she might have been pregnant before.

Sekhmet buried her head between her arms and sobbed brokenly. Anders pulled her out of the chair; she didn’t seem to have the will to resist. Sitting down he pulled her into his lap, hoping she got at least a fraction of the comfort from it he did, and held her while she cried. He stroked her hair and waited for her to calm a bit. 

She…she’d been pregnant, had carried another man’s child. How? Who? It felt like his chest was being squeezed by a tight band. Someone, some man had gotten her with child. He knew, of course, that she hadn’t been a maiden before him. But, that she had been close enough to another man to carry his child, the idea made him sick, especially when she refused to carry his.

He couldn’t focus on that, couldn’t think about her like that, with someone else. Couldn’t think about her having a life with someone before him, it made him hurt. He focused on her, on her pain; she clearly needed him right now.

Finally, she wiped her eyes and took a few shaky breaths. She still wouldn’t look at him, but at least she wasn’t making those broken sounds anymore. He stroked her hair trying to calm her, trying to calm himself.

Softly, he kissed the top of her head; he was supposed to be easing her doubt, not wallowing in his own. “Sekhmet, you can still have children. There’s very little damage.”

She took a halting breath, “But, you…”

Nearly had an apoplexy? He certainly had. He hadn’t seen that one coming. “Forgive me, I was surprised. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he shook his head, “the thought just never occurred to me that you might have carried a child before.”

Sekhmet gave a sharp bark of self deprecating laughter. “I didn’t carry it. I killed it.”

Anders furrowed his brows. That was an odd remark even for someone who blamed herself as often as Sekhmet did. “Sometimes miscarriages just happen.”

Sekhmet shook her head and stood up moving a few steps away from him. “It was oil of savin.” Another whisper, and a sound he rarely heard from Sekhmet…shame.

Anders felt like someone had punched him square in the gut, a sudden tightening of the muscles across his abdomen, his lungs feeling like they had momentarily seized. All he could do was stare at her for a minute. She stood stock still with her back to him; her shoulders hunched a little like she was curling in on herself for protection. 

Anders felt like he was drowning as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Shock quickly gave way to anger then revulsion; he tried to hold himself in check as he processed what she had said. “Why?” He tried to keep the sound of accusation out of his voice, but to intentionally kill a child, it was unthinkable.

She wrapped her arms tight around herself. “Does it matter?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

Anders stood up, his anger pushing at him again, Justice screaming to come to the fore, to punish her for murdering a child. Of course Justice spoke up now, suddenly wanted to be included. “It does to me. I need to know why the woman I love would murder an innocent child.”

He saw her change, saw her body language shift from fragile and sheltering herself to irritation. She spun, fury in her eyes. “It wasn’t your child; it’s none of your business.”

Anders crossed to her in two steps, gripping her upper arm tight. Oh, he had to get his anger under control before he or Justice did something stupid. This was the first stirring he’d even felt of the spirit in ages and it was boiling with rage. “And if it was my child? Would you kill my child too?”

She tried to pull out of his grip but he just tightened it, struggling between his need to know and his need to protect her. Her clear blue eyes glared up at him trying to get him to back down. This was too important, he couldn’t let it go. He wasn’t going to relent. 

He had a right to know; they had sex incredibly frequently and used no sort of prophylaxis. What if she got pregnant on accident? Would she just kill his child, possibly his only chance to ever have one? Would she murder a child they created together? “I want an answer.” Anger and the bitter taste of fear swam through him, making his words terse.

He held her gaze as she struggled against his grip trying to free herself. Finally, she stopped fighting him her body seemed to loose its rigidity all at once as she buried her face in his chest, curling her free arm up between their torsos. She shook her head and her body trembled as she started to cry again.

“No,” she whispered, “never, I would never…” her words were choked off by her tears.

“Why, Sekhmet, why would you do that, make me understand.” Dammit, her tears tugged hard at that need to protect her, the need to take care of her. He wanted to hold her, to console her, but he was still too horrified by her confession. It took all of his control not to let Justice throw her across the room. Anders needed to hear it all, needed to try to understand why she would do something so awful.

“It’s the past,” again that broken whisper.

Anders shook his head, this wasn’t a damn game and as far as he was concerned that rule was null and void at this point. “You’re not pulling that bullshit this time.”

She looked up at him with tears still slipping down her cheeks. “It’s not bullshit, it was an agreement we made. I don’t ask about your past, you don’t ask about mine.”

He tried to soften his tone; his anger was just making her defensive. “You volunteered what you did; now I need you to explain it to me. I need to understand.”

Sekhmet looked down at the floor and another tear slipped down her face. “I need to sit, please.”

Anders released her arm and she sat on the floor pulling her knees up against her chest again. He sat down across from her and stopped himself from reaching out for her hand. She looked fragile and that need to protect her, to make everything better screamed inside of him.

“I was young, stupid, arrogant.” She paused and took a deep breath, fortifying herself. “There was a boy I used to spar with, I always beat him. I was faster with my blades, but liked to spar with him.” She tucked her hair behind one ear as she continued to stare at the floor.

Her voice was nearly monotone like the emotion had drained out her completely. “He was cute and I liked flirting with him. Papa warned me about teasing boys, but I was better than he was, wasn’t worried. I thought no matter what trouble I got into my weapons would save me. Arrogant, I was so arrogant.”

Anders felt queasy. He suddenly realized what had happened and why she was detaching herself from her story. “He raped you?”

Sekhmet shrugged eyes still on the floor. “We had been kissing, touching, just exploring. I was a virgin and thought he was too. I just turned fifteen and being attracted to boys was new to me. I was curious. When he tried to put his hand inside my trousers I pushed him away.”

Anders’ mouth went dry, he suddenly regretted asking her. He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to hear that someone had forced himself onto his wife. In the Circle, he’d known too many who had been raped, and knew what it did to them emotionally, knew what kind of devastation it wrought in their lives.

“He hit me,” Sekhmet closed her eyes and shook her head as if in disbelief, “he must have hit me pretty hard, I don’t really remember anything for a bit after that. The next thing I remember he had me face down on the ground, naked from the waist down and he held my arm wrenched up behind my back.”

She shuddered and tightened her arms around her knees; her eyes were eons away even as the odd monotone continued. “He was heavy, I could barely breathe. I felt him inside of me and started to panic. I fought, tried to get loose…he was too big.” Her breath hitched, she was losing the detachment, unable to maintain it as she gave him details. “He smashed my face down, busted my nose.” Tears were flowing down her cheeks again. “I fought so hard, but couldn’t get him off me.” Her breath hitched again, “He laughed at me.”

Sekhmet was quiet for a minute as she reined her emotions back in. “I dislocated my shoulder trying to get away. When he left I sat up and…there was blood in the dirt, not a lot, but…” She closed her eyes for a moment, “It was my virginity, my maidenhood lying there…nothing but a scarlet streak in the dirt. A fitting place for my maidenhood to lie, lost by my foolishness.”

Maker’s breath how could she think that she somehow deserved what had been done to her? He tried to take her hand, to console her at least a little but she wouldn’t let him, pulling it away. Maybe she needed to stay alone until this was done. “Sekhmet, you don’t have…”

But she kept going, almost as if she hadn’t heard him. “I was afraid of what papa would think. I hurried to get home so he wouldn’t worry. I didn’t know how long I had been unconscious. I remember it took me forever to get dressed, my arm wouldn’t work right. The walk home felt like it was miles and miles.” Phrase after phrase stumbling from her lips, her voice with no inflection, like she was cataloging boring things instead of recounting a tale of stolen innocence and self worth. 

Was this the start then? He’d thought it had been her father’s death that had made her think of herself so poorly. Was it this boy’s actions that made her use the term whore so loosely, that made her think she wasn’t good enough? Anders was astounded and horrified by both her tale and its possible repercussions. “What happened to the boy?” He very much hoped Malcolm had fried the little asshole.

Sekhmet looked up at him; her eyes were dull and very tired looking. “Nothing.”

That couldn’t be right. There was absolutely no way the Malcolm Hawke he had heard so much about would have let someone do that to his little girl and get away with it. “Didn’t the guards arrest him or something?”

She shook her head, “I never told anyone, Anders.”

“What? How did you explain your nose, your shoulder, didn’t your parents wonder where you got those?”

“I told them I had gotten into a fight with an older boy.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t important. “It wasn’t really a lie. I often got into fights. Papa healed me. I just tried to forget it ever happened.”

“Maker Sekhmet, that must have been awful.” He wanted to hold her so bad, he moved forward but she drew away from him. “I’m so sorry.” Anders couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be touched after reliving that memory.

She shrugged again. “When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I couldn’t carry the baby.” Her eyes squeezed shut tight, “For so many reasons, I was too young, it would embarrass my family, and I would have to explain how I had gotten with child to begin with or at least name the father.” She relaxed again, slumping a little, eyes still closed but not squeezed anymore. “I mean I would either have been married to the man who attacked me or I would have had to rope some poor soul into a lie.”

Sekhmet took a deep breath, “I thought I was doing the right thing at the time.”

She looked up, finally looking at him again, stepping off the island she had exiled herself to while she told him about what had happened to her. “I don’t know if I would do the same now, I’ve had a lot of years to reflect on it. At the time I was just glad that Bethany found me. No one told me about all of the bad things that happened from the oil I took.

“I had gone to the woods to take it, I just wanted it over with then I thought I would just walk home. When Bethany found me I was a mess, unconscious and convulsing, covered in blood and less pleasant things.”

Anders nodded; he knew all too well the side effects of the oil. He had helped many patients in Kirkwall who had used it for the same reason as Sekhmet had. And he had lost a few patients to the oil as well, it was nasty business. 

“Bethany healed me the best she could and helped me to the river to get cleaned up, even lied to my parents for me when we got back. She told them I had been falling down drunk when she found me. We never talked about it. I never told her why I was out there or what I had taken. I’m not even sure how it was that she found me.” A small smile ghosted across her lips, “Just one of the many times Bethany has saved my life.”

Anders wasn’t sure what to say, he had such mixed feelings. What she had done was awful, but in a way he understood it. He still couldn’t believe she had gone through it all alone, she had been so young. The two of them sat there in silence for a long time.

He wished he could have been there, that he could have saved her from such an awful fate. But, the truth was, when she was fifteen he hadn’t even escaped from the Circle for the first time. He’d just been brought in for the first time. 

The world was a frightening enough place at that age, without having to be alone. The first time he’d escaped the Tower for more than a day that had been his first realization. Being alone was terrifying. And it clawed at you, tore you up inside, filled you with doubts.

He was pretty sure the first time he’d been recaptured and taken back to the Circle that he’d allowed himself to be captured because he couldn’t take the loneliness anymore. Even the Circle seemed a better alternative at first, before he knew its darker corridors. And he’d been one of the lucky ones.

No matter what he had gone through in the Circle he’d never been raped. What might have happened if he had was anyone’s guess. He’d like to think he would have shattered that Tower, destroyed all of the Templars inside of it. But, the truth was he had been so close to breaking completely in that viper’s pit a few times, being raped might have just ended it. He might have been one of the countless mages who took his own life.

Which made Sekhmet all the more incredible. His heart ached; her life had been just as hard as his, if not worse. And still she was strong, was a force to be reckoned with when he wasn’t pushing her, wasn’t prying at old wounds.

Anders knew he should say something, or comfort her but couldn’t decide which, especially with Justice screaming _‘murderer’_ again and again. Sick of Justice’s rant Anders kindly reminded him that he’d nearly killed an innocent mage, not to mention Sekhmet on several occasions with no real provocation. And would have succeeded and been as guilty as her if someone had not interceded on each occasion. That person, more often than not, being Sekhmet herself. Justice immediately recoiled and fell silent again, slipping back into the background.

Sekhmet inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before she suddenly stood up, “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

As she strode from the room Anders jumped up, “Wait, where are you going?” He followed her out into the hall.

She gave him a small smile, “Out so you can think. I can see it on your face; you’re disgusted. It will be easier for you to decide whether to stay or not without me here.”

He sighed; she still found it hard to believe he wasn’t going to leave even with vows now between them. “I’m not leaving, Sekhmet. I told you, I’m _never_ going to leave you, not as long as you’ll have me. I love you.”

“I know what you said, Anders.” He hated that sad smile she wore as she spoke, “But I’m not going to hold you to it, especially since I kept secrets from you. It’s alright I understand.”

Anders wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “We both have enough secrets for an empire.” He lowered his head and kissed her gently. “And we’re both going to stumble along the way while we seek the light.” Sareyna may have played in the dark with Anders, but Sekhmet actually lived there with him.

He trailed kisses along her jaw and kissed right below her ear. “I love you Sekhmet, I’m not leaving you. There’s nothing you could say or do to scare me away.” He pulled back and looked at her. She opened her mouth to speak and he placed a finger over her lips, “Nothing, do you understand?”

Her eyes searched his face for a moment before she finally acquiesced and nodded.

“Good.” His chest eased a bit. There would be more moments like this, he knew, but together they would figure out how to get through them.

Sekhmet cleared her throat a little, “About having children?”

He didn’t want to think about that right now, not until he could think of her pregnant without envisioning her being found by Bethany in that forest. “We’ll deal with that another day. Why don’t you come downstairs and have a glass of wine. I’ll make something for dinner and I’ll share a confession of my own.”

Sekhmet seemed unsure for a moment but then exhaled slowly and nodded, “Alright, but you deal with Orana. You know how upset she gets when she thinks we’re taking her job away.”

Anders kissed her on the cheek, “Not a problem.” Taking her hand he led her downstairs, he pushed the thoughts of their conversation out of his mind. He really didn’t want to dwell on it. There wasn’t really anything to say anyways. He loved her, and he wasn’t about to leave her. If he wanted children it would be with her, or with no one, it was that simple.

“So, your confession is it like mine?” She asked, almost timidly, her eyes shining again.

He stroked her cheek gently, amazed she could love him that much. “Are those tears for me little lioness?” He smiled, trying to reassure her. “No one has ever forced themselves on me, Sekhmet.”

She seemed relieved, “What then?”

He slipped his hand back into hers and led her toward the kitchens. “Fulfilling a promise. I’m going to tell you about the closest I came to love before you.” He paused and looked back at her, “You asked me not so long ago if I’d ever let a man fuck me. I think it’s time I tell you about Zevran.”

********

“How could he do that? How could he just discard you for your brother?” Sekhmet couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. The relationship between Anders and Zevran had been complicated and strange. It made the convoluted love stories Varric liked to write about seem mundane.

Anders smiled at her, “He was just following his heart. He’d always loved them, he never lied about it.”

She still didn’t like it and she didn’t like this Zevran person either. “Seems cold to me.”

He shook his head, “Not at all, I think the two of you would get along famously.” He chuckled, “Talk about unleashing unholy terror on the world. The two of you would be a frightening combination.”

She shrugged, “I couldn’t be less interested in meeting him.”

Anders laughed and leaned over to kiss her. “I doubt we’ll ever cross his path, but it’s almost a shame. I think I’d like to see you together.”

She scowled at him. Anders was the most jealous person she knew and now he wanted to see her with this Zevran character who had very nearly broken his heart? “You wouldn’t be madly jealous?”

“I wasn’t thinking like that…but now that you men…Ow.” He chuckled, she’d slapped his arm.

“You’re impossible.” She felt emotionally drained, today had been a rough day for both of them. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we had good secrets instead of bad ones?”

“We do have a good secret, just not from each other. And Zevran wasn’t really a bad secret. In the end, you and I wouldn’t be together if being with him hadn’t made me want more than what I was used to.”

She shook her head, “You’re kidding me right? He’s half the reason it took us so long to get together. You were still recovering from what he did to you and it made you overly cautious. We might not ever have gotten together if I hadn’t been so helplessly hung up on you.”

Anders fell silent like the idea Zevran had been part of the problem had never occurred to him before. Even while he had been talking she’d heard the longing in his voice. Anders might think he’d never loved Zevran but he had definitely felt something and still did. And the more she thought about it the less she liked Zevran.

He dragged Anders into a crazy relationship, then threw Anders over for his brother Alistair and his wife. And then left both of them on some crazy quest against his former employer. Seemed to her people were better off without Zevran in their lives because he stayed just long enough to hurt people before moving on to his next victims. And Anders thought he was wonderful, Maker save her.

She wanted to talk about something else, anything else. “Are you tired yet, or should we try to uncover more of our dark pasts?”

Anders stretched in the chair, cracking his back before sitting up more fully. “I don’t want to say this is fun, it’s not by any stretch of the imagination. But, I think it’s rather cathartic. Can you stand more?”

Yeah, she could stand more. The more they got out into the open tonight the less they would trip on later. “Let’s go to the library, these chairs aren’t really conducive to long talks.”

Anders stood and held out his hand for her to take again. It was one of the little quirks she’d come to enjoy. Anders loved holding her hand and if she admitted it, she was rather fond of it herself.

They sat on one of the sofas in the library and he pulled her back against his chest. “I think it’s your turn, love,” he prompted gently.

She sighed, she had an idea where to go, what to tell him. It was her darkest secret after the ones she’d already confessed to him. “Shall I tell you about the Templar?”

She felt him stiffen behind her. He clearly knew exactly which one she was referring too. After a moment he shifted and settled back again. “You don’t have to. I know that stirs up a lot of bad memories.”

She shrugged, if he was thinking about having children with her let him hear about her at her worst and see what he thought then. “No, I think it’s a story you should hear. I think it will put a lot of things into perspective for you.”

“Perspective?” He queried quietly.

“Exactly. You throw that word ‘monster’ around far too lightly, my love.” She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. Yes, let him get a picture of what it truly was to be a monster, a creature of vengeance. “And remember, I have no spirit to blame, no lifetime of slavery that drove me to what I did. I have nothing other than my own vengeful heart to blame.”

He stayed silent, but she could tell he was unhappy with her, with the way she was saying it. That was fine he could be upset, as long as he understood that what followed was all on her. She didn’t want him to fear her, to dread her. She merely wanted him to understand who she really was underneath the rosy hues of love he looked at her with.

“The caravan had escaped during the fight with the bandits and I was glad it was gone. It left me alone with him. He looked around when things had fallen quiet. I could see the worry on his face when he realized the caravan was gone.”

She rolled her shoulders, relaxing into her confession. She’d never told anyone what she had done that day. “I felt completely calm when I did it.”

She felt herself smile and was almost ashamed. She shouldn’t take pleasure in reliving what she had done that day, but she did. “It was like everything got really quiet and still, a moment of perfect peace before the storm, before I took my vengeance.”

“I think I might have been half mad in those first moments, disconnected from myself a little. When he opened his mouth to talk I attacked. I knew what kinds of lies would fall from his lips: that he needed to do it, that killing my father had been his job.”

“I would have cut out his tongue but I didn’t want him to bleed out too fast. Instead, I stopped him from escaping, a few quick cuts to the right tendons and he was a limp doll. You’re a healer; you know what I’m talking about. Some of us learn anatomy for less lofty goals.”

She waited a beat to see if Anders would say anything. He stayed silent and that was just as well, her tale had barely begun. “He blubbered like a scared child as he lay all but paralyzed on the ground, and pissed himself like a child too. Maybe he saw something in my eyes that let him see what was coming. I’d barely touched him and already he was begging me to kill him, to send him to his Maker.”

She felt Anders’ slow breath against her back as she spoke, it was good, calming. Having Anders there was helping to keep the feelings muted. She licked her lips, because she was wrong, she was disturbed and what she did to that man made her feel good in wicked way because it had felt so…justified.

“I pulled off his gauntlets and then his boots as he tried to resist me with his useless limbs. I’m pretty sure I laughed at him, high and sharp, a touch hysterical. More than half mad at that point, just a hairsbreadth away, wouldn’t you say?”

Of course Anders said nothing. His breathing had changed, a little faster and there was a sharper taste of something in the air. Maybe it was just the memory; they could affect the senses in odd ways.

“He’d quieted, watching me nervously. And I liked that, I wanted him to see. I started simply enough. I cut off his thumb, the one that had held the sword he’d used to decapitate papa. I walked around him and watched and waited for him to stop screaming.

“And when he did I moved to his feet, one toe at a time, starting with the smallest on each foot. I’d only cut off four of them when he started blubbering again, praying and telling me he was sorry over and over. As if those words meant anything to me at that point. One cannot simply kill your father and expect forgiveness can they?”

“Sekhmet, it’s enough.” Anders’ voice was tight.

He didn’t like her little story, good. He wanted to see a monster? She’d show him what a real one looked like, not a spirit maddened by things it didn’t understand, but a woman who understood, a woman who had enjoyed her decent.

She wasn’t sure if she’d always been mad and just realized it that day. Maybe that would explain her father’s attentiveness, trying to keep his loon of a daughter from plaguing the world too much. It was an ugly thought, but she had to admit the possibility. Or perhaps she’d simply become mad that day, prompted by the sight of her father losing his head. Truly, it was of no matter. She’d lost her grip on sanity that day and had barely managed to retain it all the days between then and now.

“He was weak that Templar. By the time his toes were all severed his eyes were unfocused and he was just babbling, not forming any coherent words. I slapped him until he focused on me again. I wanted to make sure he got a good look at me, wanted to make sure my memory would haunt any afterlife he might have.

“I told that pathetic Templar, that poor excuse for a man that if he didn’t watch me cut off his fingers I would make him eat them so he would remember each one vividly. He cried and screamed but he watched as I severed each and every one of them. I thought I would be done then, that my anger and rage, my need for vengeance would be sated by then, but it wasn’t.”

She took a deep breath and moved forward a little, she didn’t want to be leaning against him when she told him this next part. Somehow, it felt wrong to enjoy his comfort, his strength as she unraveled the last of her story. “I knew I would never forget his face for as long as I lived, that whenever I thought of my father I would see his killer’s face.

“And I hated that thought, that when I thought of my father I would picture my father’s severed head and this Templar’s face. So, I decided to give him a more appropriate face. I started below his eye, not sure it would work. I mean, I’d skinned a lot of animals growing up, but a man’s face is a completely different story.

“That first strip of skin came off, a little jagged, but not bad for a first try. And as I worked, taking the skin from his face strip by strip I got better. Each one a little easier, a little neater looking than the one before it. The Templar screamed and screamed until his voice was just a hoarse burbling noise in this throat.

“When his face was done I sat back down next to him, his eyes rolled wildly unable to escape what had just happened. I’d taken his lids early in my exercise, didn’t want him to miss anything. And strangely they did not bleed much. Finally, I felt the need for vengeance begin to recede.

“I sliced deep into his inner thigh and watched him bleed out. As his life ebbed away the anger and rage, the drive went with it. That eerie calm I had first felt stole back over me, and it was a little sweeter this time.

“As I left him lying there, mutilated and dead to pick up my father’s corpse and his severed head I felt so calm. The entire walk back to our house I felt calm, and not completely real, like I was outside my body. I know it sounds strange, but I don’t know how else to describe it.

“As I neared our yard I realized I was very tired, exhausted even but I kept walking until I reached the door. Things went fuzzy for a while after that. I guess I had been injured during the fight with the bandits and I don’t even remember it happening.”

Sekhmet turned around to gaze at Anders, moving the tunic she wore to show him the ugly reminder she had of that day. “That’s what the scar is from. A little reminder of how I failed my family.”

She’d been expecting disgust, like she’d seen earlier. But his eyes just looked so sad. “Sekhmet,” his voice was soft and his fingers touched her hand gently, she pulled it away.

“Don’t try to comfort me Anders. You’re missing the point. I’ve told you before I gave myself over to vengeance long ago. I took my vengeance that day, and doing it, handing myself over to it so completely felt good. It felt right, felt just.”

He nodded; she could see him struggling to understand it, to accept it. She gave him a little smile, he was sweet for trying. “There’s nothing to say Anders, it’s over and done with. But you shared your secret with me, and I thought you deserved to know mine. I told you I became a monster that day.”

He pursed his lips together briefly. “Aren’t we all?”

She shook her head, “Some of us just think we are.”


	59. He Loves Me Not

Dawn was cresting over the mountains around Kirkwall and in the golden light of the morning sun streaming through the window Sekhmet lay trapped in Anders’ arms as she so often was. The man clung to her in sleep as if she would steal away in the dead of night and leave him alone. She wondered if he’d held his other lovers so tight.

Nightmares had roused her hours ago and she was just thankful she hadn’t awakened Anders. Staying as still as she could manage she listened to the sound of his heart and the soft sounds of his breath as he slept. Anders’ sleep seemed to be nightmare free for once. The Darkspawn hadn’t preyed upon his rest for once and she was grateful. A full night’s sleep was even more infrequent for her beloved than it was for her.

He shifted, dawn waking him slowly. Sekhmet watched him, marveling again at his beauty, at how the sun seemed to love him, kissing his skin and hair with lush warm tones. On a whim she suddenly kissed the scar on his chest and immediately regretted it when he stiffened.

She loved that scar; it had set him on the path to her. It had helped shape him into a man that could appreciate her zealous nature. But to him, it was only a memory of a life he’d left behind, a reminder of the beast that had covered a field in Ferelden with blood.

Her fingers skimmed lightly over the griffon on his chest and she was rewarded with a lazy smile even though his eyes remained shut. Gently, he took her hand and kissed her finger tips. “How long have you been awake?”

She shrugged, not exactly a lie. 

His long lashes finally parted, slowly revealing the warm brown of his eyes. They perused her face and he finally released her from his tight grip. “Come give me a kiss.”

She pushed herself up a little in the bed and kissed him. A slow, gentle kiss his hand stroking slowly up and down her back. She melted into it a little, enjoying the simple pleasure of a morning in Anders’ arms.

His hand skimmed to her hip, sneaking up under the long tunic she was wearing. Lips still rocking against hers he gave a brief tug and untied the side of her smalls. Rolling to his back he pulled her atop him and untied the other side of her smalls.

She broke the kiss finally, “And what do you think you’re doing?”

His long index finger traced gently under her jaw, “Making you forget your bad dreams.”

And she needed that so badly, needed to have the darkness pushed back for a few hours. She let him have his way, for once reveling in the tenderness of his touch, the care with which he made love to her. And it worked; he chased away the shadows for her.

Now, they basked in their shared afterglow and their shared love of reading before greeting the day properly. Anders sat beside her, lost in his book and stroking her hair absently. This was a new thing, the stroking of her hair, and she was struggling to get used to it but Anders seemed to enjoy it so she beared it with as much grace as she could muster.

The fingers gliding over her hair suddenly became cool and Sekhmet turned to see Justice watching her. She smiled, trying to relax at his sudden appearance and sat up, “It’s been a while.”

Justice dropped his hand into his lap as she sat up. He stared at it as if there was something important there, as if he were trying to decipher it. Eventually, as if he suddenly realized she had spoken he looked up and replied. “It has. I have been,” he tilted his head to the side as if he were searching for the right word, “…struggling.” For Justice he was being awfully quiet and soft spoken.

Sekhmet furrowed her brow in query. This Justice was almost unrecognizable to her. Quiet, reserved, hesitant were not words she ever would have used to describe him before. What had been going on with him for these last months? 

Why hadn’t she seen him, and why was he suddenly here? She’d fully expected to see him the night she and Anders had swapped confessions. In truth, she’d expected quite a volatile response from him that night but he’d never shown. For weeks afterwards she’d been anxious waiting for him to come forward and punish her for what she’d confessed to. And only recently had she stopped expecting him.

Justice reached out and smoothed his cool fingers over her forehead. A small gesture, but oddly intimate and gentle for him. He closed his eyes briefly and Sekhmet found herself surprised again by how similar his actions were to Anders’. Was he trying to emulate Anders or was Anders just bleeding through?

Justice’s absence from their life for the last several months had made her in turns grateful and worried. And the confused emotions didn’t leave with his reappearance. Their last meeting had ended abruptly and awkwardly. She and Anders had spilled some hefty secrets between then and now. But, for now, Justice didn’t seem angry and that was something at least. “Have I done something to upset you?”

Justice shook his head. His eyes opened slowly and if she didn’t know better she would say he looked pained. “There are things I need to say, to you.”

She nodded, “Okay.”

Taking a deep breath he started. “I know I am not as I once was, I am no longer just a Spirit of Justice. There are moments when everything is clear to me, but more often everything is colored by my anger.”

He moved away from her a little more before speaking again, “The time we spend with you in the estate, especially this room is difficult. Anders is at peace and it makes it easier for me to think, but his contentment to just be here with you, it also stirs my anger.”

Anger that briefly flitted across his face as he spoke, tone gruffer and heavier, more resonate. “He is sitting and enjoying his freedom while our brothers and sisters languish in prison. It is not fair, it is not just and it makes me angry, both with him for being complacent and with you for causing and allowing it.”

He turned to look out the window, the light seeping from the cracks in Anders’ skin were erratic, bright flickers followed by such a dimness she wondered if Justice were ill or injured in someway. “But I am no better than he is, a part of me finds being with you, here, as calming as he does and I understand his desire for it. The anger that taints so many of my thoughts is stilled when Anders is at peace, and it is a great relief. Until I think of all the other things we should be doing.”

He fell silent for a long while and Sekhmet wasn’t sure whether to speak or not. Justice was usually so straight forward, the easiest of all of her traveling companions to understand. This Justice was different, or maybe he was the same but had simply learned to be more cautious.

At last he spoke again, his voice low and a little hollow sounding. “It is as if I am being ripped asunder.”

He turned back to her, odd blue eyes swirling as he stared at her. The smell of raspberries washed over her, faintly. Justice’s voice was still mostly quiet, but had picked up an intensity she didn’t recognize. “These wants and desires are foreign to me. And the doubt that follows so quickly on their heels, it is nearly debilitating. 

“I was never plagued with doubt before. In the Fade, I always knew what was just. And it made me feel good and whole. 

“I am Justice. There should be no doubt in Justice, no desire for anything other than for justice to be served.” It almost felt like he was pleading with her to understand, or maybe to help him without saying the words.

What did he want, what did he need from her? Sekhmet watched him closely, trying to discern what she should do for him and saw the emotions playing over his face. The ability to display emotions while he was in control was a completely new thing and it fascinated her. But he was in pain and she needed to help him. “Is there something I can do?”

Justice shook his head, “Truly, I do not know what I want.” He sat up straighter, “Every moment since I have stepped from the Fade has been filled with confusion. I never had much interest in the mortal realm while I was in the Fade and so many things were new to me. 

“The Commander was the first to reach out her hand in friendship to me. I did not understand what it meant at first, this strange idea of friends. But in time I grew to appreciate it. When Anders and I became friends I was honored.

“He was a guarded man, a careful man in his own way yet he had deemed me worthy of his trust. And in time he trusted me with his life, all of it, sharing his body with me. I do not know how to express the exact depth of what Anders really trusted me with. Truly, at the time I did not understand it myself.”

Justice shifted again, putting more space between them. Even this was odd, Justice had never been fidgety. He did not care to be touched usually, but he did not hold himself apart from others deliberately. Looking at Sekhmet’s hands, folded in her lap he continued. “Since coming here to live with you I have seen things in Anders I had thought he had lost forever. Instead of being grateful that you were healing my friend I became…I felt emotions that were more worthy of a demon than a spirit of justice.

“If I truly was his friend I would be happy that he has finally found something he has been seeking for most of his life. And I would trust him as he trusted me. Since the first moment we were joined I have failed to show him trust. I have been an unworthy friend.

“I have made his life more difficult every step of the way. I have tried to make him something and someone other than who he is. I have tried to take away the very things that made us friends.”

Another beat of silence passed between them as he slowly looked up, looked into her eyes. The swirling blue of his seeming to grow brighter as words tumbled from his lips, “The things I did to you nearly destroyed him.” He paused, clearly troubled by the revelation. “And now I find myself on the other side of things I had belittled and called foolish distractions not so long ago. You look at me like I am a man, like any other, and it is ripping me apart.

He paused again, and she could feel his gaze moving over her, assessing her. “I wonder if you can give me the same kind of peace you have given Anders? Can you tear the vengeance from the heart of who I have become and leave me as I once was?” He took another slow breath, “Can you offer me that kind of forgiveness?”

She moved to speak but he subtly shook his head no.

“I fear you.” He left a moment for the statement to sink in. “This is one emotion I have come to dislike. I am afraid of the confusion you cause. One moment I wish we had never met you and the next moment I am aching to touch you. Your skin it…” He paused, luminous blue eyes blinking slowly. “I do not know how much is me and how much is Anders, but I know it is becoming more dangerous.” 

He looked away from her, “The other day while Anders… made love to you I wondered what it felt like. I felt desire for you.” And the confession so clearly pained him.

“Oh, Justice,” she reached out to touch his face, her heart aching that she was making him hurt so much, making him doubt himself.

But, Justice stopped her, gripping her wrist. “Please do not touch me.” His voice sounded strange, low and rumbling and sort of strained. Were these real or were they just affectations Justice was borrowing from Anders to seem less foreign? She’d never seen him display any of these things before.

She placed her hand back in her lap, “I’m so sorry.” 

He’d been so silent this whole time because while she and Anders were enjoying each other Justice had been tormented. She hated that she was making Justice’s life more difficult by loving Anders. Gods knew Anders and Justice walked a hard enough road without her adding to it.

Justice gave a stiff nod. “Sekhmet, if I asked you to lie with me as you do with Anders, would you?”

She jerked a little in surprise. He wanted to…wanted her to??? Or was he just wondering if she would? Sekhmet didn’t want to say yes, she loved Anders, not Justice. But at the same time, Justice and Anders shared that flesh. Justice had to watch, to see all of their time together. And who knew how much he could feel?

It was no wonder he was so confused. Could she really just tell him he could never touch her, could never know what it was like? If she and Anders spent their lives together was that fair? What were the chances Justice would find someone else, that Anders would allow it? “I don’t know. This is strange for me too.”

Justice turned away from her, gaze back out the window. “I need to stay away from you.” His voice, the reverberating voice that usually shook fixtures was barely a whisper.

Justice sounded so strange, so odd and she could see he was hurting. There had to be something she could do to help, something to make things easier for him. Justice was a part of Anders and probably always would be. “Justice please.” When she’d worried about all the different problems she could have run into with Anders and Justice this had not been one of them.

Justice shook his head, “No, you are dangerous. But I thank you for the new things you have allowed me to discover.” Before she could respond he was gone and Anders was turning back to look at her. And she could have been wrong but she thought she saw dread in his eyes. 

She searched Anders’ face, anxiety tying her stomach into knots. “I didn’t mean to hurt him Anders, I swear.”

Anders reached out and wrapped his arms around her; he kissed the top of her head. “I know, love, I know.” He squeezed her tight, “I didn’t even know he was coming through, he was just suddenly there one moment.”

She buried her face into his shoulder. He was trying to soothe her but it wasn’t helping. Poor Justice, he couldn’t even bring himself to accept the comfort Sekhmet offered. “We’re torturing him, Anders. I’ve failed you both. I’m so sorry.”

Anders held her and rocked her against him gently, “Shh, stop. You didn’t fail anyone. His emotions can be paralyzing for him sometimes. I don’t think he really desires you in the way he fears. I think perhaps he is merely confused. And Varric made him think it was something sexual.”

“That was as much my faulty as Varric’s. I didn’t have to say anything.” Did Anders really think Justice was confused about feeling desire for her, or was he just trying to make her feel better? Sekhmet nuzzled against his neck, seeking comfort, seeking something good to blunt how terrible she felt about what Justice was going through. And even as she did she was nagged by the thought that it was only a further torment to the spirit.

She must have formed some sort of attachment to Justice because the idea of him hiding himself away from her permanently hurt. She did not care for him as she cared for Anders, but there was some kind of bond that they’d started to form, obviously. “I don’t want to lose him; I don’t want to alienate him. He’s a part of you.”

Anders pulled back from her a bit and cocked his head. “You want him to love you?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, she didn’t know. What did she want from Justice? Up until recently she’d mostly wanted him not to try to kill her again. And now…now there were so many possibilities. Could they really become friends? Would things evolve into an extension of her relationship with Anders?

Did it really matter? He was a spirit; regardless of what she wanted from him he might not be capable of giving it to her. “Can he even feel love?”

Anders took a deep breath, “I don’t know. He seems to experience new things, new emotions all of the time, and he was different, felt different this time.” Anders turned away from her a little. “Being with you, loving you, it’s new for both of us. I think my confusion makes it harder for him. You and I are stumbling through this relationship, unsure of what we’re doing and it leaves him with no real frame of reference.”

Sekhmet reached out and caressed Anders’ face as she had wanted to do with Justice. He looked tired and sad. She could see part of him giving in and it broke her heart. Anders asked her for so little and she really wanted to give it to him. But, to pretend Justice didn’t exist made no sense at all.

So, she would find a way to move beyond this current impasse with Justice. Time had worked on Anders, and in many ways Anders and Justice weren’t so terribly different. Maybe time would work on Justice. And they had nothing but time now. Anders wasn’t going anywhere, which meant neither was Justice. “I will be patient, I can wait for him.”

Anders snapped his head back locking eyes with her, “You love him?” The pain in his voice was clear.

“I feel…something for him, enough not to want him to have to hide himself away all the time, enough not to want him to feel tormented forever. And if he’s truly part of you, how can I do anything other than love him eventually? I love all of you.” She shook her head and moved away from him a little, confused by his tone of voice. “I don’t know how else to say it Anders. How many times must I say it before you believe it?”

Anders turned to her and gripped her upper arm lightly. “I don’t know if I’m alright with that.” He shook his head, “I just want one thing for myself. Just you.”

And that was the bitch of it all wasn’t it? She’d wanted Anders for herself, had been willing to pay almost any price for it. But, with Anders, no matter what he did she would never belong to just him. Perhaps that was why this was so important to him.

He’d always have to share at least part of her with Sebastian. She thought he might have finally accepted that Sebastian would always be important to her. And as long as she was Champion he’d have to share her with the city. So, it made sense he wouldn’t want to share her with anyone else, not even the spirit that shared his flesh.

But, per his own statements, Justice was part of him. And if he was a part of Anders she’d have to accept him too. You couldn’t love just parts of someone and truly consider yourself worthy of them. “You expect me to only love the parts of you that you want me too?” She gave him a smile, hoping to set him at ease, the tension was coiled inside of him like a great spring. Gently, she placed a light kiss on his lips. “It doesn’t work that way my love.” 

“Am I not enough?” His voice was pained.

She sighed, what was wrong with the two of them? How, after all they had been through together, could either of them doubt their love for each other? Yet, they both did it. They both doubted. Probably not so much doubting the love, but doubting their own worthiness of that love.

She shifted, holding him against her as she stroked his soft golden hair, luminous in the morning light. “You cannot have it both ways, Anders. Either he is part of you, and you are one and the same. Or, he is separate, a different man. You need decide which it is. If he is part of you, how can I love you and not Justice? And if you are different men, then you need to accept that yourself and let us try to be friends.”

He sighed softly, breath fanning against her neck, head still cradled on her shoulder. “Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you’re reasonable?”

She giggled, pleased that while he wasn’t thrilled at least he wasn’t arguing with her. “I guess it’s a good thing it happens so seldom. Does that mean you agree?”

“No, it means you make sense. And, can I just state for the record that I hate that too?” He kissed her neck softly. “I love you,” he whispered against her skin. Shifting, he laid them back, pinning her to the bed. “And I want to make love to you again.” Gently, he nuzzled her neck and up to her ear. “Let me make love to you again.” His teeth tugged at her ear even as he pushed his thigh between her legs spreading them.

She thought about saying no. Not because she didn’t want to, but because Anders’ reason for wanting to make love to her had more to do with possession than love. Whether he was using sex to prove to himself she was still his, or as a message to Justice she wasn’t sure. In the end, she relented because when he kissed her with all that scorching passion he managed to somehow pour into a single kiss she could deny him nothing.

********

“Mistress Hawke, the elf is here.” Bodahn announced briefly before heading back down the stairs and leaving the library.

Anders fell silent and moved so Sekhmet could get up more easily. Sekhmet looked up, a smile on her lips and Anders dropped a soft kiss to them. “Go on before they go at it again.”

Poor Bodahn, for whatever reason he didn’t particularly like Fenris. But, living in the estate he was stuck seeing him nearly everyday. He never referred to Fenris as anything other than “the elf”, even in front of Fenris. 

She hurried to see what Fenris was doing there so early in the morning, as much because she was curious as because she was hoping to prevent Fenris and Bodahn from snarking at each other and upsetting Sandal and Orana. So far, Fenris was the only person she knew that could ruffle Bodahn’s affable demeanor. She didn’t know what Bodahn’s problem with Fenris was, and as long as it didn’t cause anything more than an occasional argument she’d decided it was none of her business.

Fenris waited patiently for her in the foyer, “I have a message.” 

He held it out to her and she was surprised to see the wax hadn’t even completely cooled yet. Considering it had been weeks since the first party she and Anders had been to together she couldn’t understand what could be so important now. She and Anders had wondered when the backlash would happen, when the world would slap them in the face because of their actions.

Holding the message in her hand she felt tension bleed from her, tension she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding onto all this time. She tore the missive open and scanned it over quickly. Furrowing her brow she read it over again.

She’d expected worse news, though she supposed only time would tell what Cullen would do. Thrask’s message was clear, Cullen was furious after the fiasco at the party some weeks before. He’d been short with the mages and unusually harsh with his fellow Templars. And for a while no one was sure what was wrong with him.

It seemed the Knight Commander had somehow silenced the other Templars who had been at the party that night. There had been an announcement today about the Champion and her apostate companion. Thrask, good man that he was, had investigated further before reaching out to Fenris.

The Knight Commander hadn’t dismissed Cullen, though rumor was it had been a very near thing. She had, however, made it clear he had better earn back the respect of the men in a hurry. A knot formed in Sekhmet’s stomach as she tried to imagine exactly how the Knight Captain might go about doing such a thing.

And then there was the announcement. Knight Commander Meredith issued direct orders not to interfere with the Champion and her companions. She made a special note advising they work especially hard to steer clear of Anders. 

As much as Sekhmet wanted to believe that was a good thing she couldn’t help but to feel apprehensive. She couldn’t believe Meredith would give up on Anders simply because he was the Champion’s lover. No something was going on here; Sekhmet just couldn’t see what it was yet.

She would have to wait for word from Thrask, see if he found out anything new. And she’d try to do a little investigating of her own. Maybe she would talk to Marcus from the Underground, see if his people could find out anything. For now, she’d keep Anders out of it. She didn’t need him or Justice any more paranoid then they already were.

She waived Fenris in, “Come in for tea, won’t you?” She tossed the message into the fire place as they passed it, ignoring Fenris’ questioning look.

He didn’t press her and she was grateful. It seemed he had other things on his mind today. “If we have nothing too pressing today I thought we might work more on my lessons?”

She looked to the desk, to the stack of help requests still stacked there. Mentally, she went over the ones she had planned on dealing with today, nothing immediately life or death. She and the others had been working hard nonstop for weeks. 

Fenris chuckled quietly, “You can say no, Hawke. I am not a child.”

“I think we could use a break. We’ve been working so hard and that pile never gets any smaller.” She grabbed the stack and headed into the library. Anders was already seated on the upper level reading while drinking tea. From where they were on the bottom floor they couldn’t see him but she couldn’t imagine he’d moved since she’d gone to collect Fenris.

She settled onto a sofa with her stack of parchment. “We’ll get you started and I’ll go through these and try to weed out some.” She shook her head, “There’s been so many of them coming in I’ve barely had a chance to look at them.”

Fenris picked up the book they had been working on the last time he was there. He was really struggling with this book. It was on philosophy and had a lot of terminology and turns of phrase that were unfamiliar to him. She had specifically picked it to challenge him. 

Fenris was a fairly smart man and she had feared he was getting too complacent about his reading. And since he hadn’t seemed interested in learning how to write as of yet she’d needed to push him in other ways. While he struggled with the book, he didn’t complain.

He’d learned enough that he could use the dictionary mostly on his own for words he didn’t know. When he did get stuck he had no trouble asking. Settling on the floor in front of the fire he opened the book and set the bookmark aside. Reading silently to himself was a new skill he’d mastered and he was quite proud of it. He was a good student.

As he turned his attention more fully to his book and she realized he didn’t need her assistance she went and found Bodahn, asking him to send messages to everyone to take the day off and enjoy themselves. They would regroup tomorrow. Knowing she didn’t have to go running off to deal with more problems in the still-recovering-Kirkwall was relief. Apparently, she hadn’t realized how much stress the never ending requests were putting on her. She didn’t want to live like this, forever at the beck and call of others, constantly needing to help those who were not strong enough, or smart enough to help themselves.

It was time to start paring down the stack, time to work at getting her life back, time to get everyone’s life back to some semblance of normalcy. She settled back onto the sofa in the library and tackled the huge pile of requests. If they kept going at this rate she was going to wear everyone out and they would just start to refuse helping her with her never ending jobs.

A few hours later she had four piles, one she would give to Anders. He could have Orana and Sandal practice their writing skills by writing polite replies declining to assist the petitioners. Most of the jobs were small and someone else could easily handle them.

The second pile she would give to Varric. He could get people he trusted to take care of them. None of them were terribly critical, but she wanted to make sure they were handled properly. 

The third pile she and Anders would tackle either alone, or with the Mage Underground. She still did her best to keep the rest of their friends out of her business with the Underground. It would put them in an awkward position and most of them did not feel as she and Anders did about the cause of mage freedom. 

Her role in the Underground was still mainly financial. Marcus was a careful man and he didn’t want Sekhmet or himself put into an awkward position by their association. She could understand that, she was just glad to know her funds had been helping to free more mages than they’d ever managed before. And on the few occasions when Marcus did ask her for help she was more than happy to lend a hand.

And the last pile she and the others would tackle together. They were things that absolutely needed a personal touch. Yes, some of them were currying favor with certain high powered nobles, but Anders and Varric had been right. It behooved them all to have a little weight on their side if they needed it. At least the stack was much more manageable looking than the original pile.

Sekhmet glanced up as she set the last request aside and saw Fenris seated on the floor cross legged in front of the fire still deeply engrossed in his book. She felt a tingling across the skin on the back of her neck and looked up to see Anders standing at the railing of the mezzanine in the library. Quietly, she pushed to her feet and walked up the stairs, she wanted to find a book she could relax with now anyways.

Anders looked pensive, a little furrow between his brows as he looked down on the elf. Unable to keep herself from goading him a little she walked over and slipped her arm around his waist. She kept her voice a quiet whisper so that Fenris would not hear them below. “Enjoying the view?”

Anders grumbled but didn’t speak.

Sekhmet looked down where Fenris was lit softly with the firelight, “Oh, admit it Anders, when he sits there, quiet like that, you can forget how much of an ass he can be and appreciate how beautiful he is.”

Anders looked down at her, “You think he’s beautiful?”

She scowled; he wasn’t going to pull another of his jealous tempers was he? There was no way he couldn’t see what she did. “Of course I do, I mean look at him. Have you ever seen a man, elf or otherwise, so finely beautiful and strong? He’s like artwork.”

Anders grunted in apparent irritation and looked away, casting his gaze back down on the reading elf.

“When he’s quiet like this I am always amazed at his beauty. It’s like when he’s complaining; I miss it, or forget.” She sighed softly, about to continue when Anders spoke surprising her.

“I do know what you mean, the lyrium on his skin, the lines of it, the silver white of his hair, the green eyes. It’s like someone painted him to tempt you.” His words were quiet and tinged with regret. “And when he speaks again, with that beautiful voice of his, as gorgeous as the rest of him, I’ll wonder again how so much beauty and ugliness can be found in the same person.” 

It was true; he could be so angry, so hateful. He was vicious even to those who surrounded him and tried, at least, to call him friend. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the last argument at his mansion.

She had gone to see how he’d made out on the job she had sent him on the previous day. It was supposed to be a quick stop before she went to the clinic to help Anders for a few hours. Fenris had been in a bad mood when she got there, already ranting about mages and magic. And she supposed it probably answered the question about how the job went, not that there were supposed to be any mages, but in Kirkwall they often cropped up when you least expected them.

She should have just left. She should have remembered there was no reasoning with him when he was like that. Instead, she tried to get him to understand that magic was not a poison, that it was the person, not the magic that made the difference. He had lashed out at her with angry words asking how he was supposed to believe her of all people, an abomination’s whore. 

It had hurt her, cut her, to hear him call her such things, but she supposed after so many years she should be used to his abuses. She had left and gone to the clinic, glad when it was empty so she could seek comfort from Anders. She hadn’t told him what had happened. She no longer told him about the arguments she had with Fenris, it simply made him angry and worsened things between the two men. And in the end Fenris always apologized.

Anders leaned against her, “I shouldn’t let myself get so angry at him. Shouldn’t I of all people understand how the abuse of others can warp the mind, can damage the soul?”

“Anders?” Was he making a concession? Was he actually trying to understand the elf instead of just hating him?

He sighed a little, “Don’t get your hopes up, I still disagree with him with every fiber of my being and I still think he’s wrong. We’ll never be friends, we’ll never like each other, and more than likely we will never be civil, but a very small part of me understands him. That’s the most you’ll ever get from me, and I can pretty much guarantee you wouldn’t get even that from him.”

“I keep wondering what he was like before Danarius. Would he have been a happy man, or at least less angry?” She shrugged; there was no way to tell. The damage had been done long before Sekhmet had ever met him. 

“Would you find him as beautiful as you do now if he was happy?” Anders’ voice was quiet and curious.

Yes, she rather liked her damaged men didn’t she? Anders was perhaps the most damanged of them all, complex and jaggedly beautiful. But Fenris was a close second. Even Sebastian had the ghosts of his past. And while Varric never spoke about it there was deep well in that man, filled with pain and regret. “I’m not sure; his melancholy is part of his beauty isn’t it? But when he’s relaxed and he laughs at my twisted humor his smile is breathtaking, and I cherish his laughter.”

Things were obviously getting uncomfortable for Anders, he backed away from the railing before he turned and started to walk away from it, back to the book he had left on the table, “I keep wondering if his cock has lyrium tattoos on it too.”

Surprised, she laughed. The raucous sound overly loud in the quiet of the library. Fenris looked up at her clearly trying to understand what had made her laugh like that. Sekhmet smiled at him before turning around and striding across the space to Anders. “No injuries to heal that let you find out yet?” She could let Anders deflect; Maker knew he tolerated it in her enough. 

“Well unless someone tries to castrate the man, that’s not likely to happen.” His lips were quirked up into his little smirk.

She grinned, “I could make that happen for you, but only if you tell me if he’s tattooed or not.”

Anders had settled into a chair and pulled her down into his lap, “You’re so sweet, willing to maim a friend to satisfy my curiosity. But I think it would be funnier if you just asked him. Then we could watch him stammer and blush.”

She snorted, “Or get irritated and rip my heart out.”

“Not you, he’s far too fond of you for that.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and she could see him fighting with himself.

“What?” 

And his sexy little smirk was back on those too beautiful lips of his. “Ignore me love. I let my mind wander, and as is its wont, it tripped down the road into thoughts of making love to you in inappropriate places.”

She shook her head, grinning. If it was between his angry fits of jealousy or this new constant desire to have sex whenever another man was around, she’d take this. And she was oh so tempted to say yes, to see what he was thinking and to see if she could keep quiet. But, Fenris would not see the humor if he needed help with his book. “You can tell me all about it later.”

He kissed her briefly, “I could always show you.”

“Maybe another time.”

But his hands were sliding under her tunic. “Come on, Sekhmet. Doesn’t it excite you, just a little bit?”

She gripped his wrists to stop him from fondling her. “If I admit it does, will you stop?”

His smile widened, “Yes.”

“Fine, it excites me.”

Anders pouted, “Say it for me.”

Her beloved was such an interesting mix, the darker shades of his libido always managed to peek through even though he was always so carefully sweet and tender with her. Honestly, it was maddening. She wanted the fire; the infero she knew was inside of him. Yet, all he ever gave her was banked coals masked with that wicked tongue of his.

One of these days she would find the way to release all that heat. For now, she played his little games, the little hints to the other half of his sexuality. She grabbed a hold of his ponytail, watching his head tip back and his lips part, his eye lids drooping as she plucked at one of the strings of desire that he kept wound so tight. 

Turning his head by his hair she licked delicately around the shell of his ear. “The idea of making love to you while Fenris is so close arouses me…a lot.” With that she released his hair and stood up, moving away from him quickly. She only just managed to dance out of reach, grinning, when he made a grab for her.

He clenched his fists, fighting himself, so obviously wanting her back in his lap...or elsewhere. She wondered if he regretted showing her how much he liked his hair pulled. When she did it, she could see him struggling against the desire to become aggressive, the urge to dominate her. 

At first it had excited her, watching him fight those urges. Now, she just found it frustrating. “Isn’t this the part where you warn me to behave?”

Taking a couple deep breaths he smiled slowly, “No, I’ve given up on you ever behaving yourself.”

She watched transfixed as he tugged at his laces, untying them and pushing the sides of his trousers out of the way. What was he doing? He didn’t really think she would fuck him with Fenris so close did he?

He shifted and pulled his cock free, running his thumb over the head. Her heart started beating faster as she watched him grip himself firmly. Just what was it about a man holding his cock, not shy, but proudly displaying it that was so damn sexy?

She could feel Anders’ eyes on her as he slowly started stroking himself, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from where he was touching himself, putting on a show just for her in order to meet his eyes. Besides, she knew what she’d see there, desire and need. Anders always needed… 

She’d been right all those years ago; Anders really was sex on legs. He could care less if Fenris caught him pleasuring himself. The man was just enjoying putting on a show for her.

Slowly, he stood, leaning back against the heavy table behid him. He spread his thighs, just the slightest. The dark brown leather accentuating the pale tan of his hand as it slid up and down his engorged, reddened cock. Her fingers ached to touch him, her body responded to him immediately as it always did. It had to break some law of nature for Anders to be so damned sexy, even just touching himself.

Teasingly, he used his other hand to start tugging off his tunic. The fabric sliding so slowly up, revealing his dragon, the flat planes of his stomach, the griffon on his chest, the scar she had come to love, before being dragged over his head. She would lick each trace of ink, sliding over the curves of the dragon, over the ridges of muscle to trace the elegant lines of that griffon. 

She nearly moaned aloud thinking about that griffon…Warden stamina was a thing to behold. Anders kept up his little display. He let the tunic slid down the arm still stroking his cock slowly, somehow making it look sexy instead of ridiculous.

She could feel her sex throbbing, hungry and wanting him. How could she not when he looked like that? And he’d never done anything like this before, little things, teases, or the one time she’d asked. But, this…she had no words for it.

Just Anders himself, the naturally sexual creature he was, enjoying his own touch. She wondered how often he’d done this in the past. Had he used a blatent display of sexuality like this before to entice a would be lover? 

He peeled the opening of his trousers back and slid them down a little more, giving her a good view of the v of his pelvis. The whole time he watched, eyes fixed raptly on her as he kept stroking his cock slowly. And he was smiling, so damn pleased with himself, his little performance. “Stay where you are.”

That quiet voice startled her. She hadn’t even realized she’d started moving towards him. Licking her dry lips she took a step back. Did he have any idea how badly she wanted to taste him at this moment? He still hadn’t let her and now watching him it frustrated her all over again. She wanted to feel him, his skin, her fingers, tongue, her lips all over him enjoying him, reveling in him.

She was so wet, so aroused. With great difficulty she tore her gaze away from the cock she so badly wanted to taste, to lick, to feel the velvety soft texure on her lips. Her gaze slid over his body, the faint tan of his skin, beautiful on his long, lean frame. She wanted to ghost her fingers over the warm, taut flesh of his abdomen, over the definition of his chest. And his hair, she wanted to bury her fingers in it, wanted to feel the warm silken strands slide between her fingers.

Following her gaze, he reached up and tugged the leather thong holding it tied back loose. With a quick shake of his head the blonde locks spilled down his shoulders. Was there a god of masculine beauty, of lust and arousal? Anders like this, his hand speeding up along his shaft, made her very much believe there was. And Anders either was that god or was possessed by him at the moment.

How could he manage to assault so many of her senses from across the room? She could practically taste the faint salt of his skin. Her fingers tingled, imagining sliding over the soft and unnaturally smooth scars across his back. His rapid breathing was calling to her body, her own breath speeding to match his.

She drank him in, from head to toe, the slim trousers and high boots only adding to his allure. His free hand was moving over his skin now, slipping inside of his trousers, skimming over the skin of his groin, through the tuft of blonde hair. The muscles of his abdomen rippled and contracted as he relentlessly pumped his cock chasing after his orgasm.

And all of it with that damned sexy smirk. He knew she wanted him, knew that standing here silently watching him was nearly killing her, and he loved it. The knowledge was all over his face. She’d said it before, but it bore repeating…he was such a bastard.

He arched his back, the graceful movement more reminiscent of a dancer than a mage with the power to turn men to ash with barely a thought. Oh yes, his power, his strength, was a big part of her attraction, she couldn’t deny it. His hips rocked forward, his eyes fluttered shut, and the smile morphed into the parted lips invocation rendered up to the gods when one traveled on waves of orgasmic bliss.

She watched, mesmerized as jet after jet of ejaculate shot from him, arcing through the air before falling to the stone floor. Even the act of cumming had a strange grace to it, something that should not be possible. Men and women alike tended to look ridiculous when lost in the throes of orgasm. It was unfair that Anders should look so enticing even in that moment.

After a few final strokes, the last drops of cum dripping heavy to the floor, he slumped back against the table. It took him a few moments to gather himself and she just stood there taking him in. His cock, still semi erect, was hanging out of his trousers, and the rest of his torso was openly on display for her perusal. And, he was magnificent.

She shook her head, trying to wake up from whatever odd spell his blatent display of sexuality had cast over her. “What is going on with you today?”

He opened his eyes, slowly, as if it was difficult for him. Pushing off the table he strolled slowly over to her, not bothering to cover himself in any way. “Don’t be petulant. It’s not like I didn’t offer for you to join me.” Teasingly, his fingers traced over her neck, “As a matter of fact, I’d be more than happy,” his hand slid down her back to cup her ass. His long elegant fingers squeezed her ass and tugged her closer to him. Amazingly enough, she could fee that he was hard again, that damned, wonderful Warden stamina. He slipped his hand down between her legs rubbing her through her trousers, “to ease the ache I know you’re feeling right now.”

Her knees nearly buckled as her already very wet and very needy sex reacted to his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from spreading her legs a little further, giving him easier access. Squeezing her eyes shut and lowering her head she let him tease her through her trousers.

Anders’ voice, those low seductive tones that she adored purred in her ear. “If you don’t want Fenris here, get him to leave. I still want you.”

She finally found the strength, somehow to step away from him. “No, I told him I would help him today. You’re just going to have to control yourself.”

A wry smile touched his lips, “Well, it was worth a try wasn’t it? Andraste’s ass, I’m randy today.” He tucked himself back into his trousers with some difficulty and laced them back up. “Go on and help Fenris before I can’t control myself and give you another show.”

She smiled, “And clean up your mess. I don’t want Orana finding that.”

He chuckled softly, “Yes, ma’am, right away.”

[Click here to return to DA](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-He-Loves-Me-Not-428209860)

She headed down the steps, feeling amused and a little giddy. Fenris looked up as she reached the bottom, flashing her a sour look. He must have heard something, or at least suspected. Not that she thought for one moment he could have imagined the weird and sensual tableau she’d just been privy too.

“I wanted to ask you something, if you’re…done, Hawke.” His voice was quiet, but intense.

She ignored his inference and nodded, “Sure.”

“I’ve been thinking, perhaps it is time I learned to write.” The words came out in a rush, very un-Fenris like. Was he embarrassed to ask for that when he had no problems asking for pretty much anything else? Granted when she had first started teaching him to read it had been like pulling teeth. He’d hated asking for anything but she thought they’d overcome that at least.

“Oh, I think that’s excellent, Fenris. Stay here and I’ll go get a piece of slate and some chalk for you. She jogged back up the stairs. Anders kept all the things they used for educating Sandal and Orana up there. 

He split into a grin when he saw her and pulled her close, kissing her softly. “Couldn’t stay away from me?”

“I just need some chalk and a piece of slate for Fenris.” She pushed half heartedly to get out of his grasp.

He pouted at her, “I was hoping that was just your excuse to come back up here.”

“As adorable as you are, you’re not completely irrestable.” Nevermind that it was a very near thing. 

With an exaggerated sigh he let her go, “Madam, you wound me.”

She smirked, “That’s alright, I’ll kiss it better later.”

“For fuck’s sake, if you two can’t keep your hands off each other I’ll just leave.” Fenris’ irritated voice floated up from below.

Anders snickered, “Sounds good to me,” he tried to pull her close again.

Sekhmet slipped out of his embrace. “I’m on my way back down, Fenris.”

Fenris grumbled, but she had no idea what he was saying. 

Anders on the other hand bent and picked up his tunic from where he’d be using it to clean up the floor. “I’ll be in our room if you change your mind.” He kissed her briefly on the cheek before jogging down the steps. “Enjoy your lesson, I know I did.” He quipped as he passed Fenris in the room below.

Slate and chalk finally in hand she headed down the steps again. She set them in front of Fenris along with a paper filled with Anders’ flowing script. He’d carefully written out the alphabet, both upper and lower case, for Orana and Sandal to use as a reference after the kittens had somehow gotten the one her mother had made so long ago and turned it into confetti. Just one of many sacrifices to the cat gods the household had made since their adoption. Even still, Sekhmet wouldn’t change a thing. Watching Anders with Lord and Lady was well worth it.

She settled down on the floor next to Fenris. “Are you ready?”

He rolled his eyes, “Are you?”

“Sorry about that.” Although, she wasn’t exactly sorry, after all she hadn’t done anything other than watch, and it had been spectacular.

He shrugged a little, “I am perhaps not as tolerant as I would be normally.”

She nodded in understanding, “Still haven’t seen Isabela?”

“No, how about you?” She could tell he was trying not to look hopeful as he asked.

“Other than her disappearing from the Hanged Man when I show up, no. She hasn’t said a word to me.” She’d thought a few times about pushing the issue. The truth was she wasn’t sure what she would say to Izzy if and when they did speak. Half the time she thought about it she wanted to put the whole mess with the tome and the Arishok behind them. And the rest of the time she had the urge to make Izzy pay. Both Fenris and Anders had been hurt because of her running out on them. 

She thought for a moment Fenris was going to say more but eventually he just sighed, “Where do we start?”

So, she started walking him through how to make the letters. And as she had suspected he picked it up fairly quickly. He was already reading and knew what the letters were for, understood the sounds they made. All he really needed was practice to form their shapes.

It was a while before he relaxed but eventually he seemed to forget his earlier tension both of Anders’ antics and his worry of Isabela. They talked while he practiced forming the letters. He told her of Thrask barging into his mansion this morning insisting the message he had was urgent.

Fenris was worried about Thrask. The man had something going on that was starting to make him paranoid and overly cautious. Thrask wasn’t a man who was prone to delusions of people being out to get him so the idea that he was becoming so paranoid worried her as well. Was Meredith onto him and he didn’t want to trouble Sekhmet with it? For a templar Thrask was a good man so she promised Fenris to do what she could to find out what was troubling him.


	60. The Heart of Me

Sekhmet had to give Keran credit. She’d expected him to crack, to spill whatever it was that Thrask was getting into. But, the young Templar recruit kept his lips buttoned. 

She’d thought about torturing the information out of him for a split second before she realized she couldn’t do that to the poor kid. Especially, not after everything he had gone through at the hands of mages not all that long ago. And she respected the boy. Even when she’d lost her temper and yelled he hadn’t broken. He’d paled considerably, but his lips stayed sealed. 

Frustrated, she’d let him leave, only after extracting a promise to let her know if Thrask was in any immediate danger. She told him he could send a message directly to her or to Fenris, if he felt more comfortable. Watching him as he all but ran away she realized that she’d run out of contacts to use. 

Anyone else she could utilize would possibly tip off Meredith that something was going on. And Sekhmet was trying to keep Thrask out of danger, not thrust him into the Knight Commander’s spotlight. Thrask had refused to meet her or give her any clue about what he was doing, other than he was trying to help.

Over the past few days she’d run down rumors, most of them leading nowhere and simply leaving her frustrated and exhausted. She’d tracked Thrask as much as she could, but the wily bastard was sneaky and clever, or he was lying low. She never saw him anywhere he wouldn’t normally go, or with anyone he wouldn’t normally associate with.

Worried she might be losing her touch, she’d talked Varric into pressing Izzy into service. Sekhmet would have asked Isabela herself if the pirate queen didn’t always disappear as soon as she saw her. Isabela had agreed to track the Templar and reported back to Varric essentially exactly what Sekhmet had already seen for herself.

When she found herself getting nowhere she’d asked Keran to meet her. She hoped he was still grateful for being saved. And he was, very grateful, but not talkative.

As she watched the young blonde leave she realized there were now two Templars she didn’t want to see dead. What an odd feeling. She’d have to be more careful if she continued to hunt. Granted, she only did it on rare occasions now, but she’d hate to accidentally kill her contact, or the almost painfully sweet Keran.

She wished she could give it up, not just because there were at least two Templars she didn’t want to see die under her blades. But, if Sebastian ever found out…no, she wouldn’t think of that. It was enough to realize it would be a disaster…worse than a disaster if there was any such thing. And there was Anders to think about as well.

Anders wanted her to stop, but even knowing that, she couldn’t bring herself to stop completely. Yes, she helped mages via the Underground. Yes, she helped any mage who wrote to her asking for help. But Templars were the real problem. And unless she was doing something about the Templars she felt like she was failing her father and her sister.

Her sister that she missed so dearly, her sister that never responded to her letters but always found the time to respond to each and every one of Anders’. Her sister, who would be fighting nightmare creatures for the rest of her now, abbreviated life. Her sister, who would never again get to be surrounded by her loving family, would never be able to have her own child.

That one had hurt. When Anders had told her about the Wardens and children her first reaction had only been about the two of them. It dawned on her later that it meant Bethany would never have a child of her own. The idea broke her heart. Not only would her sister never be a mother, but the Hawke line would likely end with the two of them.

Bethany who had only wanted to be normal, to have a normal life, would have nothing. She’d spend her days chasing after monsters and fighting them. She’d never be able to settle down and have a family. She’d never be able to do any of the things a normal woman would. Meanwhile, here was Sekhmet, who had never wanted to settle down, living in a posh estate married to a man she adored. No wonder Bethany was so angry with Sekhmet still.

Each week Sekhmet wrote a letter and mailed it out. Each week she apologized for dragging Bethany into the Deep Roads and for consigning her to the Wardens. Each week she told her sister she didn’t expect to be forgiven. The rest of the letter she filled with their friends’ antics.

She never wrote about Anders or their relationship. Was there anything she could say that didn’t sound like she was gloating about how wonderful things were while Bethany was struggling against evil? She’d been tempted, for a moment, to tell Beth about Anders wanting a child, to ask her sister’s advice. It just seemed too cruel considering the circumstances. 

Some days she wondered why she bothered to write at all. But she wanted Bethany to know she was thinking about her, that she hadn’t just forgotten that Beth existed merely because she was gone. Beth was the only real family she had left. 

The funny thing was Sekhmet knew Bethany would be appalled if she learned of Sekhmet’s version of hunting. And the truth was Sekhmet would have never done something so callous if Bethany was still there. Her little sister never would have allowed it, and Sekhmet wouldn’t have wanted to upset her. But Bethany wasn’t here, and it made Sekhmet feel like she was doing something for her sister despite their distance. 

Satisfied that Keran had put enough distance between them Sekhmet walked out of the alley. She hoped Fenris would be satisfied with the rather sparse results she’d turned up in this case. Thrask was potentially in danger, but it clearly wasn’t imminent. And now she had both a Circle mage working with the Underground and another Templar keeping an eye on him. If anything pressing developed she would know rather quickly, she hoped.

She very much wanted to go straight to Anders’ clinic. She was missing him already. They had been spending so much time together for the last few months that just a few days apart was enough to highlight how much she had become accustomed to always having him at her side.

But, there was Isabela to deal with. She was sick of the pirate queen disappearing every time she showed up at the Hanged Man. And she was tired of wondering what would happen when, inevitably, they couldn’t avoid each other.

So, not looking forward to it at all, she headed for the Hanged Man. As soon as she swung the door open Isabela lifted her head from her drink and caught sight of her. Immediately, Izzy stood and started heading towards the back room of the bar where the deliveries were made and stored until later use.

Pushing down the wave of irritation Sekhmet followed her. Izzy was walking briskly out of the alley by time Sekhmet exited the door. But, even on Sekhmet’s worst days she was faster than the pirate queen.

She caught up with Isabela and gripped her arm, pulling her to a halt. “No more running off, Izzy.”

Isabela stopped but didn’t look at her. “What do you want?” Her voice was flat, somehow shallow and empty.

“We need to talk.” And wasn’t that an understatement? For now, she wanted to talk, but only time would tell if it stayed that way. Her irritation with Isabela came and went depending on her mood.

“What is there to talk about? What’s done is done.” Isabela turned, still not meeting her eyes but at least she was facing her now.

What was there to talk about? She couldn’t be serious. “There’s plenty to talk about. How about you abandoning us in that Foundry? Or your miraculous return with the book? Or, we can start with Fenris if you like.”

Izzy scowled and looked away, silent.

“Fine, I’ll start. I’ve seen you do some damned selfish things over the years, but leaving Anders, Fenris and I to face a building full of Qunari and Tevinter mages to chase after that god dammed book? That has to be the stupidest, the most selfish of them all. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Nothing but silence from Isabela.

The anger was starting to crawl over her like a dozen spiders skittering across her skin at Isabela’s silence. “He nearly died, you know.”

A response finally, Isabela’s lip curled in disgust. “Like Justice would ever let your precious Anders die like that.” 

Her impulse was to reach out and slap Isabela. How could she possibly think mouthing off about Anders was a good idea at a time like this, especially, after what she had done? Sekhmet shook her head, trying to calm down and suppress the urge to choke Isabela. She’d come to talk, not to scream or murder. “Not Anders, Fenris.”

Isabela looked up and met her eyes at last. “He was hurt?” What was the emotion stirring in their chocolate brown depths? And how could there be such a storm of emotion behind her eyes while her face remained blank?

Sekhmet, more cautious as she watched Isabela, nodded, “Badly, I was worried we were going to lose him. Anders was injured too and I wasn’t sure Fenris would make it until Anders could heal him.”

“I…I didn’t know.” It was barely a whisper.

Standing face to face with Isabela was more difficult than she’d imagined. It was so easy to slip into anger with her, to begrudge the pirate her callous nature. Sekhmet’s stomach soured as her mood shifted back to their familiar roles. “Of course you didn’t. You left us all to die for that book.”

Isabela’s jaw jutted out stubbornly, picking up her usual thread of unapologetic defiance. “I knew you could handle yourselves.”

Her fingers dug a little harder into Izzy’s arm unintentionally as her ire coiled tight in her gut. “And if someone had died?”

“No one did.” Isabela was trying so hard for glib, but it fell short.

She let Isabela’s arm go, the coil tightening inside of her, curling around and around like a spring ready to pounce. “It was a near thing.”

“You should have just had Anders turn them all to ash.” Isabela’s voice grated, almost accusatory.

The coil vanished, not unwound, just disappeared with her momentary surprise. Although, she wasn’t sure why she should be surprised, Varric and his big mouth weren’t exactly news. “That’s wasn’t Anders.”

Isabela snorted, “Keep telling yourself that.”

She wanted to slap her, shake her, anything to make Isabela wake up and pay attention to the real issue here. But, it was an old song and dance. Isabela was like a well seasoned pan, nothing stuck to her. She was responsible for nothing, and no one. Not even herself, when she could swing it. 

It was why they always fought. Isabela wanted fun, with no strings attached. And Sekhmet, she at least wanted a little loyalty. She helped those who traveled with them and wanted to know they had her back if push came to shove. With Isabela, you could never trust it, which she had so spectacularly demonstrated that night at the foundry.

And Isabela was deflecting at this point. And though she gave Anders a lot of leeway with deflection, Isabela’s avoidance for months had robbed Sekhmet of any benevolence she’d felt about such behaviors. She would hold Isabela to account, and she would get a straight answer, or she would write off the so called “Pirate Queen of Llomeryn” for good.

“Anders’ abilities aren’t the point, Izzy.” And she wasn’t going to get into yet another argument about Anders, especially not with Isabela of all people.

Isabela smirked, as if she had won some kind of point. “Maybe if you were enjoying Anders’ abilities more we wouldn’t be standing here having this pointless argument.”

Anger washed over her again and she only just managed not to deck Isabela, her hand clenched and her fingers itched to feel the thud of flesh connecting with flesh. Izzy was a hairsbreadth from pushing Sekhmet too far, a word or two from being dragged into an all out fist fight… or worse 

To insinuate that all Sekhmet needed was a decent fuck to get over Isabela’s foolish and incredibly selfish actions, actions that had nearly cost her the life of someone she considered a friend, was going too far. “I don’t know why I waste my time with you, Isabela. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself. “

Her heart was beating fast in her chest, priming for a fight, as she laid her charges at Isabela’s feet. “You left us there to die. You only came back when you realized the Qunari were far more implacable enemies than Castillon could ever be.” 

She watched with satisfaction as Isabela paled and Sekhmet continued her tirade. “Did you honestly think I would be fooled into thinking that was a selfless act? Do you even know the definition of the word selfless?”

Sekhmet was having a hard time keeping her voice down as her anger started to slip her tenuous control. “And then you abandoned Fenris, as if nothing ever happened between you two. Do you have any idea what that did to him? Do you care?” 

Being around Fenris these past few months had been nearly unbearable. He was constantly angry and bitter now. His brief moments of humor were a thing of the past. He was so somber and serious it was hard to be around him at times.

Sekhmet shook her head, “You know what, never mind. That was a stupid question. Clearly, you don’t. Why don’t you do us all a favor and disappear for good instead of hanging around like a damned ghost with unfinished business.”

Isabela’s lower lip trembled and for a moment Sekhmet thought the pirate queen might cry. She just stood there staring at Sekhmet, as if she couldn’t decide what to do before blurting awkwardly, “I don’t do the whole love thing.”

“And? It never sounded to me like he was asking for that.” Fenris had seemed happy with just someone to share his time and his bed with. 

Izzy, never one to face her problems, turned away, again. “It’s not your concern, Hawke.”

She was right, it wasn’t. But, Fenris had been more miserable than usual in the months since the Arishok had attacked the city, and Sekhmet knew Isabela was a big part of that. He felt betrayed and abandoned by her. Not that the elf would ever say those things himself. 

Which, might be why Sekhmet felt such a strong urge to make Isabela accountable for her actions, because Fenris never would. “He’s my friend.”

Isabela snorted, “Is that what you call it? I thought he was just convenient, a backup plan for when Anders is out of commission or when you’re in a snit and not talking to Anders.”

There were truth to her words, but a truth long since past. Or at least it seemed that way to Sekhmet. “Maybe, but I never abandoned him, never left him when he needed me.” 

“No? Then how did I end up in his bed?” More self righteous venom from the dusky vixen.

But she was mistaken, and had misjudged what had taken place between Sekhmet and Fenris, not that much of anything ever had. “You don’t know half as much as you think you do, Isabela. Fenris was the one who ended things between us, not me.”

Surprise flashed across Isabela’s face, like sunlight glinting off water and disappeared just as quickly.

“Do something decent for someone else once in your life, Isabela. Give Fenris peace, one way or another.” Was it too much to hope for that Isabela would come to her senses and realize how good she’d had it before the stint with the book?

A long silence stretched the gulf between them, both just watching each other. A gulf of silence and a mountain of tension, surrounded by the momentarily banked coals of each of their barely restrained anger. Was there any way they could find a way to meet in the middle of that mess?

Finally, Isabela spun on her heel. “Fine, I’ll fucking leave, I should have left this Maker forsaken hole years ago anyway. No more drinking the rat flavored swill in this shit hole…” Her tirade continued as she disappeared out of sight.

Well, that could have certainly gone better. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. She should have known it was too much to hope that they might overcome such a mess.

She and Isabela were like oil and water when they got together. It was a shame, in a lot ways they had much in common. They just couldn’t seem to see eye to eye for some reason, except when they were drinking together. Then they got along swimmingly. Sekhmet, frustrated, sighed and realized there was nothing else she could do for now. Things with Izzy would work out, or they wouldn’t.

With that unpleasantness out of the way she was all the more eager to see her beloved. A little time with Anders was just what her battered spirit needed to soothe it right now. She very much wanted to curl up into his lap and bask in his sweetness. She’d head home first; see if Orana had made something she could take to Anders to eat. Knowing him he hadn’t bothered to feed himself.

********

Anders had been surprised when Sekhmet came through the clinic’s doors. She’d told him a couple days ago she had a few things she needed to look into on her own and he hadn’t seen much of her since. Each night she returned to the estate clearly exhausted, she’d wolf down some food, and then crawl into bed too tired to even make love, but he never got the sense she was in danger. 

Settling heavily and a tad ungracefully on the other side of the desk Sekhmet set her pack upon it. Carefully, she began to take things from her pack and set them out. He smiled when he saw what she was carrying. Fantastic wife that she was, she had brought him some soup and sandwiches so they could enjoy a late lunch. 

Pleased and relieved to see her he reached out and touched her cheek letting a little rejuvenation spell settle over her. She clearly needed it. What had she been up to that left her so tired? And why were her eyes so guarded? “Are you alright, darling?”

She smiled, her body relaxing the slightest and nodded, “Yes, and I’ve finished with what I was doing. I didn’t find exactly what I was looking for, but…Fenris should be satisfied.”

He furrowed his brows; she’d been exhausting herself doing something for Fenris? “Fenris?” He tried to tamp down the jealous flare that rolled through him. Even now he could feel her, feel how happy and relieved she was to be with him. His jealousy had no business here.

She looked up from her soup, “Yes, he was worried about our contact. I’ve been trying to see if he’s in any danger and doing my best to put into place a few safe guards for him.”

He wanted to ask again about her informant in the Gallows but it was one of the few things she refused him. With all the good some of the messages did the mages within the Gallows as well as the Underground he left it alone, happy for any help they could get. He couldn’t imagine what kind of safeguards she could possibly put into place for a Templar though.

He was about to ask when a middle aged man with dark stringy hair came running into the clinic, “Healer…Healer, it’s time. The babe is coming.” 

Anders stood up, stomach already aflutter with excitement and nerves, whispering an apology to Sekhmet. He’d love to stay and eat with her, but this particular woman’s last pregnancy had been breech and he was worried about complications. “I have to go.”

“I know,” she stood and grabbed his bag, “let me come with you.”

“Are you sure?” An extra pair of hands was always nice, but if something went poorly he wasn’t sure how she would react, especially considering what he now knew about her past. But to deliver a child with her by his side…it was a memory he knew he would cherish. In light of that he couldn’t bring himself to suggest she stay behind.

“I don’t know enough to help properly, but I’ll do what I can.” She seemed earnest in her desire to go with him.

“Alright, let’s get going, quickly.” He took the bag from her and followed the man back to his family’s make shift dwelling, feeling Sekhmet’s presence a few steps behind him the whole way. He marveled for a moment that just her presence could bring him such peace and comfort. The vague agitation he’d been feeling all day had vanished like morning fog, burnt away by the rising sun.

They reached their destination quickly. The man’s wife was leaning against a rough beam panting when they arrived. She looked relieved to see Anders, and he couldn’t help feel good about that. It was one of the great perks about being a healer. Healers were one of the very few mages a non mage was ever glad to see, even though it was still a rare occurrence. And the people in Darktown were more welcoming that most he’d ever known.

It took him a moment to recall the couple’s names, Seela and Leon, and this would be their third child, and the second Anders himself had delivered. “How are you doing, Seela?” He asked as he set his bag down and took a quick survey of the room. It was private at least, and surprisingly clean. Wait, not surprising when he thought of it; he seemed to remember something about Seela being a maid back in Ferelden.

“It’ll be soon now, healer.” She went rigid, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her hands into fists.

He let a small shower of magic touch her, easing her discomfort some. Taking all the pain was dangerous; if something went wrong the mother might not realize it right away, which meant Anders might now know until it was too late. But, he could ease it some. 

When the contraction passed he moved closer. “I’m going to check you now. You remember the magic feels a little cool and tingling?”

She nodded, looking tired. 

He touched her softly with his magic. Seela was right, she was very close. And there was good news, “Everything looks good. This one’s the right way round.”

Her husband sighed in obvious relief. “May I stay healer?”

Anders shrugged, he didn’t care either way but some women were very set in the old ways. “What do you say, Seela? Should we let Leon stay?”

Anders could feel Sekhmet moving behind him, but it was just a peripheral knowing. His focus was on his patient and the child he was about to help lead into the world. Having her there with him did add an extra layer of meaning to the whole blessed event and he was more nervous than usual for a routine delivery. 

Sekhmet placed a large bowl of water on the floor next to him and flashed him an uneasy smile. Was this touching her too in some way? Was she wondering if they might ever have a day like this? Anders thought she would look breathtaking round with their child. Quickly, he pushed the thought out of his mind. They’d left that discussion behind with good reason.

For the moment he had more than enough worries to contend with. Things with Justice were precarious as it was without adding any more to it. And just now there were definitely more pressing matters to be paying attention to, like the woman whose child he was supposed to be delivering.

“You can stay, Leon.” His wife murmured just before another contraction gripped her. She grunted and did her best to breathe through it. Anders was always amazed by how many women managed not to scream during labor. They put on such brave faces for their men, making it seem as if birth wasn’t about the most painful experience a person could endure. Women were incredible creatures.

When her contraction passed Anders checked her again. “Soon, I promise.” He soothed, hoping, for her sake, it was over quickly. “He’s anxious to see the world.” He waived Sekhmet over, “I want you and Leon to support her arms and walk her around a bit, it will speed the process.”

“Shouldn’t she be in bed?” Sekhmet asked.

“No, trust me this is better.” He searched through his bag to check his knife was properly sharpened. It had to be very sharp to cut the cord tethering child to mother cleanly. It looked good, very sharp, and he quickly heated the blade to red hot. 

If his spirit healing instructor could see him now she’d probably have a fit. Half of the things she had taught him over the years he’d thrown out the window. The spirit of compassion, who Anders called Solace, because that’s what she had been to him all those years ago when they met in the Fade and most of the years in between. The beautiful soothing spirit that helped him heal was not as passive as many other spirits who aided healers. Or, at least she hadn’t been before Justice.

She had ideas learned from centuries of helping healers. And who was Anders to nay say someone with that much experience? The two of them had always had a different relationship than most healers and the spirits who aided them. 

Anders spoke with her, treated her as a person rather than just a convenience. Most importantly he had listened to her. And she had seemed pleased by their exchange, the more Anders listened the more she taught, the more she showed him. 

It had been beautiful and incredible. 

In the years since his merger with Justice she had become much quieter, more leery of him but she had thankfully not abandoned him. She did refuse to help Justice and Anders could not blame her. She was such a gentle soul that Justice must seem very harsh indeed to her.

He often felt that Justice had crippled him as a healer, making it so difficult to feel what Solace did. And perhaps it was only wishful thinking on Anders’ part, but he could swear some of that numbness had been disappearing as of late, especially in the last few months. He felt more in tune with his spirit of compassion than he had in years. 

Odd that his connection to Solace should seem to be reforging itself at the same time he felt the odd connection to Sekhmet.

He felt the faint brush of urgency from Solace, signaling the time was near. “Okay, bring her here. Support her, but keep her upright.”

Sekhmet and Leon walked slowly with Seela. Anders had her squat low, weight mostly supported by Sekhmet and her husband holding her under the arms. Kneeling in preparation for the birth he had her bear down with her contractions, which were coming very close together now. He felt the faint ripple of fear he always felt when delivering a child, but it was overshadowed by the excitement.

Glancing up he caught Sekhmet’s eyes. Yes, there was definitely something there, something she was feeling strongly. It tingled like barely grazing fingers across the back of his neck. He could feel her fear, sharp, bitter notes. There was excitement too, a single filament of excitement and hope touching him, adding to his own. 

He had a mad urge to take Sekhmet in his arms and kiss her, to whisper that all would be well. A slow smile spread across his face, and he hoped it was reassuring, both for Sekhmet and Seela. With another contraction he pulled his attention back to the delivery. Would Sekhmet scream at delivery, or would she try to be stoic like brave little Seela?

He had to stop this madness, stop imaging a life he would never have; his patient needed him. Seela grunted, and sweat poured from her body but she never called out. Leon’s excitement made his voice reverberate off the walls as he offered encouragement to his beautiful wife. Leon looked to his with in awe and utter devotion. Love like that only came from overcoming the impossible together. Or at least that was how Anders liked to imagine it.

Unable to stop himself, Anders chanced a few more glances at Sekhmet as time ticked by waiting for the child to be born. As time passed, slowly as it always seemed to during a birth, Sekhmet seemed to relax more, the fear seemed to be letting her go, Anders could barely feel it now. As for her, her face was flushed with excitement and she looked happy and amazed. Anders had been afraid to see something else, to see the fear grow, or possibly something worse. But, she was beautiful and radiant as she watched Seela and Leon together.

It was over relatively quickly, as far as deliveries go. This was Seela’s third child and without the complication of a breech birth things had gone very smoothly, about as routine as a birth could get. Anders quickly cut the cord and tied it before cleaning out the baby’s mouth and settling him gently down on the towels at his feet. The after birth followed, messy but also without complications.

He healed Seela quickly and checked her son for any signs of deformity or illness. With the boy screaming like he was it seemed he was healthy enough, but Anders checked him over all the same. Content the boy was healthy and whole, he cleaned the beautiful boy while Leon helped Seela to bed. Anders was happy to nestle the little one in his mother’s arms. The beaming smiles on both parents were a sight to behold.

He and Sekhmet stayed to clean things up before slipping back into Darktown to let the family enjoy their newest member on their own. Anders felt good and faintly hollow, but mostly elated like he always did after delivering a child. Babies never became mundane to him; each was its own miracle.

Feeling good he took Sekhmet’s hand, happy to have her with him. A tune played through his mind and he tugged Sekhmet closer, slipping his arm around her he led her through a few quick turns, humming out loud as he danced with her. Bending her backwards for a dip he kissed her softly, and thoroughly. 

“Maker’s breath, do you have any idea how much I love you?” Grinning like a fool he let her go and took her hand again. He was glad they’d gotten to experience that together. Even if they never had a child he would always remember this day, sharing this with her. 

Sekhmet looked to him with one raised brow, but didn’t say anything. Poor thing, she must be exhausted now. She’d looked tired when she come to the clinic earlier and that had been hours ago.

As they walked Sekhmet was completely silent, staring at the ground. Had bringing her been a bad idea after all? She seemed upset now and the connection between them just felt heavy, almost oppressive. He couldn’t discern any particular emotions though. His magic, he wanted to touch her with his magic, renew the connection and strengthen it again. 

It wasn’t safe enough here though. He’d have to rely on more conventional methods of determining her mood. “Are you alright?” He asked gently.

She nodded, but didn’t look at him. They walked the rest of the way to the clinic in silence. He wouldn’t push her, he couldn’t even imagine the things she might be feeling right now. This made it clear how much he’d come to rely on the connection between them.

It was still there, but because he couldn’t understand what she was feeling he was becoming anxious. He wanted so desperately to touch her with his magic again; it was almost a bit troubling. But he was just worried, concerned for her. Or at least that was what he was telling himself.

At least Sekhmet seemed to relax once they were back inside the clinic. She immediately picked up the small pot of soup and took it to the fire to heat. Anders cleaned and put away his tools as she hovered over the fire, her gaze seemingly lost amongst the flickering flames.

Once again she set out the food. The bread of their sandwiches had hardened while they were gone but they just dipped them into their soup. As they ate she would flash him smiles that looked almost shy periodically and wasn’t that the oddest thing?

It was all he could do not to push her. Her silence was making him feel awful, like he’d done something wrong. She seemed about to speak a couple times but stopped and looked around the clinic as if she were waiting for something. He did his best to be patient, but his worry was making it hard not to press her, focusing on his food instead. 

She finished her sandwich and dusted the crumbs off her trousers. Flashing him another smile, so unsure it was hard to recognize it as belonging to her, she spoke. “I want to try.”

Anders quirked a brow, “Try?” Sweet Andraste, where was this going? Was he going to regret being so eager to hear this?

Her smile faltered a little, “A child, your child. I want to try.”

Anders’ heart felt like it careened to a stop in his chest. He’d never thought to hear those words from her, had in fact thought the conversation over and done with. After finding out all she had gone through he’d dropped the issue of children altogether. Over the last weeks he’d been slowly trying to make himself accept the reality of never having children.

Now, he felt caught between nervousness and excitement. 

There were so many factors to think about. Sekhmet, while not old by any stretch of the imagination, was an unusual age to start trying to have children. Anders was a Warden, and might be sterile. 

And Sekhmet might just be riding on the emotions of the birth she’d just witnessed. “Are you sure?” Could she hear the desperate hope in his voice?

She nodded, “I know how badly you want one. I can see that wistful look in your eyes every time you see one, hold one.” She gave a small shrug, “And maybe I won’t be a completely horrible mother.”

Guilt, like a heavy weight, pressed down on him. He was afraid of that; afraid she would do it just for him, to make him happy. He didn’t need children though, he had her and that could be enough. “Don’t do this for me, Sekhmet. You’ll never be happy that way.”

She didn’t even hesitate when she responded. “I want a family, our family.”

He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe she really wanted this. But, he would be careful. “I’ll look into it; see what we need to do. Think about it though, I want you to be sure.” 

He wanted it to be yes, wanted desperately to believe she wanted a child as badly as he did. She would have to carry the child though, and once the child was conceived she could not change her mind. Anders would not allow her to end the pregnancy, not when it was his child. So, she had to be sure, really sure, this was what she truly wanted.

Sekhmet nodded, “I am.” She laughed suddenly, “I was afraid you would have changed your mind after what I told you.”

Anders took her hand, “No, I just didn’t want to pressure you, especially after what you went through.” He kissed her hand. “I mean it though, Sekhmet. Please, don’t do this for me.” He pushed the words past his lips, not that he didn’t mean them, he did. He just worried that every syllable pulled him farther from the prospect of being a father.

*********

Even as cautious as he was trying to be, cautious and hopeful, he’d started looking into Warden pregnancies that very night. He had been quickly discouraged; it seemed what little information he could find about Warden pregnancies were based on blood magic. As much as Anders wanted a child he would not resort to blood magic to have one.

Justice, who Anders could barely feel at all in the presence of Sekhmet now, had finally spoken up when Anders was in the estate alone. _“I believe you are making this too complicated.”_

Anders could feel Justice’s obvious discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

After a long moment of silence the spirit continued, _“This is a bad idea, the two of you as parents. We have a mission.”_

That seemed about right. It spoke of Anders’ whole pursuit of the idea of having a child. Getting that glimmer of hope just to have it snatched away. Frustrated and more than a little upset with his failure so far, he snapped at Justice. “So, why say anything at all?”

Justice’s response was immediate and Anders could feel the spirit’s excitement briefly. _“I find that I am intrigued by the idea. Has there ever been a spirit before with a child?”_

Anders felt incredibly uncomfortable at the thought. The life he had envisioned with Sekhmet and their child definitely did not include a daddy Justice. Perhaps he and Sekhmet hadn’t really considered all of the ramifications of what they were about to attempt.

Justice sensed his unease. _“You misunderstand me, friend. What better way is there to understand humanity than to observe a child? I wonder if it will learn things in a similar manner to how I have learned about the mortal realm.”_

He still didn’t know if he was alright with Justice having access to a child. And he would discuss that with Sekhmet before they proceeded. But, he still had to find a way to make a pregnancy feasible in the first place. If it would give them the chance to have a child together he could listen to the spirit at least. “So, tell me your thoughts. How am I making this too complicated?”

_“You are looking for a spell, for one thing that will absolutely allow you to conceive, something that is not blood magic or related to such magics. Which, I want to point out is irrational. However, what if instead of looking for a single answer you and Hawke pool your knowledge.”_

“Meaning what?”

_“You are a healer, Anders. You can make her womb ready to receive your seed. You can make sure your seed is in optimal condition to implant inside of her. She has an extensive understanding of herb lore, are there not herbs that assist with fertility? And for that matter, are there not spells, those not related to blood magic, that are said to aid in fertility?”_

Could it really be so simple? Could they really just try several fairly innocuous methods and expect a good result? It seemed too simple, too easy. And Anders had come not to trust things that came easily. Still, everything Justice suggested had merit. 

He began writing down a list. There was a sigil that was supposed to help with fertility. He would need to look it up to make sure he got the lines correct. 

It would take him less than a minute to check the health of his seed each day, to make them as potent as possible and to make sure they were not too damaged. And if there was a problem with the production of new seed, he was a healer. Could he not heal most, if not all, damage the taint might be responsible for? He hadn’t been a Warden all that long, or so he hoped. 

As far as Sekhmet, he already used healing magic during their love making on occasion. It wouldn’t be too difficult to make sure her body was as receptive as possible or to make sure her eggs were viable. And as for her overall health, she was in superb condition for any age. 

This might actually work.

The more he wrote the more hope he started to feel. None of these things would hurt them. None of them would leave the two of them feeling as if they were compromising too much of their morals to attempt to have a child. He couldn’t wait for Sekhmet to come home, to share the news with her. 

He’d ask her first; make sure she hadn’t changed her mind before he told her he might have a way to accomplish it. Suddenly, he stopped, sitting back in the chair heavily. The weight of what was happening finally hitting him, a child would change everything, change their whole lives.

Could he bring a child, very possibly a mage child, into this world? Could he in good conscience consign it to whatever fate he himself was heading for? Could he manage fighting for the cause of mages as well as being a father? Or would the simple act of conceiving a child already be proof of his failure as a father? 

His mind raced, he could spend a lifetime contemplating these things and never be any closer to an answer than he was now. And that word ‘father’ swam around and around inside of him. Dizzying laps around his heart making it flutter. 

The truth was they were running out of time. Every single day they waited to try to have a child it would be more difficult for both of them. The taint was eating away at Anders’ body and time was wreaking its own havoc on Sekhmet’s.

Right or not, if Sekhmet agreed he was doing this. He wanted a daughter, or a son, and if he was really lucky, both. He was eager to be a father, and Sekhmet seemed to want to be a mother, at least to his child. And so, they would face everything else as they came to it, together.


	61. Claimed

Anders heard the front door open and close, Sekhmet was finally home. Her arrival heralded a mixture of happiness and anxiety. She’d spent the day helping Varric with a favor for the Merchant’s Guild, making one more influential group in Kirkwall that now owed her a favor. 

Anders had been glad when Sekhmet had told him she didn’t think they would need him for the day. He’d needed time to think, and still hadn’t come to a conclusion. Instead, he’d spent the day trying, and mostly failing, to work on his manifesto.

Justice had chided him several times, that Anders was being foolish. It was a refrain he was used to from the spirit now. Justice’s silence had ended three months ago when Anders and Sekhmet decided to try to have a child.

He counseled Anders, gave him ideas for things to try, and even tried to help Anders with his manifesto, but only so long as Sekhmet was out of the estate. When Sekhmet was there Justice retreated so far back it almost felt to Anders as if the spirit was gone for good. Not a single stray thought touched Anders’ mind.

When Sekhmet was away Justice plagued Anders with questions he couldn’t answer. Why had Anders forbidden Sekhmet to tell anyone they were married, when even Cullen knew they were lovers? Why did Sekhmet cry in her sleep so often, now? How could Anders feel Sekhmet when she wasn’t even in the estate? Why did Anders insist Sekhmet let Sebastian escort her to so many of the parties she was still invited too?

And Justice was far from appeased with an answer as pathetic as “I don’t know.” But it was the only answer Anders could offer. Or perhaps it was just the only one he would allow himself to even think.

It had been three months of trying and Sekhmet still did not carry his child. The longer it took the more agitated Anders could feel himself getting. Sometimes, when he held Sekhmet in the middle of the night, while she wept in her sleep his mind touched an idea around the edges, skimming around it, afraid to face it head on. Even now, he could not let himself really think it.

Instead, he thought of Sekhmet who had just come through the door, his beautiful wife who spent so much of her time on another man’s arm. There were much fewer parties now, the fervor around Sekhmet being named Champion was finally dying down. Even still, Anders and Sebastian took turns being Sekhmet’s escort. 

She hadn’t wanted to go with Sebastian at first, not after what had happened with Cullen. But, Anders had persisted and she had finally relented. And now his darling wife got a kick out of the rumors this constant trading of men was generating. Oddly enough, the nobles seemed to like her even more than they had previously. 

The noble women were especially amusing. They would smile and wink at Anders or Sebastian and make comments about how lucky the Champion was or how nice it must be to be the Champion. The men mostly made off color comments about her clearly being too much woman for either of the men to handle alone.

Sending her off with Sebastian again hadn’t managed to save Sebastian completely from the women flocking to try to scoop up a prince with a broken heart. But the Chantry brother did confide in Sekhmet that after he resumed attending parties with her the number of women who were suddenly interested in him did decrease quite a bit. Apparently, most noble women had no interest in competing with the Champion of Kirkwall for the dispossessed prince’s favor.

Anders smiled, thoughts moving into the present, when he heard Sekhmet coming up behind him. Expecting her to wrap her arms around him as she usually did, he was more than a little surprised when she grabbed his pony tail and tugged his head to the side. Sparks of pleasure shot through him when she sank her teeth into the side of his neck, all thoughts of talking with her evaporated like morning dew.

Fuck, when she pulled his hair like that he went from relaxed to desperate to bed her in half a second. His eyes shut as pleasure coursed through his body. He fought the urge to reach around and grab her, slam her on the desk and fuck her until she could barely walk. The fight got harder every time she pulled this shit. _“This is my wife, I love her. She’s not just some woman I’m looking to get off with.”_ He reminded himself for about the millionth time. 

Why she kept doing this, kept pushing him he couldn’t imagine. Did she really want him to treat her as carelessly as he’d treated lovers in the past? Anders cared for her too much for that. She was different, special. He wouldn’t use her like he’d used so many others. He wouldn’t treat her as anything other than the incredible gift that she was. 

With her, sex was more than just recreation, just a momentary reprieve from captivity. They made love, and Anders treasured that more than he could ever articulate. He’d stopped looking for love years ago and his life had become nothing but a series of momentary releases. Sex had been Anders’ drug of choice for a little escape from reality. 

Even in the Wardens as he watched people around him fall in love, all he’d been able to do was grab onto a series of fake connections, the false closeness of orgasm. It had been shallow and empty and everyday with Sekhmet just made it more clear how empty all that fucking had been. He wouldn’t go back to it, wouldn’t give up the connection and closeness, the sheer feeling of together they experienced for the momentary pleasure of fucking her until she screamed. 

She licked the bite mark on his neck then kissed it gently, “I had a shitty day.”

Taking slow deep breaths through his nose to control his now rampaging libido he asked, “Anything I can do to help?” Now more than ever he needed to be fully with her, needed to be present and paying attention when they made love. 

Her other hand snaked down into his tunic and her short nails scratched against his skin a little. Andraste’s ass, she was hitting all his buttons today, pulling his hair, biting him, scratching him. She was asking for trouble. 

She bit him again, at the same time pulling his hair harder and digging her nails into his chest. Anders gripped the desk to keep his hands off her. Desire had become a deep yawning chasm inside of him aching, screaming for her. He wanted her bent over in front of him, spread out across his desk and writhing on his cock. 

_“Love her, love her, love her.”_ He repeated the mantra to himself over and over and over, using it like bricks in a wall he tried to build between himself and the part of him that liked to fuck: fast and dirty, rough and raunchy. 

And the little vixen wasn’t done with him yet. She unlatched from his neck long enough to move so she was standing beside him. Instead of scratching his chest she reached lower, tugging his laces free and burrowing her hand into his trousers and inside his smalls. His cock practically leapt at her touch and he couldn’t stop the moan from leaving his lips, but she wasn’t looking for his cock.

Her small hand twisted and moved until she could get to his scrotum. She delicately licked the shell of his ear before moving back to his neck and biting him in the same spot she’d just abandoned moments ago. It was still sensitive and the new bite over the last one made Anders moan and his cock throb.

And when her nails lightly grazed his scrotum he almost jumped out of the chair. He actually saw himself ripping her clothes off, before he realized it was just his mind playing out a tawdry fantasy. Sweet fucking Maker, she really was trying to kill him. 

Images of picking her up and slamming her against the wall to fuck her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her tits bare, her sensitive nipples rubbing against the fabric of his tunic, her eyes glazed in pleasure as his hips slammed against her fast and hard, filling her completely with each stroke, feeling her sex clench against him…flitted through his mind, followed by other images. Her lying on his desk, legs spread wide offering her sex up to him like a tasty buffet, her skin streaked with wet ink from his fingers and his manifesto, the pages fluttering to the ground unheeded as he smeared the wet ink across her flesh, cupping, kneading her tits, thumbs sliding over her nipples and down her ribs, turning her skin into a canvas for some peculiar piece of art by a deranged artist, his lips and tongue tasting her, making her moan. 

He was shaking as more images came to him, each raunchier than the last, he dug his fingers into the desk harder. He wasn’t sure if the desk or his fingers would break first, but if he touched her now, gods help her. “Sekhmet, please stop.” He rasped out between gritted teeth even as his magic started wisping up from his fingers, already eager to touch her. 

She tugged his hair again, but stopped biting him long enough to reply. “Do it, please Anders.”

“No,” he couldn’t. It would destroy too much, would break that incredible connection they had, he knew it would. And he was scared enough already that he was losing it, was losing her. 

His magic dissipated on the tide of his fear. And what an unfair and cruel trick that was. When he wanted her the most, needed to feel that connection, needed to know she was with him, his magic abandoned him.

Sekhmet was needy and impatient, her hand moved to wrap around his cock, stroking it slowly. “Fuck me Anders, I know you want to. I want you to. I need you to.”

He shook his head, “I can’t,” and it was like torture getting those words out, his throat was tight and constricted. His body screamed and raged at him, _“fuck her, take her now”_ , it demanded. That voice that he had followed all too often in years past. But Anders clung to the beat of his heart, to that desire to love and cherish Sekhmet.

She tightened her hold on his cock a little, “Then promise to let me do anything I want to you.”

He agreed, gladly. Regardless of her past she was still pretty innocent in the things she’d experienced sexually. Not to mention, he liked the idea of her having all the control. He’d rarely given up control in the past, so to him it was another way to deepen the connection. It was a way to show her how much he loved and trusted her. 

“Yes,” it came out almost as a hiss and he tugged her forward a little until she released him completely. He pulled her down onto his lap, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as her arms immediately wound around his neck, “just kiss me first.” He needed that, needed to feel that she really loved him. Needed to show her, as best he could that he loved her.

A hungry purr rumbled deep in his chest when their lips connected, she was even kissing him aggressively, her hands clutching at him, pulling at him as her tongue thrust into his mouth. Enjoying the potency of the kiss he picked her up, only the briefest flash of fucking her against the wall flitted through his mind before he headed to their room. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into her to make her so demanding and aggressive, but he thought he rather liked it, even as he struggled with it. As long as she stayed in control it should be safe.

They’d barely made it through the door when she pushed at his arms and broke the kiss. He set her down gently and she immediately started tugging off his clothes. With a soft chuckle he helped her until they were both naked. Her eyes narrowed, looking predatory as she stalked towards him. He almost laughed when she shoved him towards the bed. Did she think he would fight her?

Climbing onto the bed he froze when she bit his ass. He squeezed his eyes shut as she dug her teeth into the muscle of his buttock. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Making his body scream, as his blood ran hot and hungry through his veins, did she realize how hard it was getting for him to fight against his baser nature? “You’re going to have to tie me up if you keep biting me.” His voice came out like a low growl, he was so close to snapping.

She moved away from him and smacked him lightly on the ass, “Get into bed, Anders.” She barked it, like an order making Anders’ knees weak. Oh yes, he liked her like this.

Anders complied and laid back on the bed, watching warily as Sekhmet slowly crawled over him. Immediately, she knelt astride him, kissing and caressing his bared skin. At least she’d stopped biting him. He relaxed as he enjoyed her more tender ministrations.

Settling across his hips she kissed and nuzzled his neck. “Anything I want, right?”

“Anything,” he whispered in reply, his long, delicate fingers traced over the dips and curves of her body. She probably wanted to ride him, she liked being on top, liked watching the muscles in his abdomen move as they made love. She would joke about his dragon dancing for her.

Sekhmet shifted her weight above him, trailing kisses down his neck. Each press of her lips brought a faint tingle of pleasure to his skin and he tipped his head back affording her better access. He could sit here all day while she kissed and nipped at his delicate skin pulling quiet moans from him as desire now rolled through him in slow ever building waves. The compulsive drive, the need to fuck her had dissolved and was replaced with a slower pace, a sweet, teasing build.

Shifting again she moved down to his chest and laved her tongue over one of his nipples. Unlike a lot of men Anders had sensitive nipples, a fact both he and she enjoyed greatly. He opened his eyes, dark with lust to watch her enjoy his body.

Anders had never been overly fond of his body, even when other seemed to appreciate it. He knew he was too tall, his legs, arms and fingers were all a little too long. All the running he did kept him in decent enough shape, toned at least. But Sekhmet always made him feel like the sexiest man she had ever seen. 

He could see the desire when she looked at him, could feel it in the reverent way she touched and kissed him. She liked the light dusting of golden hair over his body that he’d always thought of as too little and completely unmasculine. There was a smattering of freckles across his shoulders and she’d often kiss them and tell him she could see constellations in those dusky dots; that those freckles made him both of the earth below and the starry sky above. 

His beautiful lioness soothing and stroking his ego with a hundred such phrases, making him feel special, loved, cherished. To her, his scars were proof of the strength of his character and determination. Each one like a badge of honor, and her lips had traversed almost all of them a hundred times. She made him feel worthy. He only wished he was half so eloquent with his admiration of her. 

As she caught his nipple between her teeth, biting down just a little, his magic, unbidden as usual, began to seek her out. He felt it touching her, tendrils moving from his fingers to skate slowly down her back, and everywhere it touched her he could feel it, as if it were his fingers touching her. A faint reflection of her emotions always washed over him moments later. 

And the more engrossed they became with each other the more it would seek her out. Not just from his hands, but eventually from everywhere, for every pore, from his lips and tongue, from every part of him. He’d stopped being afraid of it finally, realizing it didn’t hurt her. 

And it always brought another layer to the connection between them. Each time this happened, each time his magic touched her, caressed her, and eventually, enveloped her, the bond between them the odd connection that allowed him to feel her, even when she was gone, grew stronger. 

Another moan escaped his lips when her nail scraped lightly over his other nipple and he could feel her smiling against his skin. She moved her attention to his other nipple, leaving the first one hard and rapidly cooling without the heat of her mouth. One of her small hands slid down to let a calloused finger trace over the flat planes of his abdomen. As much as she teased him about that dragon she loved to trace its serpentine shape.

Anders’ hand slid to the back of her neck and kneaded the muscles there. It must have been a rough day, she was still tense. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back to the pillow as he tried to relax more. If he could feel a little of her emotions when his magic was caressing her, perhaps the opposite was also true. Sometimes his body took a while to realize that this was the one place he could completely relax. In this room, in their bed, in her arms he was truly free in a way he never could be anywhere else.

As if to reinforce the idea Sekhmet took a wrist in each hand and kissed them before setting them down on the bed beside him. “Relax, my love. Let me take good care of you.”

Anders exhaled a breath he had not realized he had been holding and kept his hands in place on the bed as she caressed the skin of his abdomen and side with her hand and lavished attention on his chest with her mouth. His magic still flowed from his finger tips, drifting up to caress her breasts lightly before slipping over her shoulders and flowing down her back. 

Sekhmet barely reacted other than a soft sigh of pleasure. She was used to him touching her with his magic by now, and seemed to enjoy it. He just wished he could control it better. Imagine all the things he could do if he could wield his magic like an extra pair of hands. 

He wanted to taste her again, craving the storm that always seemed to rage within her, wanted to pull her up and kiss her, to hold her close to him and never let her go. But tonight he had promised to let her have whatever she wanted. So, for her, he held himself still and just focused on enjoying the sensations of her touching him. 

He felt her move on the bed but kept his eyes closed until he felt her cheek graze his erection as she placed a kiss just above his navel then another one just below it. His body went rigid realizing what she was planning. The sneaky little minx, he opened his eyes and looked at her, a tone of warning in his voice. “Sekhmet.”

“Hmm” She hummed against his skin as she placed another kiss almost an inch lower than the last. 

He felt his muscles twitch and jump under her lips and tongue as she traced the tip of her tongue over the serpentine dragon on the lower planes of his stomach. And his cock was sliding along the smooth skin of her cheek. But, even as she kissed and teased him she never moved to take him into her mouth even after several long minutes. Maybe he’d been mistaken, or maybe she’d just wanted to tease him. Eventually, bit by bit he slowly started to relax. 

It seemed that had been what she was waiting for; as soon as he relaxed she started moving again. Anders quickly twined his fingers into her white hair holding her head out of reach of his cock and stopped her from moving. He’d said _anything_ , but he hadn’t meant _that_.

She looked up at him with a look between irritation and a pout. “Why won’t you let me do this for you?”

He tugged her hair gently, “Come here.” The idea of her mouth on his cock was exciting for all of a moment. And then memories would flood him, memories of all the women and men from his past whose mouths he’d used for his own pleasure. So many fast releases into countless mouths over the years, so many people he’d talked into giving him that momentary pleasure. 

He’d been proud, years ago, that he’d been the first taste of cum for many of the Circle mages. He was fumbling and awkward when trying to tell Sekhmet how he felt about her, how much he cared for her and admired her strength. But when it came to talking lovers into doing things for him, to him, Anders had been gifted…or maybe cursed with a golden tongue. Mages, Templars, staff and workers at the Keep, merchants, even several of his fellow Wardens had all been swayed by him, had all spent time on their knees, mouths full of Anders’ cock.

No, Sekhmet would never be subjected to having his cock in her mouth. 

She sighed and laid down, resting her head on his abdomen but not moving up for him.

“Sekhmet, please.” He tried keeping his tone even. How could he explain it to her without the tawdry details? For the first time Anders felt a flicker of shame for his past actions. Sekhmet deserved better. There was no emotional connection for him in such an act. To him, it had always been a subservient act. It was hard not to feel momentarily superior when you were watching someone else suck your cock and swallow your cum.

She turned her head and kissed his stomach again, “I…want to.” Her voice was soft, quiet.

Anders gave a quiet chuckle, “Sweetheart, no woman wants to do that.”

She looked up at him giving him a sly little smirk, “Are you so sure?”

He cocked his head a little, sizing her up, trying to see what she was getting at. She couldn’t really want it, could she? Surely, she just thought he wanted it. He was about to speak when she interrupted.

“What about you? Have you ever wanted to do that?”

Anders stared at her, unsure how to answer. How did it still surprise him when she asked about him being with other men? She was curious about it, and sometimes he thought she was even aroused by the idea of him with a man. He closed his mouth, frowning. “That’s different.”

“Why,” she was clearly annoyed now, “because you’re a man?”

He shook his head at a loss for words, with his mind searching for an answer to her accusation his fingers loosened in her hair. She moved with that amazing speed of hers and before Anders was completely aware of what was happening, he found himself involuntarily bucking his hips upwards into her warm mouth.

“Dear sweet Maker,” he breathed, his fingers tightening in her hair again, although this time for a completely different reason. A small part of his brain was still telling him this was wrong, that he shouldn’t let her…shouldn’t want her…to do this. But the feel of her tongue swirling on his most sensitive of skin was too much. He couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

His body relaxed marginally, every nerve in his body suddenly seeming to end in her mouth. It took every ounce of his will to keep his hips still after their initial movement. How long had it been? How long since…and just why exactly was she so…so…talented?

He was obviously a weak man, deficient in so many ways. That morally indignant voice screaming in his head to stop her was becoming quieter and quieter as his body reveled in the feeling of her lips wrapped around him, the purple of her painted lips standing out starkly against his flesh. It was a gorgeous sight, incredibly arousing. And he had to ask himself again, how could she possibly love him? 

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to think, any coherent thought at all was a struggle. All he could focus on was the feel of Sekhmet’s mouth on him. And even that slowly became nothing more than a concentrated pinpoint of pleasure.

********

Sekhmet heard Anders’ ragged breathing and smiled inwardly. Anders had a fondness for waking her up with his head between her legs, but he had never let her return the favor. For some reason he had the ridiculous idea that she was, or at least should be, above it, whatever the Void that meant.

But clearly he was enjoying it; and she was relieved. She’d wondered if she could live up to his lovers from the past. He’d had a lot of them before her, men and women. And even though she had thought herself experienced before Anders, she’d learned a while ago her experiences weren’t nearly so…varied as his.

She worried constantly about being able to satisfy Anders. Beyond even the fact that he had an incredible sexual appetite, she worried he might find sex with her boring. Knowing he was constantly holding himself back didn’t improve matters. The idea that he was denying himself in order to protect her, or whatever it was he thought he was doing, troubled her. She wanted to give him as much pleasure as he always gave to her.

She closed her eyes when she felt Anders weaving the fingers of his other hand into her hair. _“Yes, more, please,”_ she so wanted him to let go, to lose that control he always exercised in their lovemaking. He was struggling, seemingly against himself, about what exactly he wanted, holding her still one moment and trying to pull her up the next. Apparently, his brain was finally catching up. 

She chanced a glance up at him to see him with his eyes closed and his head tipped back a bit, lips parted in pleasure. And the magic streaming from his fingertips was tingling against her scalp, stronger than before. It slipped down her scalp and down her back, part of it flowing in runnels down the sides of her neck, and caressing her breasts before dissipating. His magic felt incredible, like tingling rivulets of cool water almost, it made her skin sing.

Running her finger down his inner thigh she felt energy humming under his skin. This was nothing new; Anders never had complete control of suppressing his magic when he was really enjoying himself. It sent a little ripple of pride through her that she was affecting him so. Even the magic caressing her, running down her neck and over her shoulders before cupping around her breasts he wisps running down her back and winding down her legs was stronger now. She loved the way his magic tingled against her skin when it touched her.

Her eyes drifted back shut as she redoubled her efforts. She was bound and determined to make him regret making her wait so long to feel the soft, velvety touch of his cock against her lips. A few seconds later she felt the energy humming along his skin abruptly change, it was a stronger vibration and much less controlled than she had ever experienced with Anders in their bedroom before.

Every part of his skin was tingling like his magic, even his cock. Suddenly, her mouth was filled with the taste of raspberries, strong and sweet. Shocked and worried, because now raspberries always made her think of…but he wouldn’t, he just wouldn’t. 

She opened her eyes and tried to pull away from Anders’ grasp on her hair. The shift in energy hadn’t been Anders losing control of his magic, but Justice coming to the fore. His electric blue eyes stared at her, and she shuddered. 

“Continue.” His voice was as oddly resonate as it always was; his face looked stern in the blue light radiating from the small cracks in his body.

She pulled her head sharply off Anders’ sex, “What?” She asked incredulously, “no.” She tried to pull back again, only to find herself held firmly in place by Justice’s grasp.

Justice canted his head to the side, looking at her curiously. “You wanted to do this for us.” He stated simply.

She struggled not to glare and sound annoyed, “Not you, Anders.”

“Anders and I are one.” He intoned, the blue light seeping from his skin turning almost blinding for a moment.

She almost wanted to weep. Anders would never let her touch him again after this. “Didn’t you say you wanted to stay away from me because of this?”

Justice was quiet for a moment. “I have changed my mind.”

She raised a brow, “Not afraid of becoming a demon anymore?” She reminded herself to be calm and patient with Justice. He didn’t think of things in the same way most people would.

Justice seemed to think it over. “This is different, I am part of Anders, and I want to experience what he experiences.”

Using her own words against her, clever spirit. But, there was one huge difference between Anders and Justice. Or at least she hoped there was. “Do you love me?”

Justice actually blinked at the question, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen him blink before. “Anders…”

She cut him off, “Justice, do you love me?” She grabbed his wrists and moved his hands away from her head. Sitting up she straddled his hips. 

Justice watched her warily.

Sekhmet leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Justice recoiled slightly and she pushed down her anger at the little gesture. Trying to prove a point, she needed to ignore her pride for a few moments.

Slowly, she let the tip of her tongue trace over his lips before placing another soft kiss on them. Justice’s fingers came up and touched his lips as he continued watching her. Taking his hand she placed it on her hip and twined her fingers into his hair. Sweet Andraste she hoped this worked. “Do you love me, Justice?” she whispered against his lips. 

He didn’t respond.

“Do you want to make love to me?” She almost purred in his ear.

Finally, Justice spoke, “Love?”

“Mmm Hmm.” She nuzzled his neck.

“I do not…” he paused sounding unsure. “I do not think I do.”

She pressed him, “Don’t love me, or don’t want to make love to me?”

There was another long pause. “I do not think I love you.”

She pulled back and looked into his odd glowing eyes. “Does Anders love me?”

Justice sighed, something else she had never seen. “He does.”

“So, you know what love is?” She took a moment to wonder that she could be so patient with Justice when she so utterly failed at being patient with anyone else.

Justice nodded. “I believe I understand it.”

She spoke quietly and carefully, wanting Justice to understand. “What Anders and I are doing, we do because we love each other. I don’t want to make love to someone who doesn’t love me. Do you understand?”

“No. Anders has done this act with hundreds of others who he did not love.” It was stated simply, just a fact to Justice.

She quailed inside, hundreds? A bright pinpoint of pain lit up inside of her even as she felt like she was falling off a high cliff. The word reverberated around her again and again…hundreds. Anders had used the word before, but she’d thought he’d been exaggerating. 

He’d had to have been exaggerating, right? But Justice, he had never lied to her, had no reason to do so now. She thought she might be sick. No, no, no, she couldn’t lose focus. “This time it is different.”

Justice scowled, “He did not want you to do this, because he loves you.” 

“I know, but I want to do it. I love him and I want to share it with him because I love him. It does not make him love me any less to allow it.” She absently brushed a lock of hair from Justice’s face. “Do you understand?”

Justice was quiet for a long time before he nodded solemnly, “I believe I do.”

She stroked Justice’s cheek affectionately, hoping to impart that she wasn’t angry with him even as that word threatened to swallow her whole. “You are not exactly one, you and he. He loves me, but you find me tiresome.”

“You are not always tiresome.” Justice’s voice still resonated but it was quieter.

She laughed softly at his sudden gentleness. “Like just now, when I was pleasuring you?”

Justice did not hesitate, “It was nice.”

She gave him a small smile, amused by his guileless nature, “If it makes you feel any better, you tasted nice.”

Justice looked confused but didn’t respond. After a moment he closed his eyes and his body relaxed. Sekhmet stayed where she was and waited. Anders opened his eyes and sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I lost control. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright.” She kissed Anders’ cheek.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes and she could see he was afraid. “It’s not. I need to be more careful.”

She cupped his face in her hands, from soothing one man, right onto soothing another. Living with two men in one body was exhausting sometimes. “I don’t think it’s something we have to worry about again.”

Anders was quiet for a few moments. “He seems more relaxed, his thoughts are gentler, not so insistent. What exactly happened?”

She shrugged, “We just understand each other better now, is all.” She wondered if Justice would disappear again for months as he had the last time.

Anders shook his head, “There was nothing from him, and then he was suddenly pushing forward so insistent, his mind was like a nest of buzzing hornets. I don’t even know why…why he would come out like that. ”

“He was curious. Maybe it had something to do with you making such a big deal out of it. Maybe he wanted to understand what the big deal was.” Sometimes she wondered if Justice was naturally a curious creature of if he’d picked that up from Anders’ constantly curious mind. 

“So, it’s my fault then? Maybe you should have listened to me.” Her beloved was pouting like a spoiled child.

She smiled and kissed his cheek, “Maybe, but haven’t you given up on me behaving myself?”

He grudgingly smiled, “I thought I had.” Slowly, the smile melted. “I still don’t understand why he would suddenly come through now?”

She smirked at him trying to lighten his mood a little, “Well, I do have a pretty gifted mouth if I do say so myself.” In the back of her mind that word echoed again, mocking her. Hundreds…

Anders chuckled; “You’ll get no argument from me. But maybe we shouldn’t,” he gestured vaguely.

Sekhmet shook her head. “Oh no, you promised I could have anything I wanted tonight.” And she wasn’t about to let that word defeat her, wouldn’t let it ruin this now.

Tension coiled around Anders so thick she could almost swear she could see it as he asked anxiously, “What if he tries to come through again?”

Sekhmet had climbed off of Anders and was pushing him back so he was lying down. “He won’t, trust me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Sekhmet shook her head, “Anders, my love, shut up.”

He chuckled a little nervously but relaxed marginally, shifting the pillows behind him so he could watch her. She leaned down over him and kept her eyes locked with his. Responsive creature he was, he started getting hard again before her tongue even touched him. She chased that ugly word away, pushing it out of her mind again.

********

He purred in pleasure as the tip of her tongue glided over his soft skin and swirled around the head. She sucked just the head into her mouth and teased it, dipping her tongue into the slit, wiggling against the v shaped indent underneath the head. Her mouth was doing such wicked things to him he was fully erect in no time. 

He couldn’t stop a loud groan when she shifted and slid her lips down him and he felt himself slide, almost effortlessly into her throat. Anders found himself struggling against his own thoughts. What she was doing felt so good he never wanted her to stop, but he couldn’t help but wonder where she had learned how to take a man into her throat like that.

Anders felt an ugly spike of jealousy course through him. Something he was getting all too accustomed to when it came to Sekhmet. As much as he liked to think of himself as an enlightened man, the idea of another man with Sekhmet drove him mad.

Sekhmet must have seen a change in his expression because she started to pull away from him. Anders twined his fingers back into her hair and pushed her back down gently. She took the hint and slid back down, engulfing him fully again. He’d lost this battle; he might as well enjoy it. 

Anders’ mind focused on one word as he moved his hips slowly, sliding in and out of her throat with each stroke. _“Mine.”_ It was nearly barbaric in his single mindedness. Regardless of the past, she was his and his alone now. Another man would never touch her, never. _“Mine.”_

Sekhmet hummed against him and Anders felt a flush of heat at the feeling. “Again.” He begged, no longer caring about that small voice in the back of his head telling him a lady didn’t suck cock. Sekhmet certainly did and she was good at it. 

She flattened out her tongue and pushed down so he was completely inside of her mouth and in her throat. Anders closed his eyes tightly and struggled not to jerk his hips upwards when she swallowed, massaging him with her throat. She didn’t stop or come up for air.

She just kept swallowing until he let out a strangled cry and came down her throat. She began pushing against his stomach. And as Anders came back to his senses he realized that he had tightened his grip on her hair and she couldn’t move.

He let go of her quickly, “Sorry.”

She sat up, wiping her lips on the back of her arm and took a few deep breaths before grinning at him. Anders just shook his head, a small smile on his lips. She was amazing. 

Sekhmet stretched out next to him on her side and wrapped an arm around his waist, a soft almost blissful smile on her lips. “I love you.”

Anders chuckled, swiping half heartedly at the smudged paint on her lips. “I think I love you a lot more right now.” He skimmed a hand down over her hip pulling her close to him; wrapping his hand under one of her legs he draped it over his hip. 

He tugged her closer and pushed himself against her until their bodies were molded tightly together. Finally, content with touching as much of her as he possible could, or almost as much as he possibly could, he pulled her gently into a kiss. She resisted for a moment, turning her head away when he leaned to taste her lips. 

Ah, his lioness was still so sweet and naïve in so many ways. It amused and aroused him that she would seek to protect him at such a time. Unable to control the purring rumble in his chest when he spoke, he whispered in her ear, “Let me taste myself on your tongue.”

Sekhmet shuddered against him, her eyes momentarily widening in surprise before she let him pull her into a kiss. She opened her lips under his gently probing tongue and Anders purred again when his tongue caressed hers lightly. The hairs on the back of his neck and down his arms stood up as the raging summer storm that was so purely her mingled with the slight salty tang he had left behind. To him there was nothing sexier than those telltale signs of having spilled himself inside of her, having claimed her in those small ways.

Sekhmet was his; mind, soul and body, as he was hers. As he withdrew and nuzzled her neck he pushed away those earlier thoughts of jealousy. Whoever she had been with, whomever she had shared herself with before, now she was his, totally and completely. He’d told himself the same before, but everyday it was truer than the day before. He was sharing her life in unexpected ways, everyday. Even now he could feel her heart racing, could feel that…something was wrong.

********

“Sekhmet?”

She didn’t like the concern in his voice. And times like now she wished he’d never learned how to share his magic with her, to touch her with it. Oh, they both knew his magic was doing something to them, but they never spoke of it, not really.

“Not now, please. I’m tired. Let’s take a nap before dinner?” She hoped her voice didn’t betray her. She’d finally tasted Anders, had finally broken down that barrier, but it had been a hollow victory. All she could think of now were Justice’s words. _“Hundreds he didn’t love.”_ Silently, she waited to see if he would argue.

Several long beats of silence passed between them before Anders kissed the top of her head and murmured, “Alright, my love, if you wish.”

At least Anders never felt the need to push her. She might not be able to lie to him about how she felt, but he rarely pushed her for the why of anything. Maybe, he was afraid of the answer.

And wasn’t this one a doozey? How was she going to explain it to him? She didn’t want to seem like she was judging him based on his past.

Next to Anders she was a blushing virgin. No wonder the man worked so hard to keep his desires reined in. There was no way, absolutely no way; she would ever be able to satisfy him, not really.

She closed her eyes as tears started to form. Sooner or later she would lose him because she could never be enough. Her throat constricted, dear gods, what would she do without him?

She huddled down, head bent against Anders’ chest so he couldn’t see the silent tears running down her cheeks. Even so, he tightened his arms around her, holding her closer. Maybe she could delay things a bit, make him stay with her a bit longer. 

Finding a way to get him to let go, to get him to take her the way she knew he wanted too. She could show him that even though she was small he didn’t need to treat her like she was fragile. And…she stifled a shudder…she could make up with Isabela, somehow, and invite her to share their bed. 

Isabela was pretty enough, and had already expressed an interest in Anders. As far as Anders, he’d remarked on several occasions on what a striking woman Isabela was. Andraste’s ass, even thinking about it hurt. 

She wanted…no, she needed to make Anders happy, no matter what. The Blooming Rose was always an option; it might even be easier than inviting Isabela to their bed. After all, Anders might want to be with a man.

She would find a way to stay with him, to make him happy. And if that meant she had to share his body, she would find a way to be alright with that, as long as she never had to share the rest of him. When that dreadful word echoed through her head again she fought the urge to cover her ears. 

It was too late to unhear it now.

All she could do now was curl up close to him and hope she could find a way to make him stay with her. Forcing herself to relax, to enjoy him holding her she whispered, “I love you.” 

Anders sighed, sounding content and happy as he squeezed her in a hug, “I love you, too.”

If only that was enough…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click here to return to DA](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/art/My-Lioness-Claimed-438019748)


	62. Save The Witch, Burn the Witch-Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait, illness has slowed my progress considerably. Thank you for your patience.

Anders stirred slowly and glanced around as he sat up. Heavily, he sighed, the trees formed a beautiful arch over the long sun dappled path, but the light was wrong. He was in the Fade. Standing, he dusted himself off and began to try to figure out what he was doing there and more importantly how he had gotten there.

“Uncle.”

Anders froze, icy water seemed to replace the blood in his veins and his spine felt like an icicle. Slowly, he turned to the sound of a voice he shouldn’t recognize but did. “Trelain.”

The golden elf in front of him looked nothing like Alistair and Sareyna’s child, but Anders refused to call him Urthemiel. His golden hair floated in a nimbus around him as he walked, almost glided, closer to Anders. 

He gave a short nod to acknowledge Anders. “If you prefer.” It was polite, solicitous even.

Anders snorted, “I would prefer not to be here at all.”

Trelain bowed his head a little, “I apologize, Uncle. But I seek your assistance.”

Anders shook his head with a small laugh, “And what help does a god need from me?” Maybe he shouldn’t be so cold. Trelain had done nothing to him, well other than drag him into the Fade apparently.

Trelain turned away and walked a few steps before turning back to Anders. “I found her.” His deceptively youthful brow was furrowed deeply as he spoke.

Anders’ heart hammered in his chest; it felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. “W…what?”

“I found her. But,” he shook his head, hair twisting oddly in long, blond, floating curls, “she does not know me. Her mind, it has started unraveling after so long lost in the Fade. His eyes were intense, almost glowing as he looked at Anders. “It is difficult for her to separate reality from dreams. I need you to help me bring her back.”

“No, it’s pointless, her body…it’s been too long Trelain.” Anders was surprised by the heavy mix of emotions flowing through him, elation that they had finally found her, pain that they could not save her even so, anger at himself for leaving her and letting the suspension spell lapse.

The elf smiled and Anders was amused to see that the not-quite-boy’s smile looked like Alistair’s. Anders chuckled, “Seeping through is it?”

Trelain gave a small nod, “I am becoming accustomed to my Shemlen body slowly. It seems that I have Alistair’s smile. Many people seem to find his smile reassuring so I suppose I have started to use it to my advantage. But there are more important things to discuss than my physical characteristics. The spell you wove before you left, the suspension spell is still in place.”

Anders scowled, “That’s impossible. Did they find another mage to help her?”

With a tilt of his head and a raised brow he gave Anders an appraising look. “I am sure you already know why the spell has held for so long.”

Anders chewed his bottom lip for a moment. Oh, he knew alright, although he could scarcely believe it even so. “Pounce.” And even just the sound of his cat’s name on his lips wrought waves of pain and regret. He missed Pounce, missed him more than was likely healthy but he didn’t care. He loved that damned inexplicable cat.

Trelain nodded, “Your friend has not left Morrigan’s side since you left him at Eveleen’s.”

Even the mention of that day hurt. Being parted from Ser Pounce-A-Lot had been the start of the end of Ferelden and the Wardens for Anders. Perhaps, he _had_ become overly attached to the cat. But, he wasn’t just a cat, not really. Sareyna had understood that. 

And Pounce hadn’t been a weakness. He gave Anders strength when Anders thought he had none left. Pounce had been an incredible gift. Even now, Anders was disgusted with himself that he hadn’t retrieved his cat before leaving Ferelden. That was, of course, when he wasn’t cursing himself for letting that bitch make him get rid of Pounce in the first place.

But, getting Pounce would have alerted the Wardens that he was alive. And after what happened in that field he was sure the Templars would be on high alert, just in case he had survived. Even so, he missed Pounce terribly, even as he knew Eveleen would take good care of the cat.

Anders suddenly realized his mind felt unusually quiet. Justice would have never let his mind wander for so long over such maudlin things, especially over events he couldn’t change. “Where is Justice, I can’t feel him? He’s usually in control in the Fade; did you do something to him?”

Anders was incredibly anxious, not just that Justice was quiet, but that it had taken him so long to notice the spirit’s seeming absence. Was it just the shock of seeing Trelain that had skewed his perception so spectacularly, or was there something more going on, dulling his senses?

“No, Justice is not comfortable in my presence, it is for the best. It is you I need.” Trelain’s voice was soothing and calming which Anders was sure was the point.

Anders didn’t like it, wasn’t even sure getting Morrigan out of the Fade was a good idea. What if freeing her somehow alerted Flemeth? If she knew that Anders was the one to help Morrigan would the old witch take an interest in Anders’ life again, in Sekhmet’s? 

A refusal on the tip of his tongue it was Alistair’s face he saw, his half brother’s voice he heard in his mind. _“She’s our sister.”_

Anders’ head drooped and his eyes closed. _Family._ He’d wanted it so badly, had cherished it in his own way at the Keep. But, family had its disadvantages too. Even after what Morrigan had done he would help her and face the consequences as they came. Regardless of what happened to him he would find a way to keep Sekhmet safe from the mad witch.

He opened his eyes, “I need another mage to watch over me while I am in here if I am going to be in the Fade for any period of time.” Anders sighed, he didn’t want to do this, but Morrigan was family. Sareyna, Alistair, Sekhmet, all of them had taught him that you do whatever you can for your family. And maybe this was a way to redeem himself for so spectacularly failing poor, sweet Bethany.

Trelain gave a nod, “The sooner the better. I will be waiting when you return to sleep.”

Anders awoke in his bed next to Sekhmet, slipping from the Fade to sleep and then a gentle awakening. His incredible wife was still asleep and night still hung heavy outside the window, not the slightest hint of dawn on the skyline. He hesitated for only a moment before placing a hand on Sekhmet’s shoulder and shaking her a little. “Love, I need your help.”

Sekhmet jerked upright in a split second, crouching on the bed, a dagger clutched in her hand and Anders wasn’t even sure where it had come from. Her eyes sharply focused as she scanned the room quickly before looking to him. “What do you need?”

Anders closed his eyes briefly, why hadn’t he told her more about his life before? It seemed a huge job to try to explain it all now. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, “My sister is lost in the Fade, and I think she’s been found. I need to help her get free, but I need help.”

Sekhmet climbed out of the bed and tugged on the trousers she had been wearing the night before, “We’ll go get Merrill, now. You need her to help right?”

Anders shook his head in amazement. The woman hadn’t even known he had a sister until five seconds ago and she was all ready to run across the city to get help to save this unknown woman. Anders slipped out of the bed and grabbed Sekhmet, kissing her fiercely, “I love you.” Maker’s breath how had he ever managed to get so damned lucky?

She smiled, “Family is family. Now let’s get dressed and get going. We should be able to get to Merrill’s around daybreak. Do you want to come back here for whatever you need to do, or do it at Merrill’s?”

He tugged a tunic on, “I’d rather do it here.”

Sekhmet nodded as she started pulling on her boots, “Do you have to set stuff up, would it be faster if I went to get Merrill by myself?”

Anders was torn, there was a little bit of preparation, but he didn’t want Sekhmet wandering the city alone, especially, while it was still dark out.

She chuckled, “I know that look, I can take care of myself, you know that.”

Anders sighed, “I know, doesn’t mean I like it.”

She kissed him on the cheek, “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

With that she left the room and he heard her bounding down the stairs. She gave a low short whistle and there was a quiet bark in response from Tyr. That made Anders feel a little better at least. He wasn’t going to make himself crazy over it; Sekhmet did dangerous things almost everyday and on most days barely got a scratch.

He went downstairs and retrieved a broom, bringing it back to the bedroom and quickly sweeping around and as far as he could reach under the bed. Lord and Lady had wandered in behind him and they sat, oddly still, near the door and watched him curiously. He was glad they were behaving themselves, but the sight of them just made the ache for Pounce more pronounced. Pounce would have been keeping pace with him, not in the way, just at his side.

With a soft, regretful sigh he pulled a small chest from under the bed and opened it up. After sifting through it for a few minutes he took out a few enchanted candles and placed them in a circle around the bed. He used salt between the candles to finish forming the circle, cringing as he did so. 

Salt wasn’t exactly cheap, but he wanted to make sure that relying on Merrill was an absolute last resort. She was a blood mage and as such he would never trust her completely. Hopefully, Justice occupying his body would be enough to discourage any spirits from becoming interested in his comatose body, but you could never be too sure. 

He headed back down to the kitchens and got a pitcher of water as well as a small platter with breads, cheeses and meats. Taking his time, he slowly sliced each; the act of cutting methodically soothed him. He needed to be calm when he returned to the Fade. Morrigan’s life might depend on it. He covered the platter and brought it upstairs along with the pitcher setting them on Sekhmet’s writing desk.

With nothing else to really do Anders sat in the chair at Sekhmet’s desk and tried to figure out what kind of shape Morrigan might be in. She was a strong woman, and a resourceful mage, but she had been lost in the Fade for years. He couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Would she even still be human? Would she want to go back to her body?

A sudden thought struck Anders, would she be safe if she came back? She was technically a Warden, but she was still an apostate and a maleficar. Anders shuddered at the word. He had never really liked blood magic because of the danger he knew it put mages in and how it was looked upon by the Chantry. There was no reason to give them more excuses to suspect mages as being evil. 

While he was in the Wardens it had bothered him that Morrigan was a blood mage, but he had never really worried about her becoming possessed by a demon. Morrigan was far from being naïve or weak, not like Merrill. She had always used either her own blood or Darkspawn blood for her spells. 

She had been so careful. But in the end all her strength and her careful usage of blood magic over the years hadn’t mattered. When her own life was truly in danger she had nearly killed her lover in an attempt to save herself. 

It had taken Nathaniel a long time to heal physically from that, and Anders wasn’t sure if there was anyway to heal mentally from such a betrayal. They had all learned the hard way. There was no such thing as a harmless blood mage.

And, even if she somehow managed to be safe from the Templars there was another to worry about, wasn’t there? The one he hadn’t let himself think about until today for fear of ruining his relationship with Sekhmet. Morrigan’s mother was still out there, somewhere.

Would she go after Morrigan again? 

The last time Anders had seen Flemeth she’d seemed focused on him and Sekhmet. But, didn’t he know better than most that Flemeth played a long game? She hadn’t managed to get her hands on Trelain, so what was to say she wouldn’t go after Morrigan again?

Although, if she’d wanted Morrigan’s body it might have been easier over the years while it was an empty vessel, wouldn’t it? And Flemeth didn’t seem to need a body anymore. No matter what she said, Anders always thought she seemed more interested in Trelain’s power than anything else.

Was that the game then? Had Trelain not simply stumbled across Morrigan? Had he possibly been led there by Flemeth? Would Trelain fall for such a deception? Or maybe Trelain had thought himself smart enough, wise enough, to outfox Flemeth.

Or, she could be looking for Anders. She’d been awfully interested in him once hadn’t she? And he’d only grown stronger since then. He held out his hand and let a little lightning spark and dance between his fingertips. His encounter with Flemeth at the Keep had pushed him; he worked constantly to learn new spells, to strengthen the ones he already knew. 

Even improving himself could be a trap, couldn’t it? Increasing his potential usefulness to Flemeth, it could _all_ be a trap. It could be so many things, and thinking about it was just giving Anders a headache. He would go to Morrigan, but he would be careful, so very, very careful. 

When Sekhmet and Merrill arrived at the estate they came straight up the stairs to the room he shared with Sekhmet. Anders suddenly found himself wishing he had set this up in one of the spare bedrooms. The idea of doing a ritual in this room suddenly seemed wrong.

The salt was already poured, the circle already prepped. There was no point in tearing it down now. Lord and Lady had moved to a chair by the fire, where they watched him silently and occasionally cleaned each other. Even knowing they weren’t Pounce, were nothing like him, didn’t have an ounce of magic between them so far as he knew, he felt better having them there.

Merrill took in the circle, her eyes widening a bit. “I see.” Stepping forward she drew a pouch from her waist. She took out what looked like a tightly tied bundle of leaves. Calling a bit of magic to her fingertips she lit the leaves, letting them burn for several seconds before blowing them out. 

Slowly, she walked clockwise around his circle, waving the leaf bundle through the air in lazy swoops. It took Anders a few minutes to recognize the scent as sage. His was almost upset he hadn’t thought of it. Sage was a fairly well know protection, granted it was little use against most demons. But at this point any protection was welcome.

When she finished she stepped over to him. Anders held out his arms for her and let her waft the fragrant smoke over him. It wasn’t something he had ever done, but he’d heard of others who had used a similar practice.

She stubbed out the leaves and reached back into the pouch at her waist. Pulling out a long length of leather thong, tied at one end and with a silver emblem at the other, she held it out to him. “Please, lethallin, wear this. It might protect you.”

Anders wanted to refuse on principal. He didn’t really care for Merrill. Even though she repeatedly sought his friendship he could not bring himself to give it to her so long as she was a practicing blood mage. Thinking about Morrigan just heightened his reasons.

But, he did not think she would knowingly hurt him. Merrill was a lot of things, but vindictive definitely wasn’t one of them. The amulet, whatever it was supposed to be, was meant to protect him. He nodded and let her slip the leather over his neck. She beamed; apparently pleased he had accepted it without an argument.

He turned to Sekhmet, who was still hovering by the bedroom door, “Ready?”

She shrugged, “Why are you asking me? I’m just going to be standing here watching while you journey into the Fade.”

He walked over, getting close and lacing his fingers with hers. He lowered his voice until it was barely above a whisper. “I wish I could take you with me.” And he meant it, he always felt stronger with her at his side. 

She nodded, “Me too, I can’t protect you from here.”

He could feel her tension, a tightness across his skin. Anders kissed her fingers, “I’ll be fine.”

Her pale blue eyes looked into his, “Is that a promise?”

If only he could promise her that. She looked miserable all of a sudden, and he hated that. Softly, he kissed her forehead then let her go and stepped into the ring of salt. With a flare of magic he lit the candles one by one, magic racing in a sapphire blue wall across the salt, candle to candle until he was surrounded by the blue magic and the four burning candles before he climbed into the bed. One more quick spell and he was slipping into sleep, rushing towards the Fade.

Trelain was waiting, just as he said he would be. “We must hurry, mother will be rousing soon.”

Anders was surprised to hear Trelain call Sareyna that. “You call her mother?”

Trelain led him quickly through several Fade portals as he spoke, “What should I call her?”

“Do you consider her your mother then?” How strange it must be for ‘Reyna to have a child who was technically older and ostensibly much wiser than she was.

“She birthed the body I am in; she fed me and has raised me. Is there any reason I should not consider her my mother?”

Ander shrugged, “No, I suppose not.” But that wasn’t really what he thought.

Trelain suddenly stopped and looked at Anders for a long moment. “I am well aware of how she struggled, she still struggles. But, considering the circumstances, she does her best to be a mother to me.” He turned and pointed a bit into the distance. “Morrigan is there.”

Anders looked around and then recognized the landscape right away. It was skewed but it was definitely Vigil’s Keep. “She built the entire Keep?”

Trelain nodded. “I cannot go any closer, and Mother is getting worried. We part ways here. I will see you soon. And Uncle,” he waited for Anders to look at him before continuing. “tonight is the full moon. Bed your wife tonight and you’ll get what you want.”

Before Anders could speak Trelain was gone. Anders was left standing there slack jawed and stunned. How had Trelain known he was married? And, was he trying to tell Anders that Sekhmet would become pregnant if he bedded her tonight? How had he known they were even trying to get pregnant?

Anders shook his head; there were no answers here, only Morrigan and her Keep. Still, Anders was surprised Trelain hadn’t even stayed to see if Anders had any trouble. The boy, if you could call him that, barely knew Anders though, so perhaps it was not so strange.

He moved forward, towards the Keep, bent and twisted by the Fade, in the distance. With each step he marveled at the detail with which Morrigan had seemed to construct the thing. There was even a piece of the top of the wall missing where the ogre had thrown a chunk of earth, starting Anders and Zevran on their little Deep Roads adventure. He couldn’t help but shudder a little as he looked at it. 

As he walked up to the front gate he felt an odd breeze from the left. His body tensed and he turned to see a woman with grey colored wings land next to him. Although she didn’t feel exactly right, she didn’t seem to be much of a threat either.

“And who do we have here?” She was essentially naked save for a long open cloak and sandals. 

Anders ignored her, wanting more and more to just get Morrigan and get out of there. Hurriedly, he continued towards the gate. He needed to get in and find Morrigan as quickly as possible before he woke up. 

From what Trelain had said it was going to take Anders a while to convince her not only of who he was, but where she was and that they needed to leave. Reaching the gate he felt himself pushed back by a soft wash of magic. He furrowed his brow; he hadn’t expected to be stopped before even touching the gate.

As he tried to focus, feeling for the magic, trying to find the cause of what was preventing him from entering the Fade Keep he felt the woman he had been ignoring clutch him from behind and lick his ear. Annoyed that a spirit, or more likely a demon would trespass against him so lightly, he roughly shoved her away. She stumbled backwards a few steps, out of his line of sight. Her odd laughter made him finally acknowledge her so he turned to see where she was.

She was in the air, her feet just a foot or so off the ground. “Yum, you taste good, like spirits and corruption, power and madness, flesh and sex.” She hummed in pleasure, “So much sex, you naughty boy.” She dropped down in front of him and gripped his belt, unfastening it with deft hands.

He jerked away from her, re-buckling his belt. Damn desire demons, they were such a bloody nuisance. “If you know what I am then you should know enough to stay away from me.” 

She smiled, slow and seductive and her voice was like burgundy silk. “On the contrary, you’re the one who shouldn’t be here. Death is my domain.”

“Death? But Morrigan isn’t dead.” What was this strange creature…demon, talking about?

The woman smiled, “She should be, her spirit has been out of her body for far too long. Yet, it somehow lives on. And though she should have fallen prey to any number of predators here in the Fade, she is safe within those walls.”

“Predators like you?” Anders sneered.

Some of the mirth was finally wearing away, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with fire?”

“Not really a problem for me, I’m already possessed and I’m far stronger than I look.” He wasn’t about to be intimidated by some ridiculous demon.

The woman laughed again, “Oh, I know you are, but you’re not the only one who looks fairly harmless on the outside. And mortals are only good for two things.” She flew back to him, scant inches between them and deftly gripped his soft cock through his trousers. He batted her hands away again and stepped back away from her.

She just smirked, “If you’re not interested in sex that just leaves death, handsome. But what a shame, you are too delicious.”

The mad demon was worse than Flemeth all those years ago when she’d stopped time to talk with him. Anders had far more important things to do than playing with creatures of the Fade. He turned away from her, looking again for the invisible force that had repelled him from the Keep gate. “I don’t have time for this, get lost.”

“Don’t snap at me little boy.” The Fade seemed to shake with the strength of her voice. She dropped to the ground, making it tremble slightly and stalked towards him. With incredible strength she gripped his shoulder pushing with what seemed very little effort and Anders fell to his knees, completely surprised. 

“You may be strong where you are from, little mage, but here, I am a god.” Her voice had deepened and had taken on a layered quality as if many people were speaking at once, reverberating on the last word. “Come back when you’ve learned some manners.” 

She picked Anders up easily with one hand and threw him. He felt himself hurtling backwards and suddenly woke up back in the bed in the estate. Sekhmet rushed over to him, pushing through the wall of his magic like it was not even there, but careful not to disturb the salt and climbed onto the bed. 

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Anders sat up, confused by his sudden ejection from the Fade directly into wakefulness and even more confused by Sekhmet so easily passing through the barrier of his magic. He didn’t want to worry her, and didn’t want to discuss it with Merrill either who was staring after Sekhmet with wide eyes. Apparently as surprised as he was about Sekhmet running through the wall of magic. 

“Interference,” he murmured quickly and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m alright, love. I promise.” Sliding off the side of the bed he strode quickly from the room, his barrier falling as he stepped through it disrupting the circle. “I need to find some books.” That had been no ordinary demon. He’d never seen anything like her before, had never been so easily overcome, even in the Fade.

“What books?” Sekhmet followed him and was in turn followed by Merrill.

“About gods.” She’d called herself a god, which meant mortals might have called her such as well. Although, Anders had stopped believing in real gods long ago thanks to Renault and Trelain.

Merrill froze, “You met a god in the Fade?”

Anders turned around and looked at them both. Sekhmet stood there, looking curious and relieved, no doubt glad he was back where she could protect him. And poor Merrill, she looked pale and nervous. “I’m not sure what she really was; she called herself one and threw me out of the Fade as easily as if I had no magic at all.” He pushed his hand back through his hair. “I don’t even know where to start.” He headed towards the library again, trying to decide what exactly he was trying to find.

Sekhmet hurried after him. “Let us help you. What can you tell us about her?”

“She had huge feathered wings, they were a light grey. And long dark colored hair. She wore a lot of jewelry and a long cloak as well as sandals…and nothing else.” He stopped, a thought suddenly occurring to him. He had been thrown from the Fade like that before, hadn’t he? Just the once, but it wasn’t something he’d likely forget. 

Sekhmet was scowling. “You don’t remember anything else?”

Anders shook his head, “No, she wasn’t wearing anything else.” He just hoped she wasn’t who he thought she was. “She said death was her domain. Though before she said that if you had asked me I would have said she was some sort of desire demon. She licked me.”

Sekhmet unexpectedly laughed, “Licked you?”

“Don’t laugh, it was all very strange. She knew what I was right away even though Justice didn’t seem to be with me at the time.” And how had she known, was it because it was Flemeth and already knew, or had she sensed it on her own?

Sekhmet started, “What do you mean he wasn’t with you?”

“He didn’t take control like he normally does in the Fade and I didn’t feel him at all.” He saw Sekhmet blanch. He gave her a small smile, even though it pained him to do so. That she might miss Justice galled him beyond belief. But he smiled, trying to reassure her and caressed her cheek, “Don’t worry, he’s back now.” He turned and headed for the steps again, “Come on, let’s check out the library, I saw a few books on mythology there, maybe she’s in one of them.”

Sekhmet and Merrill followed dutifully after him and the three of them spent the rest of the day pouring over books trying to find anything about a winged goddess of death. They didn’t even stop to eat, having Orana bring them their meals as they continued to pour over books. Anders needed an answer, needed to know something before he went back and tried to get Morrigan again.

But, there seemed to be nothing to find. Some ridiculous concept of angels, a few Navarran goddesses, but no goddess of death with wings that he could see. The idea that she might be Flemeth in disguise just kept growing inside him. What was he going to do?

As the last light of the day trickled through the window Anders finally called it to a halt, they needed some rest. He thanked Merrill for her help as graciously as he could, even offering to walk her home. She declined and added that she would continue looking for any information before she slipped out of the estate.

Anders collapsed into bed that night mentally exhausted. The circle of salt had been left all day and Anders felt grateful for it. He would be seeking out the Fade again as soon as slumber claimed him. Perhaps it was foolish to try again on his own, but how could he not when she was so close?

He waited for sleep as patiently as he could, holding Sekhmet close to him. He listened to the sound of her breathing, knowing she was not sleeping, but the sound calmed him all the same. It was likely she would not sleep tonight.

Worry had crept over her. He’d seen the shadow of it hanging over her all evening. And, until her mind was set at ease she would watch him carefully. He kissed her forehead, suddenly feeling incredibly blessed that someone cared about him so much. 

If something were to happen to him, he would not be left to languish in the Fade for years. No, his little lioness would storm the black city itself for him, he had no doubt. His only doubt was whether he would be strong enough to do the same for her.

Maybe, if he could rescue Morrigan it would help to assuage some of the doubts he had about himself, and what he perceived as the creeping distance between himself and Sekhmet. He closed his eyes. He’d bedded her more, touched her more, but still couldn’t quite recapture that closeness he’d felt with her only a few short months ago. Every day that passed while they tried to conceive and failed the rift widened. 

She was pulling away from him, holding herself apart and he could not understand why. Each day that her womb remained empty he wanted her more, wanted to hold her tighter. But she shut down, her body reflecting her emotions, hunching her shoulders forward, head slightly bowed, folding in on herself. She was less and less his fearsome lioness, but this morning…her quick reaction to his touch when he awoke her to tell her about Morrigan had given him hope. His fierce woman was still in there, she was just hurting, the same as he.

He kissed her lips lightly, she was ill at ease and he still hoped to seduce her tonight. Perhaps Trelain was right and they would finally conceive. And then the gulf between them would disappear. 

More than just seducing her, more than filling her with his seed and hoping it would finally take, he wanted to wrap her in his magic, wanted to fill her with it. He closed his eyes as he ghosted a kiss across the sensitive skin of her neck. He wanted to feel her heart beat in time with his, wanted to feel each gasp of her breath, wanted to feel the pleasure wash over her.

He needed to feel close to her, to feel like they were part of each other.

Reaching over to the bedside table he grabbed a small flask and pressed it lightly into her hand. Tension made her entire body rigid but she dutifully opened it and swallowed the bitter liquid. A wave of anger briefly washed over her and he nearly called a halt to the whole idea, but it passed quickly.

Sometimes he thought his new ability to feel what she felt was a curse. He could know what she was feeling but not the why. Was her anger at him for wanting to try again? Or was she angry at herself for some reason?

She took a deep breath and as she slowly exhaled the anger seemed to dissipate. He dropped another kiss to her lips before gently slipping off the tunic she was wearing. Her skin shone the loveliest shade of pale blue in the moon light filtering through the window. As he untied her trousers he gently kissed her chest, right above her heart.

She lifted her hips for him as he finished undressing her before undressing himself quickly. With gentle caresses he traced lines of magic over her abdomen, making her body ready, preparing her womb the best he could. If this didn’t work tonight, he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to do it all again. 

She’d cried the last time. Curled up in the dark together she’d bowed her head so he couldn’t see, but he’d known all the same. Her pain and anger and shame had swept through her, and buffeted him with an icy blast down his spine. 

And he couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working. His body didn’t seem that damaged, his seed was mostly healthy. His beloved’s body was receptive and fertile, so why was this so difficult?

Like wood, she lay so still beneath him, her eyes watching him with a hint of sadness. Maker’s breath it would never work like this. Every time he handed her one of those flasks their passionate lovemaking turned into passionless breeding. And the bed had become a trap. He’d carved a sigil into the wood to help promote fertility, for all the good it had done. 

He’d had these crazy ideals of gently making love to her in this bed when they conceived. A perfect conception of what was sure to be a perfect child born of their so much less than perfect love. But this was all wrong, why would anyone want to have a child born of promises and perceived duty? Having a child shouldn’t be a chore you endure. It should be joyous and happy.

On a whim he scooped her up and carried her to the door. Pulling it open he raised his voice a little. “Bodahn, take Sandal and Orana you have the rest of the night off and I need the main part of the estate.”

Bodahn called back, “Yes, Master Anders, won’t be but a moment.”

“Good,” He turned and pinned Sekhmet’s back again the wall and tasted her lips again while he waited. 

She pushed gently on his chest and broke the kiss. “Anders, the bed, the sigil…”

He smiled softly, “Stop worrying so much, play with me tonight.”

He’d hoped for a smile, or that she would at least relax. Instead, she looked even more upset. “You’ve given up on me then?”

He kissed her neck, nuzzling the warm skin, “Never,” he whispered. “Bodahn?” He called over his shoulder. When there was no response he assumed it was safe and carried her down the stairs and set her on his desk.

Immediately, he became aroused, not just in response to her and her nakedness, but in response to all the fantasies he’d had over the years of having her naked on a desk. He laid her back gently, kissing her lips, her neck, her chest and her abdomen. It was good, having her here instead of chaining them both to that bed. It could be good between them even when they were trying to have a child.

Perhaps, they’d failed so far because it had become such a dreaded chore, each of them fearing they were failing the other. Each of them feeling more and more pressured to get it done, to make it happen by sheer force of will alone. Those damned flasks carried a weight far heavier than it seemed in their fragile walls.

“Anders, what are you doing?” She whispered, so softly he barely heard her.

But, he could feel her, could feel her body reacting, could feel the excitement starting to course through her. With a smirk, feeling like a huge load of weight was being leveraged off his spirit he tugged open the top drawer while tracing patterns over her shoulder with his tongue. He took out an ink well and quill and set them on top of the desk, followed by a stack of scrap parchment.

He was hard and aching already and he’d barely touched her yet. It was the idea of marking her, he was practically panting with desire the idea aroused him so much. Quickly, he scrawled the word ‘love’ on parchment, and it was a scrawl as he tried to write it backwards with only one hand. Before it could dry he pressed it to her skin, the wet ink marking her below her breast. 

She looked down and touched it briefly. “That’s not going to come off for days!”

He grinned, “I know.” And he planned to cover her, turn her into an entirely new manifesto of ink and skin, comprised solely of words of love and devotion and his name. And when he ran out of room, or maybe just patience he would make love to her without the worry of conception dangling over their heads. It would be just the two of them enjoying each other, as it was meant to be.

********

Anders was content, but not tired. They were back in bed now, relaxing after their long day and even longer evening. And the softness of the bed felt good to them both after several hours on his desk. The thought made him smile again. They had certainly been an incredible few hours.

He brushed a few strands of hair off Sekhmet’s shoulder and kissed the skin there, marked in stark black ink that read ‘cherish’ in his own hand. And he did cherish her. As his eyes roved over her skin, taking in his handiwork he was becoming aroused again. 

It had become easier and easier for him to write backwards on the parchment so that each word was closer and closer to his usual handwriting. And now she lay curled up against him, pale white skin, covered with his script, so beautiful.

He’d made love to her several times already, unable to help himself while he was decorating her, the results of which were smudged words and several indiscreet finger prints from where he touched her. Acting out this particular fantasy had been even more fun than he’d imagined. He might have to invest in some brushes so that he could work directly on her skin in the future. A shiver of pleasure ran up his spine and he wondered if she’d let him mark her more than once. 

He wanted nothing more than to bask in their shared languid contentment. But, he still had Morrigan to think about. He should have been back in the Fade trying to free her hours ago. 

Briefly, he thought about casting a sleep spell over them both. Sekhmet likely wouldn’t sleep otherwise, and if he couldn’t control himself he’d be making love to Sekhmet again instead of sleeping. If he cast a sleep spell she would know and it would just lead to an argument. So, he laid there, eyes closed, trying not to picture her pale white skin covered in black ink phrases, holding her until sleep finally came on its own long legs to bring him into the Fade.

He’d barely realized he was there when he heard Trelain’s voice. “Uncle.”

He tried not to cringe, turning to look at the boy who was not only not human, but was not a boy in the Fade. And now that he was back in the Fade he felt a flicker of anger. Had this all been some sort of trap? 

The truth was, it had been many years since he had seen his nephew. There was every possibility that this being wasn’t who he said he was. Although, the thought rang hollow, he knew it was Trelain, Urthemiel, whatever he wanted to call himself. Anders felt the truth of it when the boy called him uncle for whatever good that did.

Still, he’d sent Anders into a dangerous part of the Fade with no warning about the demon, or whatever she was, he had met there. Perhaps, that had been the point of bringing Anders in, to use as bait or a distraction for the winged woman. “Did you bring me here for her? The Keep was some sort of trap to bring me to her?”

Trelain arched a golden colored eyebrow, “I brought you here to free Morrigan. Why have you not led her from here?” His voice was calm and serene as it always was.

Anders drew himself up to his full height, standing straight, a bit of mortal posturing, but it made him feel better nonetheless. “You forgot to tell me about something, or rather someone, did you not?” 

“The spirit? Why should she be a concern?”

“Maybe because she tossed me from the Fade as if I were a rag doll.”

Trelain scowled, “I do not like the sounds of that.”

Anders snorted, “Well, I didn’t like the feel of it.”

Trelain, who so far had practically floated in the Fade suddenly seemed very grounded, and paced slowly before Anders. “I had not given her much thought. She has been there but has not spoken, nor even acknowledged me.”

“She had plenty to say to me. Right up until she tossed me out on my ass.” And he wasn’t ashamed to admit it had hurt his pride a little. Flemeth had perhaps inflated his ego a bit too much back at the Keep.

“This could be problematic.”

Anders wondered if this was what Trelain sounded like in person. The last time he’d seen the boy he rarely made a sound, let alone spoke. “Right, very insightful, thank you.”

Trelain paused and looked at him. “I am sorry. However, I know of no other way to get to Morrigan. We will have to risk approaching her again. I will go with you. I will not let her hurt you.”

Anders ran his hand back through his hair, flustered by the entire situation. “And yet, somehow, I’m not comforted.” 

“Is there something I could do to put your mind at ease, uncle?”

“You could stop calling me that.” It was hard to stomach the idea of the fully grown golden elf standing before him as Alistair and Sareyna’s child.

Trelain nodded faintly, “As you wish, may I call you Anders then?”

He gave the elf a wry smile, “Not much else to call me by, is there?” He took a deep breath, “Let’s go get this over with, shall we?” 

Glad he had awakened in the Fade in his armor he envisioned his staff, not the one he had now, but the one he was in the stages of building. Silverite and carved with glowing runes, the top of it a naked woman with the head of a lioness. His heart beat a little faster seeing it made real in the Fade. 

The image was based off Malcolm’s staff, the one he currently wielded back in the mortal realm. Still, he hadn’t been sure it would work, but it looked stunning. He tugged and twisted the bottom of it gently; slipping the hard casing down just a little to see that there was indeed a blade under it. 

Hopefully, he would have no need of it here, but it was best to know what all the tools at his disposal were before going forward. Sliding the case back into place with a faint click he strode towards the portal that he knew would lead him to what he now thought of as Morrigan’s Keep. 

Trelain fell into step beside him, “An interesting staff, unc…Anders.”

Anders nodded, his mind already running over obscure spells he hadn’t thought about in years. “A work in progress.”

“Seems an odd choice for a healer.” There was the smallest tone of something in Trelain’s voice, but Anders wasn’t sure what.

He stopped directly in front of the portal, “I haven’t been just a healer in a very long time, Trelain.” Sekhmet had been right about that, no matter how much Anders had fought it.

“I see.” Trelain’s gaze flicked to the portal then back to Anders.

“There’s no need to worry. I’m still the best damned healer in Ferelden, or Kirkwall.” He didn’t want Trelain getting cold feet about this. They were so close to getting Morrigan after all this time.

Trelain did something completely unexpected; he smirked, “Not in all of Thedas? Because, the Anders I used to know, the one with the _fascinating_ cat, he was the best in all of Thedas, the best _damned_ healer in generations.”

Anders just stood there stunned. He didn’t know what to make of Trelain’s sudden shift. Was he attempting humor? Was he possibly trying to stroke Anders’ ego to get him to help? What was he up to?

Trelain’s smirk disappeared and he sighed, “I apologize. I remember the affection between you and my father and thought it might put you at ease. I see I misjudged. Still, Anders, I do not lie. There is not another mage alive who could have saved Zevran and my mother as you did before you all went to find Renault.”

Anders winced, that was a particularly rough memory. “Morrigan helped me.”

Trelain waived his hand dismissively. “You did the difficult work; she never would have been able to do it.”

Anders scowled, “Can we just get on with this?”

Trelain gestured to the portal and Anders stepped through. Up a small incline he saw the Keep, Trelain fell into step beside him again as they headed towards the portcullis. They were still about twenty yards away when the winged woman came towards them again.

She barely glanced at Trelain but smiled delightedly when she saw Anders. He didn’t like that one bit; he most definitely did not want her smiling at him. Trelain moved and kept his body between her and Anders.

She dropped to her feet, “Good to see you again, handsome. I thought perhaps I’d been a little too rough with you last time.”

“Stay away from him.” Trelain’s voice was quiet, but tinged with the slightest bit of steel.

Finally, her gaze shifted to Trelain. “What do you want with him and the woman? What are they to you?”

“You do not want me to resort to violence.” 

The intensity of Trelain’s tone sent a shiver across Anders’ skin. And Anders was suddenly very sure _he_ did not want to see Trelain resort to violence, not at all. One foot in front of the other, he kept moving forward, less than a dozen yards now.

“Rumor is, you’re dead Forgotten One.” Her voice was almost chipper, “And as I told your young friend, death is my domain.”

“Is that so? If death is your domain, then why cling to the Fade like a specter?” Trelain’s steps were slowing.

“And where else should I be?” She stepped closer to Trelain, eyes darting around as if expecting a trap.

Trelain cocked his head as if considering her, “What do they call you?”

With a smile she stepped back, held out her arms theatrically and floated up off the ground about a foot. “I am Alpan.”

When Trelain smiled this time there was no trace of Alistair in his smile at all. It was cold, “You are a child.”

In the blink of an eye Alpan was beside Anders. Her arms darted around him, cinching hard like steel bands. “A child am I? I have your toy.” She leaned forward, her tongue tracing around the shell of Anders’ ear. “And he tastes so…what by all the gods?”

She let Anders go and stumbled back away from him wiping at her mouth, “What is??? Who??? Stay away from me.” She was backing away from Anders, fear in her eyes.

“That’s a turn around from before, what did you do?” Anders asked as Alpan continued her frenzied back pedaling.

“I did nothing.” Trelain’s eyes were narrowed as he looked Anders over. 

Alpan disappeared altogether yet Anders didn’t feel any better. “What do you mean you did nothing? Obviously it was something. The last time she licked me she practically drooled all over me.”

“And what have you done between then and now?”

Anders was about to say nothing, but that wasn’t _exactly_ true was it?


	63. Save The Witch, Burn the Witch-Part 2

Anders very deliberately turned away from Trelain. He wasn’t about to tell the elf about how he’d made love to his wife repeatedly, or how he’d touched her with his magic, inside and out. Even now the thought of it filling her as it had set his heart racing. 

He took slow breaths calming himself, what else had he done? Nothing he hadn’t done dozens of times before, plus some rather long hours scanning books for any mentions of the strange spirit. He’d spent the day cooped up with Merrill and Sekhmet, but they had both been there the first time he’d entered the Fade. Maybe it had been one of the books? He quickly cast the thought aside, he would have felt it if one of the books had been enchanted.

This just left him back where he’d started, his time with Sekhmet. Marking her, covering her with his script, had been incredible and intoxicating. Skin so pale it made the parchment look dark, and the ink, it stood out almost as if screaming out to him from her body. And when his magic touched her, enveloped them both, his heart beat in time with hers, her pleasures became his. Maker, it had been magnificent. Yet, he didn’t have the slightest idea how that could have possibly affected Alpan so he kept all of it to himself.

“Anders?”

“Let’s get Morrigan and get out of here before Alpan comes back, shall we?” Anders strode forward until he touched the barrier of energy keeping him from the portcullis. It pushed faintly against him, but he countered it this time and held his ground. “Morrigan, let me in.” There was no immediate response but Anders didn’t move. He had no doubt she could hear him. He could feel her presence, knew she was watching. 

“It might be best if you told me what it is that you did today.” Trelain was speaking quietly beside him and sounded more than a little worried. It was the most inflection Anders had heard from him since first entering the Fade.

“Dammit, Morrigan, let me in now.” Maybe yelling at her wasn’t the best idea but it was better than letting Trelain stand there and pick at him, looking for answers. 

For some reason his heart was thumping hard in his chest. He was quickly running over everything he had done while out of the Fade again, trying to find another answer for Alpan’s response. Was it really his magic? Was letting his magic seek Sekhmet out doing something to her? To him? Was it changing more than just the odd connection between them? Andraste’s ass, was he hurting her in some way?

“Who are you and what are you doing here? No one comes here, no one but that wretched spirit.” Morrigan’s voice was like whispers touching the very edges of his consciousness but it was enough to still the nagging voice of his own doubt so he could focus on the task at hand.

Anders felt relieved and a little disturbed at the same time. It was good she was still a bit coherent, but the odd quality of her voice was worrying. “It’s Anders. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”

A short silence before that whispery tone touched him again, “Anders who?”

He frowned, she sounded confused almost, but he felt sure she knew exactly who he was. “Your brother.” 

“She’s talking to you?” Trelain was watching him closely, his eyes practically scorching through Anders’ flesh his stare was so intense.

“You can’t hear her?” That was…interesting. 

Trelain shook his head. “Perhaps I should step back. She might feel more comfortable with just you.”

Another whisper, “I’m an only child.”

Anders gave a half nod to Trelain; perhaps it was better to do this alone. He wasn’t completely comfortable with the elf’s presence and Morrigan might be able to sense that. She was being hesitant enough already, but maybe that was a good sign. She’d always been a cautious woman. “No, Morrigan, you’re not, and you know it. You were raised alone, but you had three half brothers.” He thought the energy barrier was getting lighter, dissipating somewhat.

“Had?”

Anders shivered a little; the whispery feeling was becoming stronger, almost like bugs crawling now. “Yes, had. One died fighting the Darkspawn before you met him. Now there’s just Alistair and I.”

A long pause this time, had he lost her? He waited as patiently as he could manage knowing Alpan could return at any moment and that Trelain was likely still watching even though Anders could no longer see him. Lightning sparked around his fingers and he tried to shake it off, he needed to keep himself under control. He didn’t want his anxiety about the situation to spook Morrigan into barricading herself even deeper within the Keep.

“Where is Alistair then? Why didn’t he come for me?” Was that petulance in the ghost of a voice picking at the edges of his mind?

“What’s the matter, Morrigan? I’m still not good enough for you?” He was teasing, or at least trying to. He was sorely out of practice bantering with Morrigan. “We’re in the Fade, so I’m the one you’re stuck with. If we were in the physical realm I’m sure Alistair would be breaking down the gate to save you. You know how our dear brother loves a damsel in distress.” Maybe the damsel bit would raise her ire. Her sounding lost was throwing him a bit; he was used to her anger. Did she even realize they were in the Fade?

The energy barrier dissolved but the portcullis remained shut. Her whispery voice was a little stronger again. “The…elf stays out there.”

“Understood.” Anders waited but nothing happened. He sighed, trying not to be annoyed that she still apparently wasn’t satisfied. “What else do you need to open the portcullis?” 

“Show me what they did to you.” The words were hesitant, almost as if she regretted asking.

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. He closed his eyes; of course she would want to see it. Quickly loosening his leather armor he pulled it down revealing the tattoo twined about the base of his neck. As soon as the portcullis started moving upwards he let go of the leather and let it cover his neck back up.

Briskly, shaking off the agitation at having to show the accursed tattoo, he strode across the courtyard and up the steps. A flare of force magic pushed open the heavy front doors and he lit up a wisp as he crossed the threshold. Not a single spark of light came from inside, as if all the lamps had been doused and all the windows bricked up. Even the wisp seemed to struggle to light his way, like the Keep was trying desperately to swallow the light. He listened for a moment and was rewarded with quiet footsteps off in the direction of the refectory.

By the pale blue illumination of his wisp he found Morrigan, stalking slowly around the perimeter of the room. She looked pale and drawn, her once vibrant yellow eyes dim. Oddly, her hair and clothing were impeccable. Her tattoos stood out starkly on her face and the deep purple of exhaustion ringed both eyes. She definitely looked worse for wear, but not as bad as it could have been.

“Stop gawking, Anders.” But she’d remembered her sharp tongue and he was glad for it.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wondering briefly what her body in the mortal realm would look like at this point. “Are you ready to leave here?”

She started, surprised by his apology. Yes, he supposed she would be surprised; he’d never been much for apologies while at the Keep. He kept silent, how would he explain how much had changed since she’d last laid eyes upon him?

She paused, her tongue darting out to run over her lips quickly, “I have some questions first. Do not lie to me.”

“Are you sure you want to ask them? I’m not sure I have any answers you want to hear.” He wasn’t even sure he could answer her questions it’d been years since he’d been in Ferelden, let alone Amaranthine.

She bowed her head, “I need to know.”

He sighed, “I will do my best to answer then.”

“How long has it been?” She was leaning against the wall, not looking at him but at the air in front of her.

“Right to the tough questions, then?” He had hoped to put that question off for a little while at least.

She nodded and crossed to him, her hand reaching up slowly to stroke his cheek. It brought up memories ancient and painful. She’d been gentle like this with him once before. “Your face…this tattoo,” her fingers traced the tattoo down the side of his face, and she inhaled sharply as if the contact pained her, “the scar, neither are new.” She dropped her hand but didn’t move away, her yellow eyes searching his face. “I’m no fragile creature, Anders.” He hesitated and her voice turned sharp. “How long have I been here?”

He wasn’t exactly sure how true those words were anymore, but he knew she wouldn’t want to be coddled. He nodded in acquiescence. “Alright, about six years.”

“Six?” She stepped back, eyes wide and slid down the wall to sit heavily on the floor looking up to him. “Six years, how is that possible?”

Anders shook his head, “Let’s not worry about that. First, let’s get you out of here.”

A spark of hope lit in her eyes, “If you’re here now, does that mean Flemeth is dead? Is that what took so long?”

He just couldn’t tell her anything she wanted to hear, could he? “No, Flemeth still lives.”

“So, Flemeth still lives but I’ve been stuck in the Fade for six years?” Suddenly, she stood up, angry “What on Thedas are you doing here now then?”

Anders sighed tiredly; he couldn’t let her rile him up. She was upset and had every right to be, and if they fought he’d never get her to come with him. “We couldn’t find you. When Flemeth tossed you in the Fade she hid you well. We’ve just found you, so we came to get you.”

Confusion lit across her features briefly. It was so strange to see all her emotions play out across her face. Morrigan had always hid her emotions so well. Although, he supposed after six years alone anyone would lose practice. “We?” she asked softly.

He nodded, “Believe it or not, that elf is what Trelain looks like in the Fade.” At some point he was going to have to tell her that when she woke up nothing would be as it was. That she wasn’t in the Keep but in Amaranthine. He’d have to tell her that while he was here in the Fade he wouldn’t be there when she finally woke up.

She seemed to relax a bit, “Urthemiel? That explains why he feels so different from anything else in the Fade. I wasn’t sure what he was, and I figured it was better to be safe.”

“Now that we’re all reacquainted I think it’s time to go.” He held out his hand, needing to get out of the oppressive darkness, the closed in walls of this Fade version of the Keep. It reminded him too much of the Deep Roads. “We need to get you out of the Fade before morning.”

Morrigan looked away, “Not yet, there’s one more thing I need to know.”

He took a slow deep breath, being patient with her didn’t come naturally to him. “Fine, just be quick about it.”

“Nathaniel…I need to know…” She sounded nothing like the Witch of the Wilds Anders had known. This woman was so lost sounding, like a scared little girl.

Anders cut her off, unable to bear hearing her voice like that. “He lived, barely. It would probably be in everyone’s best interest if you did your best to steer clear of him.”

She nodded, “I’m just grateful that he lives.” She held out her hand and he took it. Her whole body shuddered at the contact. Six years without human interaction, without any sort of a connection. 

The poor woman, he’d longed to be touched so much for the short time Justice had made it impossible. He wouldn’t want to dwell on it though, Morrigan would be too embarrassed. So, he didn’t bother to acknowledge her response to his touch and quickly lead her from the darkened Keep into the sickly light of the Fade. 

Anders was relieved to be out of the dark confines Morrigan had taken refuge in for so long. Outside the portcullis he released her hand and paused to look at her. The ghastly light did her no favors. She was a shadow of the woman he remembered, as if all her vibrance had been stripped from her.

And maybe he was a bastard, but he had to know. “Was it worth it, Morri? I mean, you nearly killed yourself and him and spent six years trapped in the Fade. You look like a faded and cracked painting.”

She walked a few steps away from him looking around the Fade as if seeing it for the first time before answering, “Don’t you dare judge me, Anders.” Acid dripped from her words, she looked back at him, a small spark of defiance in her eyes as she smirked, “I can taste your secret from here.”

Secret, oh yes he had many of those. But only one he was sure she could have figured out for herself. “Yes, I’m possessed. And yet I still managed to steer clear of blood magic.”

Morrigan moved forward, eyes suddenly bright and piercing, reminiscent of the witch she had been. “But you’ve gotten a taste for death… for murder. Is that any better?” She stalked forward, a smile curling her lips, her hands reaching out to touch him, as if she still wasn’t sure he was real, they skated over the leather encasing his arms. 

She looked to her hands watching herself touching him, before she gripped both arms and squeezed. Yes, she still doubted he was really there. Finally, she released him and looked back up, her voice much softer, and filled with what sounded very much like regret. “I was wrong about you then. They didn’t mute you.” A soft sigh, her eyes getting brighter, but that sadness in her voice was reflected in their depths. “They lit a fire inside of you. And it will consume them all.” Her yellow eyes, so dull in the Keep seemed to burn and glow now.

Anders took a step back away from her not liking the glint in her eyes.

She reached out and grabbed his collar, fingers like iron on his armor, pulling him close and looked into Anders’ eyes. She was half crazed, he could see it in her face, smell it on her breath. “Hello, Justice.” The words were a silken purr from her lips. The glint of madness seemed to gutter out. Looking satisfied, and much more like the woman…the sister he remembered, she released Anders. 

“How did…how did you know it was him?” Anders couldn’t even feel Justice, yet Morrigan had known he was there and who he was.

She shrugged, “It makes sense. All the talking you two did, and for all your faults Anders, you are not a stupid man. I couldn’t see you letting just any spirit possess you.”

“How did you know it wasn’t some demon?” The words were out of his mouth before he actually registered saying them.

He expected some snarky quip from Morrigan, but she was very serious. “Flemeth taught me very early how to feel the differences between a spirit and a demon.”

“Sounds handy.” Just another thing the Chantry hid from mages?

“Vital, but I want to talk of other things.” She looked around then turned back to Anders and moved close so she was practical whispering in his ear, “And answer me quick before Trelain comes back. What did you do today? How did you drive Alpan off? She’s been lurking here for…for as long as I can remember, nothing made her leave.”

“I don’t know, Morri.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He had no idea how what he had done could affect Alpan in any way.

She shifted to look into his eyes, “You do, I can see it, you’re hiding it. Tell me.”

He shrugged; maybe she could make some sense of it. So, he confessed, “I…made love to my wife.”

“Made…made love…you?” She started laughing. “I can believe a lot of things have changed in the last six years Anders, but not that you are married man. Or at least not a man married happily enough to _make love_ to your wife. Tell me what you did with this…woman…that’s different. What aren’t you telling me?”

Anger was blooming inside Anders. Was it really so hard to believe he’d found love? Morrigan wasn’t trying to be cruel, she just remembered him as he had been. So, he tried to stow his anger and answered her. “I…I touched her with my magic.”

She paused for a moment, eyes scanning back and forth across his face. Was she looking for some confirmation, or did she think he was lying? She inhaled deeply then her tongue darted out as if tasting the air around him. He watched her perplexed, waiting for her to speak.

Eventually, she let out a sigh then nodded, “Yes, okay.”

“That’s it, just okay?” He’d been hoping for a little something more from her, an explanation perhaps.

“Trelain’s back.” She murmured softly before turning, “So, this is my…nephew? What do you look like outside the Fade I wonder?”

Trelain didn’t respond to her pause, just waived for her and Anders to head towards the portal. “Come, let’s get through the portal quickly and Anders and I will tell you as much as we can before dawn.” 

Morrigan followed him through the portal with no questions and Anders followed after, now wishing he had more time to speak to Morrigan alone. Even though she hadn’t said anything, she seemed to know something about how him touching Sekhmet with his magic might affect him. The idea that it might affect him enough to somehow ward off Alpan was worrying.

Once through the portal Morrigan paused and looked back. “Seems almost too easy, doesn’t it?”

“After almost six years of searching? No, I think this was plenty difficult.” Anders knew what she meant though.

“’Twould have been no hardship for you to pay for my passage past that spirit, I’m sure Anders. She seemed very taken with you at first.” She was speaking to him, but was still staring back through the swirling purple of the portal. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Things are not as they were when you…left us, aunt.”

Morrigan turned at last and looked at Anders, “You’re really a married man, then?”

“I know, it must be a shock to know that there was actually a woman crazy enough to love even me.” Anders tried a smile, but wasn’t sure he quite managed it.

Morrigan snorted, a half smile touched her lips, “Someone falling in love with you isn’t a surprise, brother mine. Someone was always falling in love with you.” She stepped closer, her eyes scanning his face again, as if she was seeing him for the first time. “But, a woman special enough for you to fall in love with, that is much harder to believe.”

“Careful Morrigan, that almost sounded like you care for me.” 

She stepped back, her lip curling in exaggerated distaste, “Certainly not.”

Anders smiled for a moment, for a second it had almost felt like days back at the Keep. “I have to ask, how did you keep from going mad?”

“Who says I did? Perhaps this all my imagination and I’m just creating a new prison for myself.”

A new prison, is that how she’d seen the Keep? But she’d been the one to build it, so he had to ask. “Why build a prison at all?”

“At first building the k\Keep was just an exercise for my mind. But then I used it as a safe haven, a place to rest from the myriad predators of the Fade. And then Alpan came, and never left. She’s different, something else. I wasn’t sure what, but I knew she was dangerous. Between that and realizing I would never find my way back on my own I figured it was safer to just stay where I was.”

She looked back towards the portal again, was she expecting trouble? “As far as madness, it came and went. Delusions of rescue, of having never been exiled to the Fade at all and…” she sighed softly, a sound filled with pain and regret. She was terribly out of practice with people, talking more than he’d ever heard her and her emotions were easy to read. “Other ridiculous fantasies.”

Anders was pretty sure she meant Nathaniel. “So, how do you know this one is real?”

She canted her head a little and her shoulders tightened. “Because, out of all the hundreds of times I pictured my rescue, it was never you doing the rescuing.” She shrugged, “Seeing you standing outside the gate before, it was like a bucket of cold water dumped over me. I’d been in a fog for who knows how long, but seeing you, even so briefly before Alpan tossed you out, woke me up. I spent…hours I think, afterwards trying to piece together what I’d seen, trying to remember myself before you came back. I didn’t want you to see me like that if you came back.”

“You doubted I would return?” He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted, or maybe hurt that she thought not only that he wouldn’t come rescue her, but that one failed attempt would be enough for him to abandon her completely.

“We were never close, Anders. We barely tolerated each other.” Why was she still watching that portal?

“Anders searched for you tirelessly after you’d been torn from your body, even after others told him you were surely dead.” Anders was surprised to hear Trelain speak up on his behalf.

She looked over her shoulder at Anders, “Really? And was that because you actually wanted to find me, or because you wanted to play hero?”

“Neither, I did it because you’re family.” The response was automatic, out of his mouth before he could catch himself.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, “Sareyna has filled your head with nonsense.”

“Maybe she did.”

“Did?” Apparently, whatever she had gone through Morrigan was still quick witted. She turned to look at him more fully, “She’s not…”

“Maker, no.” Anders was aghast at the very idea.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then why did you say did?”

Anders took a deep breath, “Morrigan, there are things you need to know.”

“Apparently there is, but I’ve been in the Fade for nearly six years. Do you think we could discuss it when I’m back in my body?” She shifted from foot to foot. 

“Yeah, about that, I’m not actually with your body.” He watched her for a response.

All she did was nod faintly as if she had expected that. “Do I even still have a body?”

“Yes, I’m just not with it.” He tried to reassure her.

She looked back towards the portal, “Then the others can tell me, I grow sick of the Fade.”

Anders could almost feel the agitation rolling off Morrigan now. “Well, they’re not exactly with you either.”

Her head snapped back around to look at him. “So, I’m not with the Wardens anymore?”

“None of us are.”

She scowled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He struggled to give her just the facts, not to let her know how much the whole thing had broken his heart. “Sareyna, Alistair and Zevran left the wardens to protect Trelain. And I left not long after.”

“Because of Justice?”

He nodded; it was the simplest way to explain it. “Uh, yes.”

“So, you left me with the Wardens?”

Anders shook his head, “No, you’re in Amaranthine with Eveleen.”

Trelain finally piped in, “Actually, she’s not. Zevran told Grandfather to have her and Pounce moved.”

“Oh, so…where is she?” The mention of Zevran had thrown him, as did idea that he no longer knew where Pounce was or if he was being taken care of.

Trelain clearly didn’t notice Anders’ concern and answered briefly. “In the   
palace.”

Morrigan was suddenly very animated, rounding on Trelain, her eyes bright and nearly glowing again and fierce glower distorted her features. Hints of the smell of moss touched the air and Anders knew she was gathering her magic, whether on purpose or in her ire he wasn’t sure. “My body is in the damned palace? You do know that I’m a Maleficar, right?”

“Well, technically, you’re still a Warden so that doesn’t matter.” Trelain responded calmly, not concerned by Morrigan’s display.

“What you’re telling me is that when I wake up I’m going to be alone in the palace with Maric?” She sat heavily on the ground, her magic dissipating as quickly as it had gathered. “Might be safer to just stay here.”

Anders couldn’t take seeing her act so weak, so defeated. Where the Void was the woman he had known? “Stop that, you can leave the palace, it’s not like he’s going to keep you prisoner.”

She was practically pouting. “How do you know?”

Anders answered as evenly as he could manage. “Maric may have been an absent father, but he wouldn’t do that.”

“Became bosom buddies since I was tossed in the Fade have you?”

“Not exactly…” He stopped; coddling her obviously wasn’t the way to handle this. “Get up and stop acting like a damn child, Morrigan. Get a hold of yourself.” He shook his head and turned away acting disgusted. “If you’re going to be this weak willed, give up this damn easily then clearly Flemeth won her fight a long time ago. You’re being pathetic.”

Morrigan jumped to her feet, her magic curling off her in strange tendrils, her eyes glared daggers at him. And then she stopped and smiled a little. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Good, I was starting to worry you had lost what little sense you had.” He snarked.

“Nevermind, Anders, you’re right. He wouldn’t hold me against my will.” Her smiled slowly faded, and she sighed, “But, is there really any point in me returning really? You’ve all moved on with your lives and you already told me to steer clear of Nathaniel.”

“Flemeth is still out there, and she’s plotting something. Something big.” The shadow of Flemeth hanging over her had driven Morrigan to do incredible things once. Could the threat of her give Morrigan renewed purpose? 

“What am I supposed to do? The last time things didn’t exactly turn out well for me.” She wasn’t sulking exactly; she just genuinely didn’t seem to know where to start.

Anders remembered what Sareyna had told him about not being able to reach Morrigan, about how even slapping her hadn’t pulled her from the depths of whatever spell she’d been spinning nearly killing both herself and Nathaniel in the process. “What about the spell you were doing before she tossed you into the Fade, what was it, what were you doing that got her attention?” 

She was quiet for long moments, “I don’t really remember.”

“Maybe you will once you return to your body.” Maybe being grounded in the mortal realm would help her mind make connections that seemed inconsequential in the shifting patterns of the Fade.

She stood up a little straighter and shook her head, looking more awake and more focused. “It doesn’t matter. I’m more than a little sick of the Fade and I’m ready to go.”

There was so much more he should tell her before she left. “There are other things we should tell you.”

She shook her head, she was done with the Fade and who could blame her? “I’ll figure it out, Anders. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Fine, just one more thing.” He waited until she turned and looked at him, “People think I’m dead, and I need it to stay that way, Morrigan. So, no telling anyone it was me that found you.”

She looked at him curiously but didn’t ask any questions. “Understood, now someone help me get back into my damn body, please.”

A silver cord appeared in Trelain’s hand as if he’d been holding it the entire time. “This leads back to your body. Follow it as you would any other time. And be patient with your body. It’s been in stasis and empty for a very long time. Anders and I will watch to make sure you make it back.”

She unexpectedly hugged Anders tight. “Thank you for coming for me.” When she released him she touched his cheek again. “Maybe I’ll come find you.”

With that she took the cord and disappeared. Anders just stared at the spot where she had stood for a long minute. Still shocked at the hug and worrying how she would handle her reintroduction into the mortal realm. And how exactly would the Palace react to her.

When Trelain remained quiet Anders turned to him, “She made it safely?”

“I didn’t detect any problems.” Trelain said it matter of factly, as he said most things.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” He had the sudden nagging feeling her should have done more, said more, something to help her better prepare.

“Mother would often tell me she knew Morrigan was alive, because Morrigan is a survivor and could survive on her will alone.” There was a flicker of emotion behind the statement but Anders wasn’t sure what it was.

“Six years in the Fade, I think survivor is an understatement. And, how did you get her back to her body?” Anders knew of no way to repair a broken mind body connection. Yes, Trelain was something…more but still, how had he been able to rebuild the connection.

Trelain smiled a little, and this time it looked genuine, though what would Anders know? “It was not some great magic if that is what you’re thinking. When we were at the Keep I gathered the cord and tied it to my own. And I carried the connection with me. It wants to reconnect, so she just had to touch it. Simple.”

Anders snorted, “Nothing simple about it. You’re the only one who could have returned her then?”

Trelain nodded.

“Okay, enough of this circus and enough of being in the Fade. I’m ready to leave and you should probably do the same.”

“About Alpan...” Trelain started.

Anders scowled; he most certainly didn’t want to discuss that. “Another time, Trelain, I’m not fond of the Fade either.”

Trelain bowed his head slightly, “As you wish, unc…Anders.” 

Anders slid out of the Fade effortlessly, but instead of stopping in sleep he immediately woke up. It was only a moment before he realized why. Sekhmet was no longer lying down with him, wrapped in his embrace. 

Instead, she was seated next to him on the bed holding his hand, nearly crushing his fingers. “Good, you’re back.”

Anders sat up; Sekhmet was obviously worried about something. “Is everything alright?”

“I was about to ask you that.” She released her tight grip on her hand.

“Why?”

“You went back without anyone here that could help you if you needed it, didn’t you?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “You were fine and then you started glowing, a bright flash that nearly blinded me at first, and then a steady glow for almost a minute. It stopped, but you didn’t wake up.” 

She climbed out of bed and stood up. “I wasn’t sure what was going on. I didn’t know if I would make it worse by waking you up or not.” She shook her head, “I felt completely useless sitting here, waiting to see what would happen. Why would you do that? Why couldn’t you wait until we knew more, until Merrill was here to help?”

Anders climbed out of the bed quickly and took her into his arms, “Sorry, love.”

“No,” she pulled away, “Sorry doesn’t cut it. I know she’s your sister, but that was just reckless, stupid.”

He pulled her back, “Everything is fine, she’s fine and out of the Fade finally, I’m fine and back here where I belong.”

She crossed her arms between them, refusing to hold him or to let him pull her closer. “I was worried, what if you ended up trapped too?”

A boulder took up residence in Anders’ gut. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, pressing a soft kiss to Sekhmet’s forehead. And if he’d been trapped, Sekhmet would have been all alone again. A thought he’d never even taken into consideration. But, the only thing that would have made her react in such a way.

“I’m sorry, love, I really am. You’re right.” He tugged her arms loose and entwined his fingers with hers. “Never again, you have my word.”

She leaned against him; her breath hitched once and then smoothed out. They stayed like that, her leaning against him, holding hands for long minutes. She was listening to his heart, calming herself. It seemed almost cruel to him that listening to his heart always seemed to calm her, especially when he was usually the one who upset her in the first place.

Eventually, she pulled back and looked up at him. “Tell me what happened?”

Anders really didn’t want to talk about it. “Tomorrow, right now I’m tired, and my arms miss you.”

She giggled, “We’re still touching.”

“Mmmhmm, but not enough.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed snuggling against her. He stroked her hair and held her tight. They stayed like that for the rest of the night, cuddling, basking in each other, and silent. Neither of them slept.

When day break came through the window she slowly disentangled herself and slipped from the bed. He watched her, eyes greedily taking her in. She stood naked in front of the looking glass turning this way and that slowly, her eyes intense as she took in what he had done to her. Her fingers traced softly over his name where his had written it the largest, on her lower abdomen, right above her pubic mound.

Desire caught fire within him again. He stayed where he was, silent and watching. He had a feeling that as long as those words were visible on her skin he was going to be spending a lot of time aroused. Seeing her covered like that filled some unknown need in him, something between possession and adoration. Something that was perhaps best not examined too closely.

She caught his eyes in the looking glass, “I can see you watching me, Anders.”

He smiled in return, wolfish, hungry. “I can’t help myself, you’re a beautiful woman.”

She smirked and traced her finger over a spot on her shoulder, another piece of skin adorned with his name. “How many times did you put your name on me?”

He let out a soft breath, glad she was teasing him instead of thinking of the darker implications. “I haven’t a clue.” He slipped from the bed and moved towards her.

“Come, love, hazard a guess for me.” She didn’t turn, just watched him in the glass.

Slipping his arms around her he bent to kiss the spot on her shoulder with his name, “Not nearly enough.” 

Her smile widened, “Going to take me to bed yet again?” 

“No,” he picked her up, turning her around and slipped her legs around his waist, immediately his eyes darted back to the mirror to take in her back. “I’m going to make love to you right here.” And that’s exactly what he did.

Afterwards, they curled up back in bed. Anders told Sekhmet about his family. He admitted how little he knew about Maric, how he’d not wanted to get to know him when they finally met. About how he and Alistair had slowly built a friendship and had accepted each other as family with Sareyna’s help. 

And how he and Morrigan had always struggled, two sides of the same coin but unable to find a lasting peace between them. He told her about Trelain, though not about Urthemiel. He still wasn’t sure how to tell anyone. He even told her what little he knew of Fiona, his birth mother.

And finally, Anders told her about Rhoswen being the only mother he really remembered. About how she’d taken him on the run to protect him from the Templars. And staring at the sheet between them he spoke of how she died, how the Templars had killed her. 

He had never spoken the words out loud before. Saying it now, hearing himself say that they killed her to get to him, it stirred something dark and primal in him. Before, he’d never let himself think about Rhoswen, about the way she died, about the reason she died.

He lifted his head, tears running down his face, “The Templars killed my mother because she wouldn’t let them take me away and lock me up. She was a hero, a damned war hero from the war with the Orleasians if you can believe that, fought at Maric’s bloody side. He trusted her with my life and they slaughtered her like she was some dumb animal, right in front of me.”

His voice dropped low as pain and grief and a rising tide of anger flooded through him, “And they dare call me a monster?” He felt his skin opening, felt Justice struggling to come forward. “I’ll show them a monster.” Taking a deep breath he pushed Justice back and reined himself in. As if he hadn’t had enough reasons to hate the Templars before. 

Now that he finally acknowledged what had happened to Rhoswen he felt a renewed sense of purpose, he would destroy the Templars and the Chantry that supported them. Was it any wonder he’d felt so drawn to Sekhmet? They had both lost a parent and their innocence to the Templars.


	64. Fit To Be Tied

It was getting harder and harder to keep Sekhmet distracted. When she got bored she started talking about finding bigger jobs or hunting Templars again. And as much as Anders felt a burning need in him, stronger than ever to hurt the Templars, to destroy them utterly he couldn’t let her go. She was pregnant, and he didn’t care how far along she was. Sareyna had barely been pregnant when she’d lost her second child.

And she wanted to talk about what happened in the Fade. He’d told her a bit of it, as much as he dared without having to divulge that Trelain was there. Because, Trelain, just how in Thedas did he explain the strange child. He wasn’t even completely sure himself how it had all happened. 

It wasn’t as if Morrigan had been forthcoming about the rituals she had performed that had caused it all to happen in the first place. Anders hadn’t pushed much either, as cold as Morrigan usually seemed she cared a great deal about Sareyna. It must have been hard knowing she was the reason that Sareyna and Alistair’s child had essentially been killed when Urthemial’s soul displaced the child’s own.

Anders often wondered how Sareyna managed to forgive such a thing. He wasn’t sure he could have in her place. Yes, Morrigan hadn’t meant for it to be Sareyna’s child that lost its soul, but still she had caused it to happen. Just more proof that Sareyna was a far better person the he.

After all, here he was keeping secrets from his wife. And they were two fairly large ones. Besides hiding the truth of who Trelain was from her he wasn’t telling her anymore about Alpan. 

The strange spirit, or whatever she had been, that he’d run across in the Fade had been on his mind often. He’d even sent a letter to Morrigan at the palace in Ferelden hoping she’d respond. He needed to know if sharing his magic with Sekhmet could hurt either of them.

He tried stopping it from happening several times since coming back from the Fade, it was a lot harder than he imagined, and Sekhmet became upset when she realized what he was doing. He’d tried telling her he was concerned about what it would do to the child but she waived it off. When she’d asked what he was worried about he’d had no answer to give her.

He checked both her and the baby several times a week to make sure they were both healthy. So far, other than the connection between him and Sekhmet there was nothing unusual about the pregnancy or her health. Maybe what had happened with Alpan had nothing to do with sharing his magic with Sekhmet. It might have been something altogether different.

He hadn’t been able to find anything about Alpan or sharing magic in their library at the estate. A contact for the Underground was searching the library at the Gallows. He kept feelers out with merchants and dealers for any books about magic, especially those from Tevinter. All he could do for now was wait.

Anders finished with the list he was making and glanced up to the doorway where their strange connection told him she had been for the last several minutes. She was leaning against the door frame, her eyes closed. Poor woman, she was clearly tired whether she wanted to admit it or not.

He took a moment to enjoy just looking at her. He’d barely been able to keep his hands off her lately. Yes, the sex was a convenient if temporary diversion. But, knowing she was pregnant, that it was his child she was carrying had his head swimming. 

He had an idea he was going to be one of those men who just wanted her more as the pregnancy went along. There was something incredibly sexy about a woman’s ability to create life, to carry another life inside of her and bring it forth into the world. He headed towards her, his body, his heart, his soul calling out for him to close the gap between them.

********

Anders had been touching her surreptitiously, teasing her all day. She’d been hot and needy for hours as they’d worked on things around the estate, paying bills, going through the pantry. The day had rolled by slowly as any of a hundred small and inconsequential tasks that nonetheless needed to be done by them were completed.

And then Anders was there rubbing her shoulders. “Come upstairs, I can do a better job if you’re lying down.”

She smirked and snorted, “I’m sure you can.” The man had been damn near insatiable since discovering she was pregnant. Had she thought they’d had an active sex life before? 

If things kept going the way they were she wouldn’t get the chance to even leave their bed before long. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Anders very firmly believed in having sex whenever and wherever the mood struck, at least within the estate walls. 

Even now she could feel the desire coursing through him, feel him fighting it, “Just a massage,” he promised.

She let him drag her up the stairs to their bedroom where he was tugging impatiently at yet another buckle, “Why do you feel the need for so many buckles?”

“Why do mages wear robes?” Sekhmet countered. He might be planning on just a massage, but she wanted to be naked, wanted to feel him touch her more than the teasing caresses he’d been driving her mad with all day. 

“That’s easy.” Anders, who rarely wore robes anymore but had tossed one on quickly this morning out of convenience, tugged his robe off over his head and pushed off his smalls in seemingly one fluid movement. He held out his arms and raised an eye brow as if presenting a prize.

Sekhmet chuckled. “Are all mages are that easy?” She knew they weren’t all that damned gorgeous naked.

“Only the sexy ones.” He reached out and pulled her close to him again. “Now get this off so I can give you a nice, long, naked massage.” He pulled at another buckle.

She stepped back and quickly worked the buckles and pulled off her clothes, there weren’t all that many buckles after all. Anders was just being impatient. Before she had finished standing back up, Anders wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. 

“Mmm, that’s much better. Still don’t know why you have so many buckles.” He dropped his head and kissed her shoulder.

“You have a half dozen belts.” She giggled, pleased to feel his warm skin caressing hers.

Anders nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. “But they all come off with just the one buckle.”

She pulled back and gave him a little smile, a wicked idea, one that had been on her mind for a while took flight. He hadn’t been wearing his coat today, but he wore it often enough. “Have I ever told you why I don’t like that long coat of yours?”

He arched a brow, almost pouting with those gorgeous sculpted lips of his. “You don’t like my coat?”

She wriggled out of his grip and slithered down so she was on her hands and knees on the floor before she became distracted by his mouth. Anders’ mouth was inordinately pretty and he could do such…such incredibly sweet, incredibly crass, and incredibly satisfying things with it. The man’s mouth was a menace to her sanity sometimes.

She wanted to focus on something else today. So, she dropped her head down and used her own mouth. With slow deliberateness she licked a small arc around the outside of Anders’ ankle, tracing around the bone. Anders inhaled sharply and nearly pulled his leg away but she grabbed him quickly, stilling him.

She flashed a glance up at him, gratified when he stilled himself. Releasing him she watched his eyes as she traced the tip of her tongue up his leg starting at his ankle until placing a soft kiss at the vee shape on his hip bone. Anders cupped her chin briefly, watching her with darkened eyes. 

His thumb traced along her jaw and she let him hold her there for a moment before pulling back. He looked at her curiously as she bent back down to his other leg giving it the same treatment. Anders’ cock was hard and straining.

He might be slightly confused by what she was doing, but he clearly liked it. He was obviously unsure what to do with his hands. He touched her hair when she was close enough to do so, but didn’t try to hold onto her again. And when she shifted he dropped them to his sides.

She moved again, tilting her head, letting her hair just barely brush against his erection. Sekhmet wanted to tease him, but this wasn’t about his cock. “You have the most amazing legs: long, lean, muscular and unbelievably beautiful.” She trailed wet kisses down his thigh and massaged the backs of his legs. “And you are always covering them up with that damned coat.”

She pushed his legs apart a little, wanting better access and he eagerly obliged spreading them wide. Anders canted his hips forward for her, too. He leaned back slightly resting his hands towards the backs of his thighs, right below his buttocks. All the awkwardness was gone from him now. He was displaying himself, offering himself to her. 

Fuck, he looked sexy. His body, his whole posture saying _“this is what you want, come and get me”_. And that was exactly what she planned on doing. 

Sekhmet ran her cheek up the inside of his thigh and nipped at the sensitive skin there drawing a quiet growl from him. She liked the whispery feeling of the light sprinkling of leg hair against her cheek and the musky scent that hung heavy between his thighs. She dragged her nails lightly down the back of his toned legs as she nuzzled and kissed the delicate, warm skin of his inner thighs. 

********

Anders felt the telltale signs of losing control of his magic and tried to rein it back in. It was too much and too fast. He clenched his hands a little tighter on his thighs; otherwise he might just grab her. Grab her and do what he wasn’t exactly sure, but something, anything to relieve the ache and the need for her.

Sekhmet raised herself up slightly and arched her back. She rubbed her pert little tits back and forth against his thighs. Her nipples pebbled against the hot flesh of his thighs the little points of hardness in the soft pillow of her tits creating a unique and interesting sensation. 

Sekhmet licked her dark and unpainted lips as she pressed herself close against his legs, wrapping her arms around them. She kept rubbing her tits over his thighs, once even raising high enough for them to rub against his cock and balls. He grit his teeth as his erection throbbed, why had he never fucked those perfect little tits of hers? 

Releasing his legs she pulled back and looked at him with an almost shy expression. Sekhmet dropped to her hands and knees again, almost like a cat, and rubbed herself against one calf and then the other. The air was thick and heavy with his magic and Anders all but gave up trying to control it, he always lost control of it eventually.

Blue tendrils started seeping from his pores, tentatively touching her skin as she moved between his legs and undulated. Her side slid against the inside of his calf while his magic started cascading over her, giving Anders the feeling he was touching her even as his hands were still planted firmly on his own legs. Beneath him, she arched and sat up a little, her back now rubbing against the back of his thighs and fingers, her hair tickling at his backside.

Little flickers of lightning and sparks danced around the two of them as Anders lost himself in her touch. At least he knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d been so worried the first few times after they found out she was pregnant. But his magic, no matter how out of control it became never seemed to hurt her.

And since finding out she was with child his magic had become harder than ever to control when they…made love. Strange as it was, no matter what kind of sex they were having he could never think of it as anything other than making love. Because of the type of people they were their love might look different, but it was still undeniably love.

A blue haze had settled around them as Sekhmet moved. Anders looked down at her wantonly rubbing herself against his legs, the heart shape of her ass stark white against the dark red carpet, pale even next to his own pale flesh. Her caressing his legs with her body she looked primal and gorgeous and left him feeling utterly stunned.

Anders had always thought of his long legs as a bit of an aberration, certainly not worthy of desire, and yet here she was rubbing herself all over them like a cat in heat. And she looked completely spectacular doing it. She shifted back a little and Anders could keep his hands to himself no longer. He grabbed her hair and moaned, “Maker, Sekhmet,” not capable of much more thought than that. 

She sat back on her heels for him, back arched, and ran her tongue up the inside of his thigh to the apex of his legs. The lightning started to get stronger, lasting longer as she teased him. Anders shuddered and moaned; trying to stay upright as she swept her tongue forward, under and over his balls and up the length of his straining erection and a shock of lightning hit the wall behind him. 

Neither of them reacted to the arcing light or the shower of sparks that followed.

Sekhmet pulled back, moving downward again she nipped at the inside of one of his ankles. “One of these days,” she nipped the inside of his calf, “I’m going to tie you up,” another quick bite, “so I can kiss” she planted her lips softly against his skin. “Lick,” a quick trail drawn by the tip of her tongue, “and bite every inch of your legs until I’ve had my fill.” 

He envisioned himself tied to their bed, legs spread wide, Sekhmet nestled between them enjoying herself with his legs. Another moan escaped his lips as she skimmed her lips over his calf and dug her nails a little into the back of his knee. It buckled and he only just caught himself as another spike of lightning cracked against the ceiling.

She spread her fingers wide and combed them up lightly through the golden colored hairs of his thighs. Sekhmet smiled, “That feels so damn good, Anders.” 

He wasn’t sure if she meant the magic humming powerfully under his skin or the hairs on his legs, and didn’t really care. How much more of this could he take before he lost his mind, or accosted her and tossed her on the bed? He was pretty sure it was damn little.

She licked her lips as she worked her fingers over his thighs. Wrapping her hands around behind him she gripped his backside firmly and lightning hit the side of the fireplace. Anders, half dazed in pleasure stumbled forward a little half step. 

********

Sekhmet stood slowly, letting her breasts glide over his skin as she moved, and placed a hand in the center of Anders’ lean and finely muscled chest. She smiled as she noticed how completely they were both enveloped in a thick blue cloud of Anders’ magic. She glanced down, seeing in wrapping around her arms, twined around her abdomen and twin ribbons circling both legs. She shivered, liking the feel of his magic, and the potential of it. Anders was learning to use his magic in new and different ways, especially in their bedroom play.

Her eyes moved back to Anders, that’s where she wanted her attention. Not on what he could do to her, could do with his magic, but on what she could do to him. The fine hairs were standing up all over his body, she wasn’t sure she had seen him lose himself like this before; she thought she could even taste his magic not just see, feel and smell it. Fingers still firmly on his chest, she walked him backwards until his legs hit the bed and he went easily tumbling down.

She grinned as she crawled over him, “I think for now, you’ve had about all you can handle.” There were almost nonstop sparks in the cloud that enshrouded the two of them.

Immediately, Anders rolled them so he was above her. She smirked as he kissed her neck almost desperately as his hand ran down her side unable to stop the little sparks that licked across her skin as he moved, “I want you so much right now.”

Her little smirk widened as she wrapped her legs around his trim waist, “Then, I’m all yours.” She wasn’t about to fight him for control, not when he’d been so patient. 

********

Anders could feel the magic bleeding out of his body over her. He reveled in how it let him feel her even where his hands weren’t touching her and how he could feel her heart racing almost in time with his. He took half a second to feel bad for the lack of foreplay on his part before he gripped her hip and buried himself inside of her tight little body. 

She arched and moaned as a stronger pulse of his magic washed through her. It sent Anders’ mind reeling, her pleasure washing back through him on the tide of his magic. He moved above her feeling her thighs tighten around him. Hungry for her, desperate for her he kissed and licked as much of her alabaster skin as he could reach, little flares of magic leeching even from his lips and tongue to caress her. 

He felt half out of his mind as he took her, no finesse, no skill, just an animalistic drive pushing him forward, faster, deeper, harder. Sekhmet gave a little startled cry as another bolt of lightning hit the wall above her. Anders didn’t even slow down, with his magic hanging so heavy over them both he almost felt like part of her, he could feel everything her body felt. 

Anders’ senses were all overwhelmed and Sekhmet must have sensed he was close because she worked one of her hands between them and started rubbing herself towards her own climax as he buried himself into her again and again, filling her, filling his wife.

He cried out as he reached his, literally blinding, climax. Another bolt of lightning sang over them scorching the headboard. And a shower of sparks fell over the two of them, little pinpricks of bright light and momentary flashes of heat.

He struggled to keep moving until she cried out moments later. Collapsing on top of her for a moment, breathless in more ways than one, he kissed her forehead before he rolled off to lie on his back. Shaking his head in disbelief he chuckled a little, “Seriously Sekhmet, my legs?”

She rolled onto her side and kissed him gently. “They’re incredibly sexy.” She rolled onto her stomach and looked at the headboard. “Good thing too, look what you did to the headboard.”

Anders tried to crane his neck to see before finally just rolling over so he could see. “Shit,” he reached up and touched the edge of the still smoking hole riming it with ice. He turned to Sekhmet with a completely unapologetic grin, “sorry, I’ll replace it.”

She chuckled, “No, I kind of like it.”

Anders shook his head, and rolled back onto his back, “Of course you do. You can use it against me in the future.”

Sekhmet moved to snuggle against him, “Only if you’re very bad.”

Holding her close, he knew she didn’t have to see it to know he was smiling, “Oh, I plan on it.”

Sekhmet glanced around the room again, “Do you ever wonder what Orana thinks about all the scorch marks in here when she cleans?”

Anders shrugged, “She grew up in the Imperium. My guess is she either knows, or knows not to ask.”

Sekhmet was tracing little designs on his abdomen. “So how did you explain it before you moved here?”

Anders yawned, “Before?”

She lifted her head a little to look at him. “Yeah, I mean I guess people would know at the Circle and some of the Wardens would understand, but what about elsewhere? What did you tell people?”

Anders took a slow breath; would she be worried when he told her the truth? Only one way to find out, “I didn’t tell them anything, I never had the lightning thing happen before you. The sparks yeah, but they don’t really cause a lot of damage.”

Sekhmet pushed herself upright, looking alarmed. “The lightning thing is new?”

Anders brushed his fingers across her cheek, trying to soothe her. “Don’t look so worried.”

She was scowling now. “Well, you’ve always acted like it was pretty normal. Now I find out it’s new. How do you know it’s alright?”

Anders sat up and pulled her close. He couldn’t stand to see her like that, especially after they’d just _performed_ so spectacularly together. “You hear stories about it at the Circle. What it’s like to make love with someone not just with your body, but with your magic.” He shook his head and smiled, “Not that anyone I knew had ever done it. Letting your guard down like that, it’s a complete and intimate surrender. That’s why no one I knew had ever done it. It takes too much trust.”

She was quiet for a moment as if thinking it over, “So when we do that, is that what you really look like?”

Anders’ brow furrowed in confusion, “What I really look like?” Did he somehow look different when his magic was unleashed? Now there was an unsettling thought.

Sekhmet nodded, “You become surrounded in this sapphire blue, I don’t know, like a cloud almost? It’s beautiful.”

He suppressed a smile. He always thought she used that word way too liberally where he was concerned. “You mean blue like Justice?”

“No, it’s darker, deeper sapphire blue, like the stone. He’s pale blue like the sky on a sunny day almost.”

Anders held out his hand palm up and opened it, willing himself to relax and let go of his control. He’d always paid attention to how she looked with his magic sliding over her skin. He liked the way she looked with his magic curling around her, so he’d never paid attention to what he looked like when he did it, or rather when it happened.

He wasn’t even sure he could will it to happen. It had always happened of its own accord when they were together. It took several minutes but when Sekhmet snuggled against him he was finally able to do it. His arm seemed to have little sapphire blue wisps curling up from his very pores.

Anders became curious, he could always feel Sekhmet with his magic, he wondered if he could make it work in reverse. He slid his fingers between hers, the sapphire wisps becoming thicker and melding together now as he relaxed further. With Sekhmet was the one place Anders knew he was always safe.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the beat of his heart. He could feel Sekhmet’s eyes on him as he focused; it took him a few moments just to tune out her heart. It was the first thing his magic always tuned him into.

Suddenly, Sekhmet’s hand squeezed his and she gasped. “I felt that, I…it’s your heart.”

Anders smiled and looked at her, “And now it’s yours, too.” Trite? Perhaps, but he’d gladly give it to her. The sentiment brought Fenris to mind, but Anders wasn’t offering to rip hearts out to give to her. He pushed the thought aside when he felt Sekhmet’s eyes on him, scowling.

He turned to look at her and the scowl melted away. He watched realization dawn on her making her eyes huge, “How much do you feel?”

“Everything.” He whispered, unsure what had made him say it so quietly, so reverently. They never talked about this, about the change between them his magic had wrought.

“This…Anders, is this dangerous?” She was so quiet.

He shook his head, “It hasn’t been so far. I just feel connected to you.”

Her eyes closed, “You feel what I feel, even outside the bedroom?”

“A little, flashes of strong emotions mostly.” They were both whispering now, as if it were some dark secret.

Minutes ticked by and she stayed like that silent, eyes closed. Her emotions swinging so fast he couldn’t keep track of them. She was running the gamut of everything from relieved to angry and back again. 

And he could offer her no comfort because he was afraid. Not just was he afraid of losing her, but afraid that she would resent him for intruding on her personal life. He’d taken more from her than most people could possibly give and all he’d given her in return so far was decent sex. Hardly seemed fair now that he thought about it.

“Do you like it?” She finally asked.

He nodded, “It lets me feel close to you.”

He could see her hesitating, before she squeezed his hand again. “Can we, do you think we can do it both ways?”

“I have no idea. I mean we did a little.” He lay down and tugged her a little closer, “Come here.” He was relieved when she offered no resistance and just lay beside him, “Closer, I want you to touch as much of me as you can.” She pressed her body against him and Anders suddenly felt like a teenager for some reason, giddy and excited. It was probably the last time he had experimented like this, so it made an odd sort of sense. “Kiss me.”

Sekhmet wound her fingers into his unbound hair and kissed him. He closed his eyes and let her set the pace. He relished the taste, the feel of her. He concentrated on every touch of her skin against his and little by little he felt his magic responding. Licking out in tendrils at first, curling around her waist, around a leg, a wrist, enfolding her slowly, it was a possessive act by its very nature. Like it or not, Anders was a possessive man.

He struggled to concentrate on letting her feel him as he felt her. As the minutes ticked by and nothing happened he became increasingly frustrated. There had to be a way to share himself with her, the way he was able to experience her. He needed to do this with her.

Sekhmet kissed his ear gently, “Relax, you’re getting tense.”

Anders caressed her face, blue trails following his fingers, and the glow encased them completely. How had he never noticed that before? “I just want to share this with you so much.” He furrowed his brow momentarily and rolled them so he was above her again. 

Time to try something else, he was thinking too much about how he might look and not focusing enough on sharing everything with her. “It mostly happens when you’re doing something to me.” He leaned down and kissed her neck, “Maybe it works the other way too.”

He traced his tongue over her throat savoring the slight salt tang of her skin, kissing and nuzzling her soft pale skin before moving down lower. Nipping little bites across her collar bones, he let his mind focus on her, on giving rather than receiving before he bent his head and took a nipple into his mouth. She moaned and her hands wound into his hair again. Little shivers of pleasure slid down his spine when she pulled his hair lightly. It felt so good, just warm liquid pleasure running down his spine.

He moaned against her breast and Sekhmet jerked in his arms. Her breath came in short little gasps. “Oh Maker, Anders, do that again.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he had done that had finally managed to forge the connection, but he tried it again anyways, moaning against her breast and rubbing his erection against her thigh. Anders ended up arching his back as desire and sensation flooded him and Sekhmet shuddered beneath him. He looked at her, “You felt it.”

She nodded, her lips slightly parted and her eyes glazed. “I want you inside me, I want to feel it.”

“Are you sure?” Anders was a little wary, he could barely handle it and he had a lot more practice. And with the full connection they’d just managed it magnified the effect even further. Andraste’s tits, was he feeling his own pleasure filtered through her as well now? Would just be an infinite loop feeding upon itself? He’d go mad.

“Yes, please.” She was squirming under him deliciously, wanting him.

And how Anders loved to be wanted, taking a breath trying to prepare himself for whatever sensational onslaught might follow he shifted until he was between her legs, “Maybe we should work up to that?” His fingers skimmed lightly over the swell of her breast making her eyes flutter closed as another burble of pleasure swept through them both. 

Sekhmet shook her head. This was such a bad idea, but she wanted him, and as always he wanted her, so he would give her what she wanted. Anders bit his bottom lip and was amused when Sekhmet licked hers and felt the faint echo of it on his own lips.

_“At this rate I’ll cum before I even get inside her.”_ He thought briefly before grasping himself and looking to Sekhmet who now had her eyes open and locked on his. Anders slid himself up and down her slit, “Are you sure?” He tried one more time.

They both hissed at the two fold sensation. She simply nodded, maybe words had failed her. Anders wasn’t sure how much more control he had so he pushed gently and as slowly as his pleasure addled mind could manage, inside of her again. Sekhmet’s back arched, her pale body looking like a bow sculpted in white marble. 

Her whole body seemed to come up off the bed as she let out a long moan. “Sweet fucking Andraste.”

Anders chuckled; it was exactly what he had been thinking. He stretched his toes out, panting and surprisingly close to orgasm already. Staying still was driving him mad though; each clench and stretch of her body was echoed in his own. He didn’t exactly know what it was but he never wanted it to stop. “More?”

Sekhmet nodded and Anders pulled back slowly, his mind losing its line of thought as the connection was completed between them. He could feel everything she felt as well as what he was feeling. And Sekhmet could obviously feel it all too. 

They were both shaking, trembling, their nerves not use to so much stimulation. After only a few more slow strokes Sekhmet ceased up and came hard. Anders jerked forward at the feeling, almost a brittle snap followed by a deep flood of warmth and indescribable pleasure. The odd and incredibly amazing feeling of her orgasm pushed him to his own right behind her which made her cry out again.

Sekhmet pushed away from him. Quickly, she slid out from under him taking in deep breaths. “You can’t tell me that’s not dangerous.”

Anders gave a weak laugh as he looked down at himself. Sweet Maker she’d been right, he was covered in the sapphire color. It looked like an odd aura wisping off of him. 

He was more relaxed than he had been in a long time, and instead of looking like everyone else he was covered in magic. It was an interesting realization, but perhaps one for another time. Reluctantly, he pulled his magic back under control again. “Well, maybe to our sanity.”

Sekhmet gave him an impish smile. “I know what I want to try next.”

Anders shook his head, he really was exhausted, but in a completely blissful and satiated way. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so steeped in the languid euphoria he felt after sex. It was almost like being drugged. “No more tonight. I can’t.”

Sekhmet nodded looking a little worn and blissful herself. Then she unexpectedly giggled, “Brings a whole new meaning to the term quickie.”

Anders chuckled, and pulled her close. He wanted her curled up in his arms. “Yeah, what was that, like three minutes from foreplay to climax?”

Sekhmet rolled to Anders’ beckoning arms and kissed him softly. “Thank you.”

“I would give you anything,” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “surely you know that by now.” He had a feeling he was going to sleep well for once.

********

Sekhmet leaned back against the pillar, closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, trying to relax a little. Anders had become a bit of a handful. Sometimes he barely let her out of his reach let alone out of his sight. 

And yet, all the time they spent together it seemed they talked less and less. It had been a couple months since he’d helped Morrigan from the Fade but he wouldn’t talk about what had happened there. His only reply was to say she was finally free.

She’d tried pushing him a few times, but every time she did he immediately thought of something urgent they had to attend to. He would drag her down to the clinic every day, having her tend to those with injuries or mixing herbs. She smiled as she thought about how serious he had been when he expressly forbade her from dealing with their sick patients.

If it wasn’t the clinic he talked her into helping Sebastian with small aid missions in Darktown. Sometimes it was running an errand for Varric and the merchant guild. And sometimes it was helping the Underground, but there was always something to do.

She let her mind wander for a moment to Isabela. The pirate queen had disappeared after their argument and no one had seen her for months. Sekhmet hoped the woman was alright, but thought maybe it was better for everyone that she was gone. Even now she couldn’t think about the Rivaini woman without anger. And poor Fenris, he’d become even more of a hermit during the last few months.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. She needed a break, or a job. A real job not the little bullshit things Anders had her doing. Yes, she was pregnant but she wasn’t helpless. She wasn’t even showing yet, not really.

And as far as she knew Varric was the only person who even suspected she was with child. She’d gone to see him about a letter sent to her from the guild. She hadn’t been in the room for five minutes when smiled and announced, “You’re pregnant!”

She had shushed him before closing and locking the door. And, as calmly as she could, she had explained they didn’t want anyone to know yet because it was so early. She didn’t add that with her and Anders’ history it was a miracle she had managed to get pregnant in the first place. At least he had agreed to keep quiet about it for now.

Her eyes opened bringing her back to the now as Anders knelt before her. He must have finished with his patient. He lifted her tunic a little dropping a soft kiss to her abdomen before resting his head there. Her abdomen was still mostly flat and Anders was already enamored of the small life that was growing inside of her. She smiled, she was pretty enamored herself truth be told.

The two of them had created a life together. It had been tough, brutal at times on both of them emotionally. But the look on Anders’ face when he’d found that tiny spark inside of her…Sweet Andraste it had been worth it. The emotional ups and downs, the self doubt, and even that foul tasting concoction all seemed worth it.

She didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed by Anders’ over protective nature lately. He kept her away from Merrill, which wasn’t difficult considering the elf was angry at her again. Apparently, she thought that by helping Anders and Sekhmet she’d be able to get the arulin’holm. When Sekhmet had refused to give it to her yet again she’d left in a huff of what Sekhmet could only conclude were a string of Dalish curses.

And she thought Anders was pretty pleased that Fenris had all but locked himself away in his mansion. She’d tried to go see him, to make sure he was alright on several occasions but Anders always interceded and got her to focus on something else. She slid her fingers through Anders’ hair as he held her, ear still pressed to her stomach. 

She loved Anders, and she understood just how precious this child was to him. But, sometimes it felt like he was smothering her. The heavy weight of the fact this might be their one and only chance to have a child hung over them both, so she tried to be patient with him and his desire to protect her and their child.

It was one of the reasons she hadn’t told anyone else she was pregnant. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else trying to protect her, or treat her like she was fragile. Anders wore on her enough for everyone.

Anders looked up at her before standing. “Sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I?”

She smiled, she felt a little tired, but she always did lately. “It’s alright, Anders.”

“Everytime I look at you I get so overwhelmed: scared, happy, excited, and worried. And I need to reassure myself that this is real, that you’re real.” He stroked her hair lightly. “I’ll try harder to control myself.”

And that was part of this whole beautiful mess too. They could feel each other now, sense each other’s emotions. There was no hiding from him, no easing the blow from her. She could feel the warmth and joy and terror that he felt when he looked at her. And in turn he could feel how she was struggling not to be angry at all his smothering.

Not that there weren’t good things about their connection. She never had to wonder if he really loved her. She could feel it, feel how he always felt swept away and awed by it.

But he could also feel when she was tired, or irritable, or if she was pushing herself too much. Or, at least when he thought she was pushing herself too much. Could they handle six more months of this without driving each other mad?

“There are no more patients waiting. If you’re feeling tired why don’t we close the clinic and head home? Orana was planning on a big supper tonight.” He slipped his arms around her, “Let’s go home, we’ll have everyone get dressed up in their best clothes and pretend we’re pompous Orleasians. I’ll even wear those silk trousers you love so much.”

She giggled, couldn’t even help herself. His enthusiasm was literally infectious with her. Who was this playful man, with bright shining eyes and mischief twinkling in them brightly?

“Orana can play some music and we’ll dance until our legs are weak, and then we’ll stuff ourselves. Come on, Sandal would love it.” He kissed her neck, sighing softly against her skin.

Trying to fight him when he got like this was pointless. He’d decided the day had been productive enough and was ready to enjoy the evening. He’d worked hard over the last few months to make their little estate more like a home.

And not just had he been creating a home but he’d been creating a family. Orana, Sandal and Bodhan joined them each meal time, sharing their plans for the day, or what they had actually done. Anders had redoubled his efforts schooling both Orana and Sandal. And he did his best to include Bodhan when making decisions around the estate.

When he’d discovered she was pregnant so much had changed. Anders had told her that the world outside could wait. He needed to be with her, be her husband and that all of their problems and concerns would still be there later.

It had taken her a few weeks to agree; after all they had a child on the way that could very well be a mage. The Templars were still there, were still hurting mages and doing awful things. But, she had to be honest with herself. She was pregnant now, and making sure their baby was born was her first priority.

She wasn’t giving up on taking down the Templars, but it didn’t mean she had to be there for every single fight, that she had to take each problem on personally. They did increase funding to the Underground to try to help them with their efforts. And they still did smaller jobs for them, but for now they were content to step back and concentrate on the huge changes coming for them.

She smiled a little. She and Anders had both become rather domesticated in the last months. Oh, he was more the doting type, but she had been doing a little nesting of her own. An excursion to the attic had found a treasure trove of furniture and other things they could use for the baby. She’d been working on cleaning up the furniture for weeks now.

She pulled loose from Anders’ hold and slipped her hand into his. “Alright, let’s go home.” She always thought she’d be a terrible mother, but maybe, just maybe she and Anders could pull this off. And if not, she’d just hope he was a good enough father to make up for her lacking skills as a mother. Besides, it was too late to change her mind now.


	65. The Past Haunts Us-Part 1

“Uh, Master Anders?”

Anders looked up from the book he had been reading, it was one Sekhmet had received from the Dalish Keeper, Marethari. He tried not to scowl, he hated being called that, but the habit was apparently difficult to break. “Yes, Bodahn?” He noticed that Bodahn wasn’t looking him in the eyes and seemed almost nervous. “What’s the matter, Bodahn?”

“There is a visitor at the door for you, messere.”

“Well, who is it?”

“She said I couldn’t tell you.”

“She? You’re making me nervous; you’re not about to hand me over to Meredith are you?” Anders said lightly.

“No, messere, of course not.” Bodahn looked horrified.

Anders sighed heavily and pushed to his feet, he walked slowly to the door, trepidation pooling low in his gut. Who would come looking for him here? He pulled open the door and reached for his cheek as a sharp stinging pain bloomed hot there.

“’Reyna?” Anders grunted as he was captured in a tight hug pushing the air abruptly from his lungs. Sweet Maker, was she really here? He hugged her back just as fiercely. It was good to see her.

“It’s really you.” She released him and stepped back.

Anders smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek, “Come inside already, will you? And no more smacking me around.” 

Sareyna looked thinner than he remembered her eyes not so full of fight and laughter. She gave him a strained smile and followed him into the house, “You deserved that, and you know it.” 

He didn’t answer her, didn’t need to. Instead, Anders watched the young boy follow her in; he still had Alistair’s strawberry blonde hair and Sareyna’s violet colored eyes. Trelain was tall for his age and broad like Alistair. “This is Trelain? Wow, now that makes me feel old.” 

“Hello Anders,” Trelain’s voice was oddly resonate for his size and his eyes seemed to be staring almost through Anders, “and Justice.”

Anders felt Justice prickle under his skin and it made him shudder a little. Justice was trying to push through and recoiling at the same time, an odd sensation to say the least. “Hello Trelain.” He pushed the words out, trying to keep his tone pleasant.

Trelain’s expression never changed but he looked to Sareyna, “I’ll stay here, Justice seems uneasy with my presence.”

Sareyna just nodded then followed Anders into the library. He noticed how stiff she seemed, not at all like herself. And the dark circles under her eyes told the truth of her life better than any words would. Her smile was real though as she looked at him and Anders was grateful.

“He looks like his father.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, there suddenly seemed to be too much to tell her and yet no words felt right.

She nodded her head, “He does, can we sit? My legs are tired.” 

Anders motioned to a chair behind her, it was the most comfortable one in the room and she looked like she could use it. “Something to drink?”

Sareyna nodded again and Anders swept from the room, his emotions all over the place. He was ecstatic at seeing her again; he had missed her and their talks terribly. Truth be told he missed all of them, even Morrigan. 

But Sareyna being there could be dangerous for everyone. She would bring a lot of unwanted attention, especially in a city like Kirkwall that still had a lot of Fereldens living there. Even if most Kirkwallers had no idea who she was their Ferelden neighbors would.

Not to mention she was at the Champion of Kirkwall’s estate, someone else who drew a lot of notice. With Sareyna and Trelain on the run and Anders trying to keep a low profile having both the Champion of Kirkwall and the Hero of Ferelden in one location might be very dangerous. Then again, it might make anyone pursing either woman think twice about the wisdom of their pursuit.

He’d be careful and keep aware, but he wasn’t about to kick ‘Reyna out. It was too good to see her. And she looked like she needed a rest and possibly a friend.

As he crossed back into the front room Justice tingled under his skin uncomfortably. Anders didn’t understand Justice’s reaction to Trelain. He had known the boy at the Keep, why was he now acting so strangely. Justice was oddly quiet, refusing to respond, which didn’t help Anders at all. 

Ignoring Justice he spoke with Trelain, “Would you like a drink or something?”

Trelain looked up with ‘Reyna’s wide violet eyes and smiled Alistair’s smile, “No, thank you.”

Anders gave a brief nod and continued through to the kitchen, the feel of Justice’s spirit fire pulsing angrily under his skin urging him to hurry. Justice wasn’t the only one the kid made feel uncomfortable. Sighing, he filled two mugs with mead and headed back to the library. 

He hesitated for a second on his way through as Justice pushed forward and recoiled again. The sudden shift left Anders a little dizzy. Trelain didn’t even look up; he was just was sitting and petting Tyr. 

That actually made Anders feel slightly relieved. He’d come to trust Tyr’s judgment of people. The Mabari had always been fiercely loyal to Sekhmet and had only become more protective since she’d become pregnant. 

He wouldn’t even let anyone in the house if he felt they were a threat. How tickled had he been when the dog had growled at Merrill the last time she’d come to the estate? Even now he had to suppress a smile.

He shook his head and continued to the library. “Here you are.” 

Sareyna gripped his wrist. “Come here.”

He set the tray down and squatted in front of her chair, “What do…” 

His words were cut off when she grabbed him in a hug again. She laid her head on his shoulder, for a long time she didn’t move or speak. He held her and felt more than a little guilty when he realized she was crying. 

She was silent, which made Anders feel even more awkward. His little lioness often cried the same way. He just held her and let her get it out of her.

Finally, she let him go and sat back wiping at her eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“No need for apologies. Things haven’t changed that much.” He gave her hand a soft squeeze. They were still friends, or at least he hoped they were. 

She shrugged a little, “Guess it was the last bit of realizing you really were still alive.”

“I’m so sorry about that, ‘Reyna. I really am.” He shuffled back a little. “It was necessary.”

“I know.” She leaned forward, gripped the sides of his face and kissed his forehead. “It’s so damn good to see you.”

He captured her hand and kissed it quick. “And you.” He let her go and stood up. 

He dragged the other chair close to her and sat across from her looking at her carefully. “Not that I’m not beyond thrilled that you’re here, but you wouldn’t normally just drop by like this. Why are you here? Is everything alright?”

Sareyna gave a short bitter laugh, “Nothing has been right in years, Anders.” She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, “I should have stayed in the Wardens. None of us would be in the mess we’re in.” She paused and sighed, “I’ve been running for so long I’m not sure I even remember how to live a normal life in a home with those I love. Don’t take it for granted Anders. Fight to keep it.”

Anders watched her; she looked tired and infinitely sad. “I’m not sure you could have changed any of this.”

“Really?” Her face was hard, some of the spark he remembered returning to her eyes. “Would you have merged with Justice if the three of us were there? Would there have been a Templar dogging you if I had been there? Would Trelain have spent his whole life on the run if I had stayed? Would we have been attacked by Crows if we had stayed? I think not.”

He couldn’t stand it when she got like this. “So, you’re still playing the martyr. It always was such an ugly look on you.”

Sareyna didn’t snap back, she just sighed, “I’m just weary and lonely.” She took a slow breath, looking Anders in the eyes. “Andraste’s ass Anders, I’m so damn lonely all the time.” Tears shimmered in her eyes again but didn’t fall.

Seeing this woman he admired so much, brought so low by the circumstances of her life was sobering. He’d once been envious of her embarrassment of love. She’d had the complete love and utter devotion of two incredible men not so long ago. 

And now, even though the love remained, she was alone. Just her and her son washed up on the shores of Kirkwall to come knocking on his door hoping for a friendly face.

“Stay here tonight, get some rest. We’re well guarded; you and Trelain would be safe.” Bad idea or not, he really wanted her to stay. She needed a rest and he wanted more time with her. He wasn’t one of her lovers, but he was a friend, and maybe it was enough to ease the ache he saw in her for at least a little while.

She tilted her head a little, looking surprised. “And your lover wouldn’t mind a strange woman and child in her home?”

“As she’s so fond of reminding me it’s our home, and she has wanted to meet you for a while.” He’d always suspected the two women would get on rather well. He hoped he was right.

Sareyna smiled again and touched his hand again, “I never could say no to you.”

Anders chuckled, “Seems to me you couldn’t say no to just about any man with blonde hair.”

She shook her head, smirking just a little. “No, just Theirins and Zev. You Theirins will be the death of me yet.”

********

Sekhmet pushed open her door and froze, there was a strange boy sitting in front of the fire petting her dog. 

Sebastian, not expecting her to stop nearly ran her over. He protectively wrapped an arm around her as he stumbled forward. “Oh, hey, what? Who’s that?”

Sekhmet shook her head. “Not really sure.” Did she even know anyone with children? She walked forward and entered the room slowly, “Uh, excuse me, who are you?”

The boy looked up as Bodahn rushed over, “This is the Hero of Ferelden’s boy, Trelain. Sareyna is in the library speaking with Master Anders, messere.”

Sebastian flashed her a smile, “You have company. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t you want to meet her?” She prompted, not wanting to be left with the boy for some reason.

He took her hand and kissed it, “Thank you for your companionship this evening, as always dear sister. Give Anders my best.” With that he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

She watched him go. At least it had been a fairly low key evening. Just dinner at Flora Harriman’s with a few people the noble had been pressuring to pledge themselves to Sebastian when, and if, he decided to take back Starkhaven. 

She hadn’t even really been there as his date, just to impress upon the others that Sebastian had powerful friends already. It had been a quiet dinner, a few hours sitting and talking with whoever got up the courage to come talk to her while Sebastian circulated through the small group being his charming self. She’d actually enjoyed watching him work. 

Personally, she’d always thought he’d be better off staying with the Chantry, but tonight he’d made her rethink that. With his good looks and charm he’d probably be a damned fine leader. He certainly played the role of prince rather well. 

Then again, what did she know? She was an apostate’s daughter, lived half her life on the run and most of the rest of it as a peasant. Maybe Sebastian was too nice to go head to head with the nobles. She’d seen some of their handy work over the years. They were a pit of vipers. 

She was about to head to the library when the boy spoke, “You are Anders’ da’vhenan?”

“I’m sorry?” She was more than a little surprised by the resonate quality of his voice, it reminded her a little of Justice.

“His sweetheart?” The boy was staring at her intently.

She laughed, feeling a little nervous and not sure why, “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

“I would speak with you.” He turned his attention back to Tyr.

Sekhmet looked towards the library briefly, “I should let Anders know I’m home.” He’d be able to feel she was in the estate. But she still wanted to see him or wanted him to see her, see that she was fine. The man worried too much.

“Please sit, this is important.” His tone was even, but the slightly resonate quality stayed.

Sekhmet was unsure for a moment, especially when she felt the soft tingle of magic in the air, but her trepidation seemed to fade quickly. She sat on the floor crossing her legs and pulling off her gloves, “Alright, what is so important?”

He turned and looked at her, head cocked, “You do not care that your lover is possessed?”

It was a strange way to start a conversation but she found herself merely shrugging before responding. “Anders and Justice had already merged when I met them. It’s all I’ve known. I love them the way they are.”

“You love _them_? As in you having feelings for each of them?” His violet colored eyes were intense as he stared at her.

“Justice is a part of him, I love all of him.” Why was she feeling so defensive? This was just a child. Something whispered in the back of her mind that he wasn’t just a child, but what else could he be?

“And if you thought they could separate? Would you encourage Anders to do so?” 

Tyr suddenly jumped up, startling her a little. Her dog settled next to her, eyes watching Trelain curiously. She stroked his fur, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“It doesn’t matter. They can’t be separated, Anders already told me that.” She scratched behind Tyr’s ear hoping to calm him.

The child’s lips quirked a little almost a smile but not quite. “It is only Anders’ and Justice’s wills that keep them from being able to be parted.”

She scowled, “No, there is no known way to reverse possession without the death of the mage.”

“Perhaps your Chantry wants you to believe that. But the question I asked you, was would you try to encourage them to part?” His eyes were staring fixedly at her dog now.

“It’s not my choice. If such a thing were possible it would be up to them to decide whether to do it or not.” She shifted and it felt like a fog was lifting itself and a flood of questions filled her head. “How could you possibly know about Anders and Justice? Did your mother tell you? And where did you get the idea they could be separated?” Something was very wrong with this boy, but she had no idea what it was exactly.

Trelain sighed, “Anders never told you who I am?”

“You’re Trelain, Sareyna and Alistair’s son, his nephew.” It was his eyes she realized, he didn’t seem to be blinking, or maybe it was her imagination trying to explain the unease she felt. 

“I am and I am not. I have another name, it is Urthemiel.”

The name was like ice water down her spine. “No, Sareyna slayed Urthemiel.” Sekhmet started to stand up when she felt herself pushed down and held there. 

She shivered as she felt the Fade press at her. She wasn’t sure if this boy was Urthemiel, but he was definitely a spirit. She’d spent enough time with Justice and Anders to know the feeling. And he was strong, stronger even than Anders; it chilled her to the bone. What if he was telling the truth?

She felt herself shaking her head, negating his very presence because if this really was Urthemiel than this…this child was responsible for her brother’s death. And she was sitting here chatting with him amiably. She clenched her fist and tried to push away from him. 

Again, she was ensnared and held in place by magic. Tyr was sniffing the air but wasn’t barking or attacking Trelain. Had the boy done something to her dog?

“I do not have time to explain this all, Anders can explain it to you later. But there are things you and he need to know.” He glanced up briefly towards the library. Could he feel Anders getting restless too?

Realizing that if the boy meant to hurt her no one would be able to stop it in time she tried to relax. If Anders felt her anxiety he might come charging in and spook the boy, or worse. So far he seemed only to want to talk, so she would oblige him. “Why are you telling me and not Anders?”

He tilted his head, his gaze seeming to penetrate right into her bones. “You can feel me, interesting.” Trelain reached out and his fingers stopped a few scant inches from her face.

Sekhmet didn’t flinch she just watched him curiously. It felt odd, an alien pressure on her skin. There was no passion or anger to the touch; it oddly felt like nothing, almost like a void, but somehow still pressure. 

Trelain seemed to notice her slight reaction. “You don’t seem to like it much. I would have thought it would be easier on you than the way your lover feels.”

It was odd hearing a child call Anders her lover. “Perhaps it is because I am used to them. You haven’t answered my question.” There was no way to politely explain to him that everything about Anders was filled with passion of some sort, even his magic and Justice.

Trelain’s fingers slid downwards as if he were caressing her cheek even though he never actually touched her. He smiled, this one easier, charming even. He looked very pleased, almost relieved. “You feel like Anders used to.” 

“You have to stop.” She’d felt huge surge of fury wash over her and it hadn’t come from her. 

Setting his hand back in his lap Trelain continued, unfazed. “Because his spirit knows what I am and wants no part of me. But that does not matter. There are things I would have you understand.”

“Sekhmet?” A deep resonate voice called out sharply from behind her.

She turned to find Anders standing in the doorway to the library. Only it wasn’t Anders, Justice’s spirit fire licking up along his arms was proof enough of that. Heat rolled off him in huge waves, she could feel it even across the room where she sat. He was ablaze, hard to even look at. 

Sekhmet stood up as he started to cross the room, and even with Justice covering Anders’ brown irises she could see he was glaring at Trelain. For a moment she thought he would walk right past her. He stopped short next to her and glared down at Trelain still sitting calmly on the floor.

“You are not to touch her.” The spirit growled, his voice reverberating in the stone walls.

“Anders? Trelain? What’s going on?” A tall, black haired woman that Sekhmet assumed was Sareyna was standing a few feet behind Justice, a beautiful, long and deadly sharp looking sword in each hand.

This could get out of hand very quickly. Sekhmet resisted the urge to grab for the knives hidden in her sleeves. More weapons would make this worse not better. She moved closer to Justice and touched his shoulder expecting to be burned, “He didn’t actually touch me Justice, it’s alright, I’m fine.”

He didn’t burn her miraculously and when she touched him the waves of heat rolling off him seemed to turn into mild and much cooler pulses. Even the blinding light faded some. “No,” he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him and moved her several steps away from Trelain. “You will not touch her.”

“Anders, what the fuck is going on, are you threatening my son?” Sareyna’s voice was much sharper this time.

Trelain finally stood and very carefully moved another step away, and nodded. “I will not touch her.”

“Trelain, what is going on?” With no answer from Anders she apparently decided to try her son.

“It’s nothing mother; I became too familiar with Anders’ da’vehnan. I will not be so presumptuous again.” He took another half step back away from her and Justice.

Sekhmet could feel Justice pulsating beside her for another moment. He was alternating between very warm pulses and the cool energy she was used to. Tyr was standing between Justice and Trelain looking back and forth between the two of them looking confused. 

Eventually, he moved closer to Justice and nuzzled the spirit’s hand and the warm pulses started to slow. She almost dropped to hug her dog. Tyr was amazing. Sometimes she thought he knew what Anders needed better than she did.

Softly, she spoke to Justice, hoping he would listen now that he was starting to calm down. “Please Justice, calm down. He didn’t do anything.” Her heart raced and her mind was frantic, _“Please do not hurt these people, they are Anders’ friends.”_

As if he had heard her thoughts he turned to face her as she gripped his hand in hers and caressed his face with the other hand. She’d nearly forgotten that Sareyna had once been Justice’s friend as well. Was he remembering that now? Slowly, the pulses lost their warmth and Justice seemed calm at last.

“He did do something.” He turned to look at Trelain, “You are not to touch her.”

Trelain nodded, “I apologize.”

There were another few beats of silence before Justice receded completely. Anders smiled a little sadly then kissed Sekhmet’s forehead. “Thank you.” He gave her a rueful smile then scratched behind Tyr’s ear. “And thank you.”

Tyr barked happily and settled back down.

“What happened?” Sekhmet asked cautiously.

“Yes, what exactly just happened?” Sareyna began sheathing her swords. “One moment I was talking to Anders then he’s covered in blue fire and bolting for the door.”

Anders looked at Trelain, “You can’t do things like that, Justice and I feel everything with her. And Justice does not share well.” Was he purposely avoiding Sareyna's question?

Trelain was still being solicitous. He nodded, “It seems not. I had not realized that things between the two of you were so…Well, I was not aware humans knew how to do that anymore.”

“Do what?” Sareyna was clearly annoyed now.

Trelain kept his eyes locked on Anders when he spoke. “He shared his magic with her.”

“Shared his magic?” Sareyna moved forward looking over Anders and Sekhmet.

Trelain waived Sareyna off, “It doesn’t matter. I was curious because I felt magic on her; the only important thing is that Justice felt I overstepped my bounds, nothing more, nothing less. I should have foreseen the spirit’s…concern. I was careless and I apologize to you both.” He made a deep bow to them then covered his mouth as he yawned.

Sareyna turned to Anders again, “Is the offer still good to let us stay here?”

Sekhmet responded in his stead. She didn’t want Anders shipping them off out of some sort of worry about what happened. They were both tired and clearly needed a decent rest. “Yes, please. We would be happy to have you.” She turned to where Bodahn was standing half hidden in the corner. “Bodahn, can you and Orana put fresh linens in a couple of rooms for me?”

“Right away.” Bodahn left the room quickly.

“I think we frightened him.” Sareyna sighed.

Sekhmet laughed, “I don’t think there’s anything in the world that could scare that dwarf other than losing Sandal. And he’s seen a lot worse than that with us. He’ll be fine.”

Sareyna nodded, “Thank you for letting us stay.” She crossed the room and extended her hand to Sekhmet. “By the way, I’m Sareyna, pleased to finally meet you.”

Sekhmet clasped Sareyna’s hand firmly in her own. “Likewise, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time.”

Sareyna smiled, “Alistair spoke very highly of you.”

Sekhmet bit her lip almost embarrassed, “Yes, well, I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I wasn’t going to let him take Anders.”

“And that’s why he liked you.” Her eyes strayed quickly to Sekhmet's belly before flitting away. She looked to Trelain who was still standing several paces away and was watching the three of them. “Stop staring, Trelain.”

He looked up to Sareyna then back to Anders and Sekhmet, “I apologize I did not mean to stare. I’m just fascinated with how intertwined they are, I’m not even sure they know they are doing it.”

Anders scowled, “I’ve experimented with touching her with my magic on several occasions.”

Several occasions, was he serious? He touched her with his magic every time they had sex, which was pretty damned often. He’d probably touched her with his magic at least a hundred times. 

Trelain smiled and waved his hand quickly in front of his body. The air rippled and Sekhmet gasped when she saw the sapphire blue of Anders’ magic twining around her body. “This is what she looks like to me, right now.”

There were thin tendrils snaking around most of her body, but over her abdomen was a wide swath of it. Was it strange that she felt oddly comforted by that? Seeing it she felt like Anders was protecting their child even now. 

And would being steeped in so much magic in the womb make their child more likely to be a mage? She almost hoped it would. If the child was strong like Anders…it would be a good thing as far as she was concerned. 

Anders could teach the child to be smart and powerful like he was and it wouldn’t need to know of killing with a blade. As much as they were living in some strange fairy story right now, there was still danger lurking outside that door. She’d love to hope and dream that their child would be free of such things, but she knew better. No, it would be better for everyone if the child never had to touch a blade.

She suppressed a shudder. Funny how carrying a new life inside you could change the way you looked at the world. She’d never been bothered by the idea of killing before, she had always felt like her blades were a part of her. She enjoyed the feeling of a well executed kill.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what business did she have trying to bring a child into the world? At least Anders was a healer. He knew about compassion and helping people for no other reason than because they needed it. She quickly quashed the feelings of doubt before Anders picked up on them. She was glad he seemed to be distracted by the magic wrapped around her.

“But…no I have to be relaxed for it to work.” Anders looked worried as he ran his fingers over a thick ribbon of sapphire energy flowing from him and wrapping around Sekhmet’s waist.

“You might have to relax to see it, to feel it, but I believe there is at least a small piece running between the two of you all the time. And right now, you’re feeling the need to keep her close and it shows.” Trelain seemed positively giddy at the prospect.

Sekhmet was transfixed by the energy swirling around her. A small smile played about her lips as she looked up at Anders. “And I thought I was possessive.” She giggled.

“It’s not funny.” Anders took a step away from her and looked back to Trelain, “How do I stop it?”

Trelain shook his head. “I don’t know that you can. I have never actually seen it. I heard of it now and then in my former incarnation, but it was a very rare thing. I never heard of anyone stopping it. Though those who had it would not have wanted to stop it, the link would have been forged purposely. And I’ve certainly never heard of it between a mage and a non mage.” He canted his head a little, looking at her closely, “But you’re something different and special, aren’t you?”

“Uhm,” She shrugged, “Not really, just from a family of mages.”

The sweet and charming smile touched his young face again. “Not a mage, but close, you’re…something. You’re sensitive to magic, aren’t you?” 

“I can feel it.” She didn’t like his continued interest in her. She hoped he wouldn’t rouse Justice again. Chances were they wouldn’t be able to calm him a second time.

Trelain looked to Anders, “Father was right, she is very special. Would you like to see?” 

Anders nodded, eagerly. 

Trelain waived his hand again, the air rippling a second time. This time sheer streamers of a purple energy seemed to flow from Sekhmet and twine around Anders. Sekhmet looked at her hand, waving her fingers as the energy flowed from her hand. Anders looked down and saw it seemed to be seeping from her much in the same way his magic was seeping from him.

“What is it?” He asked awed.

Trelain shook his head, “I know of no word for exactly what it is, what she is.”

“What I am?” Maker, that didn’t sound good.

“Do not worry; it’s more common than you think. Especially in families where there are more than one mage. You’re not quite a mage, but not quite a non mage either. And you seem to be closer to mage than not. You probably have some gifts you don’t even associate with magic, do you not?” Trelain had taken a small step forward, but stopped when Anders pulled her tighter against his side.

“She’s fast; I’ve never seen someone move so fast in my life.” Anders was looking at her smiling.

“That’s not true; Fenris is as fast as I am.” She countered, the whole idea of being almost a mage seemed absurd.

“Perhaps, but only for short bursts, and it’s because he has the lyrium in his skin.” Anders retorted just as quickly.

“He has lyrium in his skin?” Trelain was suddenly very interested.

Sekhmet nodded, “Yes, it’s a long story.”

“Maybe they can tell you about it tomorrow, Trelain. I’m tired.” Sareyna had been watching the little exchange but this was the first time she’d piped in.

Anders ran his fingers over the purple strands he could now see with Trelain’s help running from Sekhmet to wrap around him. He chuckled, “Purple, of course it’s purple.” He looked to Sareyna, “She dyes everything she can purple.”

Sareyna was the one staring now, her eyes sad as she looked at the threads of light. Slowly, she turned to Trelain, “Do we look like that, Ali, Zev and I?”

Trelain shook his head slowly, obviously not enjoying telling her the truth. “No, but remember in all my life I had never seen it before. It is extremely rare.” He turned to the doorway as Bodahn returned.

“The rooms are prepared.” He announced cheerily then gasped as he saw Anders and Sekhmet. “Messeres!” He dashed across the room to them. “Are you alright? Shall I go get the elf?”

Sekhmet chuckled, “It’s alright Bodahn. Trelain was just showing us something that we wouldn’t normally be able to see but is happening all the time between Anders and me.”

Bodahn sighed with relief before he looked to Sareyna, “I apologize, I did not mean to insinuate you would hurt them.”

Sareyna nodded tiredly, “Understood, they obviously mean a great deal to you, Bodahn.”

He nodded and smiled at Sekhmet and Anders. “I told Varric you two were soul mates.” He sighed, looking very pleased. “It’s beautiful.”

Sekhmet raised an eyebrow, “Maybe we’re just possessive.”

“No ma’am, soul mates and you’ll not dissuade me.”

Sekhmet laughed quietly, he was a good man and she was glad to have him as a friend. “Very well, Bodahn.”

Bodahn moved brusquely around behind the two of them, ushering them towards the stairs. “Now you two head upstairs. Mistress Hawke needs to take a bath, the water is already drawn and Orana will be up shortly with some food.” He shooed them up the steps before turning his attention to Sareyna and Trelain, the strange boy was still staring after them even as they moved up the stairs.

Bodahn gestured for his new charges to follow, “If you two will follow me I will show you to the rooms we have set up for you.” With that he headed up the stairs himself.


	66. The Past Haunts Us-Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is killing me and I can't look at it anymore. Everytime I try to do any editing it keeps changing and growing. These characters will not shut up...Sooo much dialogue. If you spot an error I apologize and if you see it let me know.

Anders came down the stairs and saw ‘Reyna standing beside his desk, looking at a piece of parchment he’d been sketching on the day before. Trelain was nowhere to be seen but Pen and Tyr were huddled together near the fire. Anders didn’t remember seeing Sareyna’s dog the night before. He’d briefly wondered if the dog had passed, how long did Mabari live anyway?

Sareyna smiled at him, “You’re still drawing.” She traced her fingers lightly over the parchment, a portrait of Sekhmet sitting in the window. Mostly in profile it was easy to make out the contours of her rounded belly. 

“Can’t capture her right.” He shook his head, “the shading is all wrong, but I want something to remember this.”

Sareyna nodded, “How far along is she?”

A nervous flutter swept through him. They hadn’t openly spoken with anyone about her pregnancy, although it was fairly easy to tell now. “About four months.”

She set the drawing down and turned to him with a smile, “I told you there was still a chance.”

“You did, it’s…well, it’s amazing is what it is.” He gestured vaguely, the idea was still a little overwhelming.

Her smile widened a little, “Whatever else is going on in your life, Anders, you look happy.” She lowered her voice and glanced up the stairs quickly before speaking. “She’s good to you?”

Anders couldn’t help but smile. “More than you can imagine.”

“And she loves you?”

“Warts and all as her mother used to say.” It was a bittersweet memory.

“And what about you? Do you love her?” Her eyes kept flicking towards the stairs, obviously worried Sekhmet would walk in on their little chat.

“With every beat of my heart and every breath I breathe. I truly cannot imagine my life without her. I’d be lost…” His voice trailed off as he realized that was exactly the fate Sareyna had been faced with for a long time. Living without the men she loved.

Her smile was a little sad, but at least it was a smile. “A home, someone to love, and a child on the way, all the things you dreamed of Anders.”

“Not exactly how I planned it, but I’m not complaining. I’m blessed.” He might forget it from time to time, but Sareyna being there brought it into sharp focus. “Come, let’s get something to eat. Orana probably has something ready and Sekhmet won’t be down for a little while yet.”

“She still sleeping?” 

“No, she had some ideas on some research we’ve been doing and wanted to jot down notes before she forgot.” He led her to the dining room where Trelain was already seated with Sandal. 

Sekhmet joined them before too long and they enjoyed a fairly pleasant breakfast. And although Justice was clearly uncomfortable about Trelain and still angry about last night he was at least remaining quiet and wasn’t fighting Anders. The meal reminded him a little of his days in the Wardens.

Sareyna must have felt the same way. She kept looking up and down the table, that sad smile touching her lips from time to time. Sareyna had flourished as Commander of the Grey. Anders honestly felt she’d abandoned her calling when she left. She was meant to be surrounded by people. 

They lingered about the table for a long time drinking tea. Bodahn regaled them with stories of traveling with Sareyna during the Blight. Sareyna in turn telling stories about working with Anders in the Wardens. Even Sekhmet got in on the fun, telling Sareyna about the time Anders bested everyone without his magic on the coast.

Anders would have been happy to sit there all day and listen to them. He’d been right about Sareyna and Sekhmet. They got along very well, although both women were being cautious with each other. He supposed it was to be expected. 

In a way, they were both being asked to let someone new into their family. And both women were more than a little protective of those they cared about. Anders just counted himself lucky to be among that group for both of them.

Eventually, Trelain popped their little bubble of laughter. “Mother, there are still things we should tell them.”

Sareyna sighed heavily, “Yes, of course.” She slid back her chair and stood up. “Perhaps we can go back to the library?”

Anders nodded, disappointed to have their joy ended so soon. What was it that couldn’t wait a few more hours? Standing, he led the way to the library, hoping Justice remained as well behaved as he had managed so far. He didn’t want a repeat of last night.

The library was dark, not many of the sconces had been lit and Anders had no desire to do so now. Quickly, he dragged the sofa and a couple chairs to form a rough circle so they could all see each other while they spoke. Sareyna dropped into one chair while Trelain claimed the other.

Anders settled onto the sofa, giving Sekhmet’s hand a gentle tug, urging her to sit beside him. Placing his arm around her shoulders he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric they both wore. It was a possessive gesture and he was sure everyone knew it. Justice was getting agitated already, anticipating something unpleasant. And holding Sekhmet against him soothed Justice at least a little. 

“You know, it occurs to me we have a lot to go over.” Sekhmet shifted and looked to Sareyna, “Anders has been putting off telling me things for months now. Being that I’m pretty sure at least some of it relates to his time as a Warden it would be a good time to ask.”

Sareyna looked at her curiously, “Things like what?”

“How about, who Archie is to start with.”

Sareyna started a little. “Archie? You mean the Architect?”

Sekhmet shrugged and turned to Anders, “Is that who Archie is?”

“Sweetheart, Sareyna and Trelain traveled quite a distance to come talk to us. Maybe we should hear them out, first?” Because, how on Thedas was he going to explain Renault?

Sekhmet shook her head and looked back to Sareyna, “You see?”

Trelain finally spoke up. “We’ll explain it as best we can. It all ties in together. Are you an Andrastian?”

“Not devout or anything, but I believe she existed. Not sure how much of the rest of it I believe though. I don’t think she wanted mages locked up and enslaved.” 

Sareyna nodded, “You’re right, she was a mage.”

Anders wasn’t sure this was such a good idea. Granted, Sekhmet was incredibly smart and not prone to just believe what the Chantry told her, but Anders had found it difficult to swallow at first and he had lived through it being unraveled. “Are you sure? You can’t unhear this, love.”

“I want to know the truth.”

“Alright, the truth it is.” Sareyna began her tale, starting with how she and Zevran had shared dreams and how they learned later they weren’t just dreams.

It took hours with Anders and Trelain picking up the story at different points, giving Sareyna breaks. Sareyna told Sekhmet about Renault, the Architect and who and what the Maker really was. And then Anders told her about what the Golden City really was and how it had become tainted. He told her that Corypheus must have been one of the mages who had tried to wrest the city from Renault’s grasp.

Orana brought them lunch and they stopped for a while to eat. Sekhmet had been mostly just listening, asking a few questions from time to time. While they were eating Anders could see her mind working. From what he could discern of her feelings she was mostly curious, which was good.

After Orana cleared away the dishes Sareyna picked up the tale again. She explained how Renault learned of the Darkspawn reproducing and how he kept himself alive. Anders explained about the experiments that led to the creation of the Darkspawn and even shared a few of Morrigan’s theories with Sekhmet. Now was as good a time as any to tell Sekhmet everything.

Trelain interjected at different points clarifying something or picking up the story. Anders was surprised how much of it Trelain knew. He’d been just a baby while it had all been happening. But, he was also the only companion Sareyna had most of the time, so they probably spent a lot of time talking.

Anders let Sareyna tell the story of Flemeth. She’d practically lived it and not only knew it, but understood it better than anyone. As the day wound down and the sun began to set the story finally dragged to an end as well.

Sareyna took a long pull on the drink beside her. Orana had been keeping them well supplied all day thankfully. “And, that’s everything, I think.”

“Almost everything, but we can finish after dinner. Whatever it is smells very good.” Trelain craned his head towards the door, looking very much like a child for once.

Anders pushed to his feet, he’d been pacing and sitting interchangeably all day, as they all had but his back still ached. He looked to Sekhmet and immediately helped her to her feet, magic already swirling around her lower back. If his back was bothering him, surely hers was.

His beautiful wife sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

“You should have said something.” He admonished.

“I didn’t really notice until it was over. Anders, you could have told me this.” 

He raised a brow, “How, it doesn’t make sense even now. And I was there.” He began to steer her towards the dining room. 

“So, what didn’t we cover?” She asked as he helped push her chair in.

“We’ll find out after dinner.” He waited to make sure Sareyna and Trelain were seated before taking his own seat.

The evening meal was followed by more stories from Bodahn and before Anders realized how late it was getting Trelain yawned from across the table. Now that he was thinking about it, he was feeling pretty tired as well. He had to get Sekhmet to bed; she needed more rest now that she was pregnant.

He smiled at Sareyna, “Feel like a soft bed tonight?”

“Are you sure? We don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

He scoffed, “I haven’t seen you in years. We’d love to have you stay for a while.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Yes, stay. It seems we have more to discuss and I’d like the chance to get to know you.”

For a moment Anders worried ‘Reyna would argue. But, she just watched him for a long moment before nodding. “Alright, we’ll stay.”

“Excellent, in that case I’m going to get Sekhmet upstairs, if you don’t mind.” He stood, pulling out Sekhmet’s chair for her and was glad when she didn’t argue either, two for two not bad. 

‘Reyna nodded, “Of course, she needs her rest. And I think we’re going to turn in too. I’m suddenly exhausted.”

********

“How long do you think you can get them to stay?” Sekhmet asked gently, brushing her hair as she watched Anders in the looking glass. 

He paused for a moment before responding, “Not long enough.”

She could tell from the way he’d been acting all morning that he was expecting Sareyna and Trelain to leave today. And the idea clearly pained him. He’d been just a little different since they had arrived. Other than the incident with Trelain he had been a little a little more playful and that impish gleam she got to see on occasion hadn’t really left his eyes. At least not until this morning.

She was almost jealous, almost. This was undoubtedly a glimpse at the man he had been when he was in the Wardens, before Justice. But, even while he was playful and impish he seemed dimmer to her, like part of it was an act he was putting on. His passion for life burned less bright.

“Just make sure she knows they can stay as long as they want.” She was happy to have Sareyna there, if that was what Anders wanted. The woman seemed nice enough, if a little sad, something Sekhmet could relate to.

“I will, but I know her. Whether we want her here or not she’ll feel like she’s imposing.” He sat down and started pulling on his boots.

“Going somewhere?” He usually just wore his slippers around the estate. 

“No, I just…” he looked at her, and he looked so lost.

It made her heart ache; Anders was preparing himself for the worst. His boots made him feel a little more in control, a little more prepared, a type of armor for his mind as it were. She rose and crossed the room, kneeling before him. “Anders, whatever it is, whatever they came here to tell us, we’ll face it together.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, “For them to come all this way...” He took a deep slow breath, “I feel like we just finally got a little peace. I’m not sure I’m ready to have that taken away yet.” His hands reached out for her waist, his thumbs tracing lightly over her rounded belly. “I’ve worked hard to make you and this baby my priority.”

She brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead, “Relax, we don’t even know why they’re here yet.” 

She knew how hard it had been for him. Setting aside the cause of mages, even temporarily, had been difficult. And he’d refused to listen when she told him he didn’t need too. For whatever reason, he felt like he was failing her if he didn’t put her and the child first.

She’d never expected that of him, never asked it of him. Mages were Anders’ calling, his reason for joining with Justice. Until she had come into his life they had been his only reason for living. Having him shift his focus seemed wrong in some way.

He moved again and rested his head on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her pulling her close. His nose burrowed against her neck and she could feel him trembling slightly. 

“Anders?” Now she was getting worried. There was something more going on than him being worried about bad news. “Anders, what’s wrong.”

He slowly stilled and took several deep breaths before responding. Lifting his head he kissed her temple, “Just old habits trying to resurface my love. I’m fine.”

Old habits? She stayed there, letting him hold her, holding him back hoping to offer at least a little comfort. Her hand slid slowly down his back trying to offer comfort.

When he shivered and clutched her tighter she finally realized what was going on. She pushed herself away from him; though he was reluctant to release her he did at least loosen his grip. From the way his fingers were working against her arm she could tell he was fighting himself not to pull her against him again.

Tilting up his chin, she made sure he was looking in her eyes before she spoke. “You’re not that man anymore, Anders.”

He tried to wrench his chin out of her grasp, “How do you know? You didn’t even know me then.”

She held him still, “Because, you could have left dozens of times by now. Maker knows it would have been easier, but you’re still here.”

He closed his eyes, a deep red flush painting his cheeks, “I still want to run.”

“Wanting to isn’t the same as actually doing it, my love.” 

His eyes opened and a single tear slid down his cheek, “What if the only reason I’m staying is because I’m afraid to be alone, to be without you?”

She sighed; he was so cruel to himself. “That’s bullshit. I’d follow you anywhere, and you know it. Don’t you?”

At last there was a little smile, it was slow to form but it was there, on those devastating sculpted lips of his. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Then stop pretending you’re going to bolt just because the thought crossed your mind. You’re stronger than that, better than that.” She kissed him softly, surprised when he pulled her close and kissed her fiercely.

When he broke the kiss he rested his forehead against hers again. “Thank you.”

“We should get downstairs.” She murmured, not that she wanted to. 

He let her go and wiped at his face. “You go on. I’m going to…compose myself. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Downstairs she didn’t see either Trelain or Sareyna. She checked her desk for messages and smiled to see one from Sebastian. It was probably a thank you. He always sent her one after they went to an event together. He was so…civilized.

“Must be something good to make you smile like that.” Sareyna’s voice came from above her. The tall raven haired woman was coming down the steps as she spoke.

“Just me being amused at a friend’s overly proper nature.” She held up the note, “A thank you note.”

Sareyna nodded, “From the gentlemen you were with when we arrived?”

Sekhmet stiffened a little, that sounded a lot like an accusation. “Yes…” She almost started to explain herself and then stopped. She didn’t know this women, didn’t owe her anything.

“Trelain said he was quite familiar with you.” She was standing in front of Sekhmet now, almost towering over her. 

The Hero of Ferelden was a formidable looking woman. And why not? She had been a noble before being a Warden. She’d defeated the Blight and became Commander of the Grey. But titles did little to impress Sekhmet. After all, she was a peasant girl from the ass end of nowhere and she had a title of her own, didn’t she?

Sekhmet raised a brow, trying to keep her tone neutral when her instinct was telling her to attack before her opponent did. “Did he?”

Sareyna’s wide violet eyes narrowed, “Yes.” She took a step closer and glanced up the stairs, “A lot of those smiles of his mask the pain he feels. Don’t let them fool you.”

“No offense, Hero, but you haven’t known Anders for a long time.” She was trying to hold her tongue. She had no desire to argue with Anders’ friend.

“I knew him before you did.” But it was said without much surety.

“You knew Anders before he and Justice merged. A lot has changed since then.” It was harder than she thought it would be not to snap at Sareyna. But, after the morning Anders had been having she didn’t want him coming down to find the two of them fighting.

“Perhaps, but I can’t imagine he’s happy about the possibility of sharing you with another man.” 

She reacted, couldn’t help herself, her mouth opened and words came flooding out before she had a chance to think about it. “How dare you? You don’t even know me. Your boy saw Sebastian reach out to make sure I didn’t fall when he bumped into me. A gesture any decent person would understand. 

“As far as sharing me with another man, Sebastian and I are just friends. Stop trying to lay your own crap at my feet. And, it was Anders’ idea to have me go to parties with Sebastian. Anders is the one who refuses to let me tell anyone we’re married. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to know that everyone is whispering behind your back, gossiping about whether I know which man is the father of my child? The whole time, I’m a married woman carrying my husband’s child?” She stopped herself when she realized tears had started leaking from her eyes and that her voice had been rising higher and higher throughout her little rant.

“You…you’re married?” Sareyna was clearly stunned.

Sekhmet closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _“Let it go for Anders’ sake.”_ “Where’s your boy?”

Sareyna hesitated; she looked like she wanted to continue the conversation. Eventually, she must have realized Sekhmet was done with the whole thing. “He’s with Sandal.”

Sekhmet nodded. “I’ll see if Orana has breakfast done.”

Sareyna touched her arm, “I’m…I’m really sorry Sekhmet. I care for Anders, and I worry about him.”

Sekhmet pulled her arm away and headed towards the kitchen, “It’s alright, I’m used to people assuming I’m a whore.”

“Wait, please” Sareyna followed after her. “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

“Good morning ladies,” Anders’ voice tapered off, “Is there something wrong?”

Sekhmet didn’t bother trying to smile; he would have still felt she was upset. “I think we understand each other now. I’m going to check on breakfast.”

Sekhmet was helping Orana put some glaze on a few sweet rolls when Anders came in and slipped his arms around her waist. 

He kissed her head, “She didn’t mean to, you know.”

“Didn’t mean to what? Insinuate that I’m the town whore?” She snapped.

“Sekhmet,” his tone reproving.

“And why shouldn’t she, after all, that’s who I am right? Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and town whore.” 

“Stop it.”

She felt more tears well up and Orana suddenly disappeared from sight. “Right, because what does it matter to you? If the child comes out looking like you they’ll just think what a poor bastard you are that got stuck fathering my child. Meanwhile I get to live with that label, and so does our child.”

“Whoa, slow down. What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t even thought about that have you? Sending me out with Sebastian, not telling people about our wedding. They’ve all been thinking it for months. And while it’s all well and good for you, what happens when our child hears about their mother being a whore and sleeping with two men? What about when they make jokes about our child not knowing who its real father is?”

She sighed and lowered her head, “It doesn’t matter anyways. It’s too late to make a difference now. They’ll just think you married me to make a respectable woman out of me because I’m pregnant.”

Anders looked lost, “I’m…I’m sorry, what do you want me to do?” 

She shook her head; there was nothing he could do at this point. “Nothing, Anders. Let me finish with breakfast. Go keep your guests company.”

********

Anders stood there for a minute, staring at her in shock. She was right, he hadn’t thought about the consequences at all. What in Thedas were they going to do?

She shooed him away again and he turned and walked out to the dining room where Sareyna was seated. His former commander looked decidedly uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to apologizing and even less used to having that apology not be accepted.

She looked up as he sat down beside her, “From that look on your face, I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

“I’m a fool.” He turned to face her, “Did you hear something about Sekhmet before you came here?”

She nodded, “When I asked directions to the estate at the market, the two women were only too happy to tell me about the Champion, her live in lover, rumored to be an apostate, and her displaced prince. And, how the three of them were now expecting a little bundle of joy.”

He scowled; it wasn’t like ‘Reyna to listen to rumors. “And you believed them?”

She shrugged a little, “Not at first, but several others came over while they were spinning the tale and agreed. And then…Trelain told me about the prince bringing her home and how happy the two of them looked. I didn’t want her using you,” she finished softly.

“Using me? Andraste’s ass, I was living in the sewers half starving before I met her. What in the Maker’s name did you imagine she was using me for?” If anything, sometimes he felt guilty of relying on her for too much.

“I don’t know.” She said, exasperated, “I suppose it sounds silly now, but you never told me she was pregnant. I thought maybe you were embarrassed because it might not be yours.”

“Well, you’ve certainly made a lasting impression on my wife.” He shook his head, frustrated. He’d wanted them to be friends. Sekhmet didn’t have many people she really called friend.

“I tried to apologize.” She replied lamely.

How exactly does one go about apologize for insinuating a woman is a whore? Is there a way to apologize for it that doesn’t seem ridiculously inadequate? “And if you were in position, would you forgive such an accusation so easily?” 

She smiled wryly, “I’d kind of have to forgive it, wouldn’t I? I actually do sleep with another man besides my husband.”

“Which is all the more reason I’m confused by why this would be an issue for you.”

“Because, I know that you wouldn’t want to share her.” She bit her bottom lip briefly, “I’m sorry, I know it was important to you that we get along.”

“I think she just needs time and for me to figure out how I’m going to fix the mess I made.” He slumped back in the chair, this day just kept getting better and better.

“Good luck with that.”

“I’m going to need it.”

********

After breakfast they found themselves back in the library. Sekhmet was calm, but Anders could still feel a thread of sadness running through her. He could kick himself for causing her pain like this. And this was something he should have had the foresight to realize would be a problem. He had no one to blame but himself for his shortsightedness.

Unfortunately, Justice agreed and was currently haranguing Anders, giving him a headache. It wasn’t as if Anders could disagree with him. He had hurt Sekhmet and he wasn’t acting like a decent husband or father. The truth was, Anders had already proved himself a woefully inadequate parent and his child hadn’t even been born yet. 

When Trelain came into the library Justice suddenly tried to push through. Anders just managed to keep control. The spirit was furious with the boy, still holding onto his anger from when Trelain touched Sekhmet and now for causing Sekhmet pain with what Justice called wild stories. More than that he just didn’t like the boy and wanted him out of the estate.

Justice was ranting so loudly it was making it difficult for Anders to think let alone speak. He was about to excuse himself, hoping a little time and distance would soothe Justice when Sekhmet came into the room. She looked at him and he saw a flicker of alarm cross her face. Looking down he saw his skin was shimmering blue in places, not splitting apart yet, but it was clear he was fighting Justice.

She calmly walked across the room, and settled next to him. She curled up against his side and Justice immediately started to calm. Anders wasn’t even sure how to feel about that.

 _“Touch her skin,”_ the spirit prompted and Anders complied, not wanting Justice to keep fighting him. He laced his fingers with Sekhmet and felt a shiver of pleasure ripple through him. Oh, he really didn’t know if he liked that. Justice shouldn’t be reacting to her like that.

“Is uh…is everything alright?” Sareyna’s voice was uncharacteristically anxious sounding.

Sekhmet smiled at Anders, “Everything is fine, just some ruffled feathers.”

Anders looked down at his hand where it was twined together was hers. The shimmers were gone from the rest of his body but the ones on his hand and wrist remained. His heart thudded in his chest and his gut felt like there was a large stone inside of it. 

Justice wasn’t yelling, wasn’t pushing for control, but he wasn’t letting go of Sekhmet either. And the tingling pleasure singing through him didn’t fade either. Justice really liked Sekhmet’s touch. This was…this was so far past not good. This was beyond even bad. 

Trelain, sitting across from them shook his head. “The two of you, together, is a dangerous thing. You were drawn to each other because there is a darkness inside each of you. You have both done terrible…things.”

Anders waited for Sekhmet to speak, sure she would say something. He was surprised and more than a little hurt when she remained silent. Did she think that the two of them being together was a bad idea? Anders was about to speak up, to defend their relationship when Trelain started speaking.

He was focused on Sekhmet when he spoke. “Were the world as it should be, you two would never have met. But the world is a tainted place and the Blight changed the paths of many. Now that you and Anders have met your lives are inextricably intertwined with that of my parents.” He canted his head to the side, wide violet eyes staring unblinkingly at Sekhmet still, “And there’s one last part of the tale to tell.”

Justice grumbled about the boy’s interest in Sekhmet but didn’t try to come forward again. 

The boy shifted in his seat, settling back further in the chair as if to get farther away from Sekhmet. Did he sense Justice’s unease? He watched her for another second before his odd voice at once both childish and resonate filled the space between them.

“Renault had thought to find a cure, a way to stop the Blights, to free the Darkspawn from the call of the Old Gods, and he sought an old god out to test it on. He found Urthemiel and in so doing triggered the Blight. A Blight that shouldn’t have happened as of yet.”

Anders noticed ‘Reyna was sitting very still and rigid in her seat as she stared at the floor. Knowing what was coming, he couldn’t even imagine how hard it must be for her to relive, especially in her “son’s’ voice. 

“You already know my mother and father fought the Blight. She conceived me during their travels, unwittingly affected by my aunt’s magic.”

Sekhmet scowled, “Your aunt?”

“Morrigan travelled with them during the Blight, though none of them knew at the time that she and my father were related. Her mother, Flemeth…”

“What?” Sekhmet turned and looked at Anders, “Flemeth is Morrigan’s mother?”

Anders nodded, “Yes, it’s a long story, one I promise to tell you soon.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that your sister’s mother is so interested in us?” Sekhmet’s eyes were wide in worry.

Trelain sat forward, “You’ve spoken with Flemeth?”

“It was a few years ago, nothing to worry about.” Anders quickly interjected. He wondered how they would take the news that Sekhmet had been the one to bring her to Kirkwall. “Besides, didn’t you have a story to tell?”

Trelain watched him for a moment before settling back. “Very well, we can discuss it later. As I was saying, her mother, Flemeth had tasked Morrigan with performing a complicated ritual that took months to complete in pieces. And at the end of it all, she was to get Alistair to sire a child into which Urthemiel’s untainted soul would be pulled.”

“She was supposed to have a child with her own brother?” Sekhmet was clearly horrified.

‘Reyna spoke up for the first time. “You must understand, she didn’t know Alistair was her brother. And when she did, she chose to leave rather than carry through with it.” 

Sekhmet narrowed her gaze, “But she knew he was your lover, didn’t she?”

Sareyna nodded, “She did.”

Sekhmet looked back at Anders, shaking her head. “An interesting family you have, my love.” 

“And you haven’t even heard all of it yet.” He hadn’t meant it to sound snarky but it did. He’d never really given much thought to the convoluted ins and outs of his family before. But, sitting back and hearing it all, looking at it from Sekhmet’s perspective was a rather…sobering experience for lack of a better term. 

“The archdemon was finally slayed on top of Fort Drakon by Zevran.” There was a slight tremor in the boy’s voice at the mention of the elf’s name. Was that some genuine emotion? 

“Excuse me, but didn’t Sareyna slay the Archdemon? Isn’t that why she’s the Hero of Ferelden?” 

Was Sekhmet just feeling argumentative today because of the disagreement she’d had earlier with ‘Reyna? She hadn’t interrupted nearly so often throughout all the rest of the story, no matter how strange it had been. 

“For reasons that are tied into Warden secrets we couldn’t tell anyone Zevran had slain the Archdemon. He wasn’t a Warden at the time. It would have raised too many questions. So, it was decided I would be named Hero.”

Sekhmet snorted, shaking her head but didn’t say anything.

“As a result of the ritual not being completed by Morrigan my soul travelled into the body of this child.”

Sekhmet looked at Anders and then Sareyna, as if expecting them to say something. Anders could see the shock on her face, could feel it running through the tendrils, invisible now but clearly still there, running between them. Her gaze turned back to Trelain. “Andraste’s ass, you really are Urthemiel?” 

Her grip on his hand tightened and her whole posture became rigid as anger swept through her. It surprised Anders so much he barely reacted in time to grab her and hold her down as she screamed. “You dare bring this monster into my home? He killed my brother. He killed…so many and you just let him walk around like none of it happened?”

She dug at Anders’ hands, “Let me go, I’ll kill it myself if you two don’t have the stomach for it.”

Sareyna started to stand but Trelain put his hand on her shoulder stopping her. He spoke quietly, “You have no idea how much it hurts to know I caused the deaths of so many. But the taint, it brought about a kind of madness. All I knew was pain and anger and a desire to destroy. It was like my ability to reason was torn from me.”

“Your words mean nothing, sad excuses I believe as much as a demon’s promise.” She turned to ‘Reyna, “He murdered your child, don’t you get that? This…thing isn’t your child. It’s a monster wearing your dead child’s skin.”

“I know,” ‘Reyna murmured softly, turning away.

Anders’ heart was aching for his friend, and for the pain Trelain had stirred in Sekhmet. He struggled to hold her as she continued to fight for him to let her go. He pulled her into his lap to make it easier, afraid of what might happen if he lost his grip.

She hissed at him, “Let me go, Anders. Let me go or I’ll leave. You’ll never find me or our child. I won’t have any child of mine raised by a man who protects a monster like that.”

“It’s alright, Anders. Let her go.” Trelain spoke calmly.

“No, there will be no death, not in this house. It’s our home, Sekhmet. Do you really want to spill blood in our home?” He could feel the fury twisting inside of her and had no doubt she’d tear Trelain apart with her bare hands if she had too.

“Let her go, you can’t protect me over your family. She’s right about that.” Trelain’s voice was still soft, still calm.

Anders realized Trelain was right. If he didn’t let Sekhmet go she would never forgive him. And as much as he cared for ‘Reyna, and didn’t want to see her hurt, but if saving Trelain meant he’d lose Sekhmet he wasn’t willing to do that. “Stop fighting and I’ll let you go. But, Sekhmet, he has magic.”

“I don’t care. I’ve dealt with mages before.” She was still snarling at him but she stopped fighting him.

“Mother, do not interfere.” Trelain didn’t look at ‘Reyna, if he had he would have seen the fear in her eyes, but she didn’t argue. She just nodded.

Anders let Sekhmet go and she practically flew at Trelain, knocking over the chair he was in. ‘Reyna stood up and stepped back covering her mouth, tears slipping down her cheeks. Anders stayed where he was trying to separate Sekhmet’s feelings from his own.

He didn’t want to feel the rage and the triumph she was now feeling. Trelain was strange, and he upset Justice, but he was still his nephew, ‘Reyna and Alistair’s child. He couldn’t believe he was sitting by and doing nothing about what was going on.

As for Sekhmet she was astride the boy, who was tall for his age. Her hands wrapped around his neck as she slowly squeezed, cutting off his air supply. Trelain watched her passively as his face turned red.

Why wasn’t he fighting? Didn’t he want to live? Had he come here knowing Sekhmet would kill him? 

Suddenly, her head jerked to the side as if she had heard a noise that might be danger on its way. She closed her eyes and moved her head more as if she were struggling to hear something. Her emotions were running riot, anger, confusion and pain, like an avalanche sweeping her up as it tumbled down a mountain.

Her body seemed to relax little by little. Her hands the last things to let go, Trelain’s face was purple and when she finally released him he coughed and gasped for breath. Anders could feel Sekhmet’s confusion and an overwhelming sadness. Anders felt nearly crushed under it and couldn’t imagine what it must feel like first hand.

She climbed off Trelain and glanced at Anders, tears in her eyes before leaving the room. Anders looked at Trelain who was just now climbing up off the floor. The boy, amazingly, seemed no worse for wear.

He looked at ‘Reyna, wondering if she had any idea what happened. She gestured to the doorway, “Go, she’s going to need you now.”

“What just happened?” He asked, wondering what he was going to have to deal with when he went to Sekhmet.

‘Reyna looked down, “He showed her what it was like to be the Archdemon, and what it felt like when he regained his mind.” She closed her eyes and a tear fell from her cheek to hit the floor. “I could barely breathe when he showed me. It literally took my breath away. And it took me days to recover.”

Trelain’s voice was a little ragged when he spoke, “I’m sorry, Anders. I knew of no other way to explain it to her.” He rubbed his throat a little, a hazy ring of burgundy shifted around his fingers while he healed himself. “I thought it the best way to end things, no bloodshed.”

Anders had to struggle not to recoil at the smell of Trelain’s magic. It was like fungus, not good and clean, but old, rotting. It felt fine, but the smell was…off. He cleared his throat, “Uhm, thank you.” 

Although, he wasn’t sure thank you was the appropriate response to traumatizing his wife. It was better than hurting her or their child. And better than having a dead child in the library, but that pain. It was worse than anything Anders could ever remember feeling.

He left, jogging up the stairs to find Sekhmet. Her tears were gone and she was pacing the room, arms folded across her chest and she looked deep in thought. She was still hurting but there was a new emotion mixed in, curiosity.

“Sekhmet?” He ventured into the room, unsure how she would react.

She paused and turned to look at him. The relief that washed over him was twofold, both his own and Sekhmet’s. She ran to him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she laid her head against his chest.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly.

“A little shaken, I’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath, “There are some things worse than dying. And for him, to live is worse. It doesn’t fix it, doesn’t make it better, but I don’t want him dead anymore.”

She let Anders go and stepped away from him. “How powerful is he?”

Anders shook his head, confused by the question. “I have no idea, why?”

“Because, he had to open himself up to show me that. And he was trying to hide it, but something has him scared.” She shook her head, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s afraid. And if he’s an Old God and he’s afraid, that can’t possibly be good news.”

“Maybe it has to do with why they came.” Anders speculated, not really being able to fathom what might be able to frighten an Old God…except possibly another Old God. 

Sekhmet took his hand and pulled him towards the bed. “Come on, I need to rest and…” her lip trembled a little, “I feel like my heart is being torn apart and forced back together again, over and over.”

Without thinking, Anders was checking her heart. She chuckled and pushed his hand away, “Not like that.” She kissed his fingertips. “It was just a lot of pain, and sadness, a lot of regret. It’s a little overwhelming.”

Relieved, he climbed into the bed with her and let her curl up against him. He held her, stroking her back, trying to keep his mind blank until she fell asleep. She’d barely been asleep for five minutes when he heard Justice speaking to him.

_“Can this pain hurt the child?”_

It was odd to know Justice was concerned about the baby. “No, the baby will be fine.”

There was an odd sensation in his hand as Justice took control of it to stroke her back gently. He shifted to push her hair off her shoulder and gently caressed her neck. _“It tingles when I touch her skin.”_

Anders wasn’t really sure what to make of that. “I know, do you like it?”

_“It is very pleasant.”_

“How are you able to do this?”

_“Do what?”_

“Push through in only certain places?”

_“It is a simple matter.”_

“But you’re not going to tell me how?”

_“I’m not sure how to explain it.”_

“Then at least tell me why?”

 _“I…”_ there was a long silence. _“I enjoy sharing with you. I feel less like I am stealing something from you this way.”_

Anders didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even sure what to think about that. The sharing of experiences with Justice was strange. But, he had to admit, so far it had not been unpleasant. And Justice didn’t try to force him to do anything. Well, at least not yet.

Justice traced a finger along Sekhmet’s jaw. So much excitement and having so much emotion dumped on her really much have worn her out. Normally, she’d jump up at the slightest touch.

 _“Would you allow me to show you something, my friend?”_ Anders’ could feel Justice’s excitement at the prospect.

“What do you want to show me?” He asked cautiously.

_“I want you to see her like I see her.”_

“She looks different to you? Are we speaking metaphorically?” It was an odd statement.

_“Just let me show you.”_

Anders didn’t fight it when he felt a slight tingle behind his eyes. He blinked once and gasped, completely shocked. He could see the ribbons of magic; of energy or whatever they were flowing between him and Sekhmet. But the realization that Justice had known what was happening between him and Sekhmet wasn’t the surprising part.

The surprising part was Sekhmet herself. She was…magnificent, incredible beyond words. He felt struck dumb at the breathtaking beauty of her. All around her were shifting patterns of color, an entire range of blue and green, deep purples and shocking reds in a few places. It was like sliding plates of stained glass. She looked like an artist’s masterpiece. 

“Justice, what is that?”

_“You won’t like the answer.”_

“Tell me.”

_“It’s her pain. All of it, that which she always carries with her and the new pain she’s sorting through from…him.”_

Justice didn’t even want to say his name? “And the red?”

_“Think of them as scars that never fully heal.”_

“Do we look like that?”

_“A little, but she’s more complex, more complicated. She has so many more layers.”_

Anders shook his head. “I almost feel ashamed that we find it so breathtaking.”

_“But we cannot help what we feel. It is beautiful and heartbreaking to look at, but she is strong, so very strong.”_

“You sound like you admire her.”

_“I suppose I do a bit.”_

“Do you love her Justice?” Maybe it was foolhardy to ask, but he knew the spirit wouldn’t lie to him. And after seeing her like this he imagined it would be hard not to fall in love with her.

 _“No.”_ Simple, concise and to the point.

“Okay, I think that’s enough. A man could go mad looking at such a thing for too long.” The colors around her faded, but Anders knew he’d always remember her like that. The most beautiful tapestry, all spelled out in colors of unspeakable pain, but indescribably sublime.

Anders closed his eyes and held her while she slept content just to be with her. Their world might fall apart in a few hours, but for now they had this, a bit of cuddling and contentment before the next storm swept in.


	67. The Past Haunts Us-Part 3

She woke with a jerk, startling Anders. Startled herself if she was honest. “We have to go back downstairs. We have to hear what they came for.”

Anders stretched a little. “Alright, then let’s get up.”

Sekhmet followed Anders out of bed and quickly ran her fingers through her hair to make herself at least somewhat presentable. She still felt the sadness and regret from the vision, or whatever it was, that Trelain had shown her. But, it felt manageable now. Telling herself the emotions weren’t hers to carry actually seemed to be helping some. 

Anders slipped his arms around her, his fingers splaying across her abdomen. She let him tug her back against him and didn’t complain when he checked the baby over. It had been an eventful day so far, and she was surprised he hadn’t insisted on checking the baby sooner.

The magic skated over her skin, seeping inside her, it comforted her. The feel of his magic made her feel safe, feel loved. She wondered briefly in their child could feel how much Anders loved it already? She hoped so.

He kissed the top of her head, “Everything’s right as rain,” he murmured as the sapphire glow around his hands faded, leaving a vague sense of loss in its wake.

She stepped out of his embrace and slipped her fingers between his, “Ready?”

“As ready as I’m likely to get.” But he looked nervous.

“I love you.” It was all she could think of to say.

He caressed her cheek with his free hand, “I know. I love you, too.”

They walked down the steps and back into the library. She wanted to say she was surprised that they were still there, but she wasn’t. Trelain was actually looking at the door as they came through s if he had been expecting them. Sareyna shifted and put down the book she was reading.

Anders hesitated but Sekhmet tugged him gently into the room to sit down on the small sofa. He settled, nestled himself tight against her. She twined her fingers tighter with Anders’. She needed the extra support as much as he did. Her, because part of her still wanted to strangle the Old God parading as a child in front of her. And Anders, because he was afraid of having their lives turned upside down. 

She thought Anders of all people would be used to that by now. What she knew of his life had been nothing but a series of gut wrenching flips. Then again, maybe it was why he was dreading it so much.

She sighed a little, feeling tired but she wasn’t terribly worried about what might be coming. “Shall we continue?”

Trelain shifted forward in his seat, “I wanted to apologize, I could have perhaps handled this better.” 

She nodded; she didn’t know what he expected her to say. 

The boy began to glow faintly, a hazy ring of burgundy that covered him from head to toe. “The world is on the precipice of change.”

Sekhmet felt Anders tremble beside her. She knew exactly how he felt. The boy sounded eerily like Flemeth.

And his magic…she’d caught a faint wisp of it the other night when he was using it to hold her in place. But, now it was much more concentrated. She didn’t like the smell of it, like something dead and rotting, with a faint smell of forest. What was it?

It brushed against her skin, barely a touch and she was surprised again that it didn’t feel fetid at all. It was a crisp feeling, like biting into an apple or the feel of a fall evening. It was even a slightly pleasant feeling. The bizarre contradiction left her feeling slightly confused.

“And I know the witch told you that when the moment comes to leap.” He shook his head sadly. “She filled your head with ideas of flying, of breaking the constraints of this world. That’s not to be your fate. She set you on a path, a path colliding and bonding with each other, not really understanding what she was unleashing.”

“The six of you are the foundation, the anchor. You’ll be among the first swallowed up by the coming events.” The boy’s brow furrowed, “And three of you will never truly break the constraints of this realm.”

Was he supposed to be prophesying? It all sounded like vague garbage to her. A sentiment that seemed to be echoed by both Anders and ‘Reyna, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by.

“Trelain, you’ve been asking me for years to bring you here. To Anders and his da’vehnen. You’re going to have to explain a little bit better than this. You’re not making a lot of sense.” Sareyna was scowling.

Trelain pushed his fingers back through his short blonde hair then picked up a sheaf of papers on the floor next to him that Sekhmet hadn’t seen before. He shook his head, brow furrowed, “Sometimes it gets jumbled inside, so much information old and new swimming inside my head.”

Sareyna looked at Anders, “He became almost desperate these last few months, begging me to bring him here, to the two of you. When he first started asking to come to Kirkwall he wouldn’t tell me why. And when he finally did, I didn’t believe him. He said he needed to see you, but as far as we knew you were dead.”

A soft smile touched the tall woman’s lips, “And then Alistair saw you, here in Kirkwall. Told me about the fierce white haired woman who protected you, who clearly cared for you. I was stunned.”

“I didn’t know her name, just the little lioness.” Trelain added.

“Yes, he called her Anders’ little white lioness.”

Anders gasped slightly, and when Sekhmet looked to him he’d visibly blanched. “Anders?”

He took a deep breath and touched her cheek, “That’s what I call you, in Tevene, ‘my little lioness’.” He smiled, “Been calling you that even before we…” He shrugged a little, “I always knew we were meant to be together whether I admitted it or not.”

Sekhmet scowled, curious where Trelain was headed with this business. “Your nephew apparently disagrees.” 

“Not exactly. There’s no doubt you’re soul mates. But, soul mates aren’t always a good thing. At least not for the rest of the world. And the two of you…you feed each other.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Anders had stiffened beside her. Sekhmet was pretty sure she knew exactly what Trelain meant.

“We’re getting off topic again.” Trelain admonished. “The Blight shouldn’t have happened when it did, and because it happened before it should have it set off a series of events that never should have happened.”

“Including Anders and I meeting.” She wasn’t terribly thrilled by the idea.

“Yes, and many other things.” The kid look agitated, tugging absently at his short hair, shifting the parchment on his lap.

She prompted him to get him talking again, “Like?”

He looked up at her, his eyes seemed almost glazed over. His fingers glided over the stack of parchment on his lap, like he was somehow reading it with his fingers.

When he didn’t start talking Sareyna did it for him. “Like Rendon Howe killing my family and me becoming a Warden. Alistair and I were never supposed to meet either, it seems.”

Sekhmet had nearly forgotten that Sareyna had lost most of her own family before the Blight. She wondered if Sareyna would have traded meeting Alistair if it meant she got to keep her family. She looked at Anders and wasn’t sure if she would have traded Anders for Carver and immediately felt a pang of guilt. No wonder Carver had hated her; she really was a terrible sister.

Trelain nodded, seeming to come back to himself finally and he picked up the story, “Maric was not supposed to return to Ferelden. And Justice wasn’t supposed to wind up possessing Kristof’s body.” He looked at Anders, “You and he should never have met, let alone joined as you have.” 

Anders furrowed his brow, “Where does Zev factor into all of this.”

Sareyna laughed but it sounded brittle, “Oh, he and I would have met. He would have been contracted to kill me by Howe for refusing to marry his son, Tomas instead of by Loghain because I was a Warden.”

“And Alistair?” Anders was watching Sareyna closely.

“He would have met Alistair as well, hired by Loghain to take out Maric’s heirs. He would have killed Cailan because of his proposed alliance with Empress Celene. Not sure if we ever told you, but Cailan was going to put aside Anora for being barren. And he and Celene had already arranged an alliance through marriage. Alistair would have been killed to ensure that Anora stayed on the throne. Zev would have succeeded with all of us, but still would have died from wounds inflicted by Alistair.”

“Loghain and Anora shouldn’t have died.” Trelain interjected.

“They’re dead?” Anders sat forward unexpectedly.

Sareyna nodded, “Zev…dealt with it a few years ago.

Anders nodded, clearly approving. And Sekhmet was damned happy Loghain was dead. She hoped it was a long and painful death, but thought it would be impolite to ask just now.

“And I would have been killed by the Templars.” Anders sighed.

“No, actually.” Trelain seemed agitated again, although this time is seemed more like a sadness then confusion. “You still would have been a Grey Warden. You were always meant to be a hero, uncle.” Reluctantly, he continued. “But Rolan would have killed you. He would have told the Commander you had become an abomination, even though it wasn’t true.”

Anders chuckled darkly. “Well some things not even a Blight can change apparently.”

“I can’t believe Duncan would have let that happen.” Sareyna looked angry.

“Duncan would have left for his Calling before Anders even became a Warden, mother.” 

Sekhmet was hearing about the fate of a lot of people. Most of whom she didn’t know, and she was getting impatient. “And me?”

“You would have returned home when you heard of a young mage woman being pursued by the Templars. By the time you arrived there would have been Templars from the Circle and several Chantrys trying to chase your family down. A veritable army of mage hunters.”

Sekhmet shifted in her seat, tears threatening to fall. She knew the end of the tale without having to hear it. That many Templars, there was only one possible outcome.

“Your mother was dead by the time you reached them. You and Carver fought and died side by side holding the Templars off long enough for Bethany to escape.”

She looked up, “Bethany escaped?”

He nodded. “She fled and joined the Wardens. She would have met Anders, shortly before he died. But, he would have had a huge impact on her life. In fact, it would have been Anders’ death that triggered her calling upon a spirit of the Fade she had met before. A spirit that would help her destroy the injustice of the Templars.”

Anders gripped Sekhmet’s hand tight. “Bethany would have been possessed by Justice?”

Trelain nodded, “She would have begged him to help her. He would have sensed her pain, seen it and responded. She would have sought justice for Anders’ death, first with Rolan and then the Commander. She would have started a crusade to get rid of the Templars, eventually triggering a war between mages and Templars.”

“Oh Maker, poor Beth.” Anders looked miserable.

“Anders, that will never happen. Justice is with you.” Sekhmet was worried; Anders looked so heartbroken, almost like he still thought any of this was still a possibility. He nodded, but didn’t seem pacified.

Sekhmet turned to Trelain, “So, someone was willing to sacrifice all the people that died during the Blight to spare the five of us? Why?” That was the question he didn’t seem to be answering. What did all the “what if”s matter? It was too late and they would never happen now.

“Not five, six.” Trelain corrected, “Anders and Justice merging are part of why things will unfold in the way that they will. And they are the reason we’re here.”

“What are you talking about?” Anders asked.

“He seems to think there is some way to separate you and Justice.” Sekhmet answered, not sure Trelain would give him a straight answer.

Trelain looked at Anders carefully. “Do you know what they call you, uncle? The Templars in this city?”

“Apostate, Maleficar, what does it matter?” Anders scowled, clearly confused by the sudden shift in the boy.

“The Raven.” Trelain settled back more fully into his seat. “They are so terrified of you, the mage with golden hair wearing black armor, that they’ve named you after an animal thought to guide the dead to the afterlife.”

Anders shifted uncomfortably but his face didn’t show any emotion. But she could feel a slight echo of emotion surging through him. He was upset, but only for a moment. He was pleased; he apparently liked the idea of having a title of his own. Not that it surprised her that the Templar’s fear tickled him.

As for her, she was rather amused. “The White Lion and the Raven, maybe we should start our own menagerie.”

The corner of Anders’ mouth turned up, just a little. “We’re in good company at least.” He looked at Sareyna, “Didn’t they use to call you the Dark Wolf?”

Sekhmet watched as Sareyna reluctantly smiled, “You know, the Crows call Zevran the Golden Serpent.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “Seems only Alistair needs a name and our little menagerie is complete.”

Anders snorted, “He can be a bear, don’t you think?”

Sareyna giggled and nodded.

Trelain didn’t speak. He let them work through their laughter. Perhaps he sensed they were all at the end of their nerves and needed at least a brief emotional release. Or maybe he just didn’t understand their dark humor. Whichever it was, he waited patiently for them to calm themselves again.

It was actually Anders who brought the conversation back around to the current situation. “Do you know why Justice reacted to you so strangely when you first got here? Even now, he seems torn between recoiling from you and wanting to take control.”

“He knows what I am; most creatures of the Fade are uncomfortable in my presence.” Trelain paused for a moment, “And I know what he has become.” Trelain’s voice was resonate and especially eerie because it came from a boy. “He can hear me, can he not? Justice?”

********

“Yes, he can hear, we’re the same so talking to me is the same as speaking with him.” Anders scowled, how could Trelain not realize that?

“Actually, your consciousnesses seem to still be separate. If you were truly merged as you say then you would not be able to distinguish a difference between when you are you and when he takes control of your body. In fact, there would be no taking control, no struggle even.” 

Trelain sat there staring at him with his wide violet eyes, so much like Sareyna’s in appearance but there was no warmth to them. It was easy at this age to see that he could not possibly be Alistair and Sareyna’s son. No matter what their life had been Anders would have a hard time believing a son of theirs would end up so detached, so seemingly cold. 

‘Reyna was one of the most passionate women he had ever known. All of her emotions ran deep. And Alistair, even after all the darkness they had gone through during the Blight and after, even after leaving the Keep and living on the road, and even after rejoining the Wardens without ‘Reyna his eyes were still warm and kind. 

No the child across from him had Sareyna’s coloring and Alistair’s hair but he might as well have been born of a horse for all he had in common with his parents. And yet, seeing ‘Reyna here with him made Anders ache all the more for the pending arrival of his own child. The boy that grew in Sekhmet’s womb was precious to Anders beyond measure.

He hadn’t told her that yet. She said she didn’t want to know until it was born. Sometimes it felt like not telling her was killing him. The whole idea of having a child was just so incredible.

Anders had been doing his best to ignore anything that might remind him that having a child was a ludicrous idea. It was hard to do with the proof directly before him. Trelain was a powerful reminder that Wardens couldn’t have children, and even if they could they shouldn’t. The life of a Warden was short and violent, as was the life of an apostate, nevermind a possessed Warden apostate.

He felt Justice push at him again; closing his eyes he took a deep breath. Justice was growing angry with Anders’ cycling emotions about Sekhmet’s pregnancy. Anders took a deep breath. Justice was right; the time for such concerns was past. A child was coming whether it was a good idea or not, a child Anders desperately wanted.

As for Trelain, arguing about the extent to which he and Justice were one was a discussion Anders was sick to death of. And a subject that also riled Justice, not that the spirit needed any help where Trelain was concerned. Anders closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, Justice’s anger was giving him a headache. 

Sekhmet must have noticed his struggle because she reached across his lap and took his other hand in hers giving it a reassuring squeeze. Opening his eyes he looked down to see his long fingers all but engulfing her much smaller, paler hand. It always took him by surprise at moments like this, how small she was compared to him. Being around her so much it was something he did not contemplate often, but seeing his hand swallow hers brought the point home and he had to fight his own urge to protect her.

She hated it when he treated her like she was fragile because of her size. Instead of dwelling on her small hand he turned to look at her, the library was dark and even in the darkness her bright white hair all but glowed. Releasing her shoulders for a moment he stroked her hair, she had left it unpinned for him. 

He enjoyed seeing the white tresses framing the pale skin of her face; it emphasized the purple of her tattoo. He let himself marvel for a moment at all the things she was willing to do for him, an ocean of minutia that made him happy. What he really wanted right now was to pull her into his lap so he could hold her. 

What he wanted more than anything just at the moment was to feel her curled up against his chest, to stroke and smell her hair, to be alone with her. He had no desire to speak with Trelain, no desire to hear what the child had to say. But he could feel the boy’s wide violet eyes on him. 

And he could feel the boy’s mother sitting in the chair beside him trying to act as if this was all just a nice visit between friends, instead of what it really was. And whatever it was Anders suddenly didn’t want to know, and Justice really didn’t want to know. Justice just wanted the odd not-boy out of their home and their lives.

Although having the boy’s eerie eyes on him made him feel a little uncomfortable, it was better than having the child’s gaze on Sekhmet. Each time Trelain looked at her Justice snarled in his head and Anders had to struggle to hold the spirit in check. And each time he closed his eyes or winced from the effort he could see ‘Reyna tense in her chair. Anders was grateful for Sekhmet beside him; it calmed him to know that Justice didn’t scare her even at his worse. It made him feel more stable, more anchored, gave him the strength he needed to maintain control.

“Justice is clearly different than he was at the Keep.” The eerie voice issuing forth from the boy’s mouth again.

Anders dropped his gaze; looking to the floor, his voice when he answered was barely audible. “Yes.”

“Why do you blame yourself for the change?” Trelain seemed to be watching him curiously.

Looking up he pinned Trelain with his gaze. “You obviously already know.” He hadn’t meant for it to be an angry snarl but Justice’s anger was beginning to boil over, to slip through.

Trelain didn’t react to his anger, “You cannot make him into a demon, Anders.”

“I never said he was a damned demon.” Anders growled, yes he had feared he’d warped Justice into a demon many times, but he couldn’t really believe it.

Trelain raised a brow, the first real expression he had made. “You fear he’s as much demon as he is Fade spirit, do you not?”

It was the truth; he’d often thought Justice was at least part demon now. And worse than that he feared he had been the one to warp Justice, made him into a being of uncontrollable rage. But, Sekhmet had soothed his fear of Justice being an out and out demon. How could he be so gentle with her if he was a demon?

Trelain remained silent as Anders pulled himself together, deep breaths to calm himself and to try to stave off the nausea. “Is there a way to fix it, a way to make him as he was?”

“Only Justice can change what he is, it was his desire for vengeance against those who hurt you that changed him, nothing else.”

“If I didn’t have so much anger, if I had refused to merge with him, if I…” Anders quieted when Sekhmet released his hand and brushed her fingers lightly over his lips.

“Shh, love you’re just upsetting yourself.”

Anders pulled her fingers away, “Stop placating me.” Sekhmet winced and he regretted his harsh tone, doubly so when Justice snarled at him. 

Sareyna’s voice rang across the room, sharp and irritated, “It’s all in the past, you need to move past it. There are more important things than who or what caused Justice to change.”

“Easy for you to say ‘Reyna.” How was he supposed to “move past” what he had done to Justice when he had to live with the spirit everyday, for the rest of his life?

‘Reyna stood up, her body was rigid and her fists clenched at her sides. “Don’t you dare Anders.” She was standing right above him glaring down as she continued. “After all the things I’ve done to the people I love, sentencing them all to a life of violence and an early death, tearing them from their homes, forcing them to live on the run in fear for their lives, don’t you dare try to act like you’re the only one who’s made mistakes. We’ve all made mistakes and because of them people get hurt.”

Anders lowered his gaze, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Seeing them now, snapping at each other, it was hard to imagine they had once been so close.

Was it just the years apart that made them feel so awkward around each other? Or maybe it was her years of isolation and his merging with Justice. He wished that they could learn to traverse the waters between them. He desperately missed ‘Reyna’s friendship. But, he had a feeling they would be leaving before that happened.

Sareyna stared at him hard for another long minute before her features softened, “I’m sorry, Anders.” She sighed softly, the sound conveying just how soul weary she was. She stepped back and settled back into the chair, the look on her face almost wistful. Did she miss their friendship too?

Trelain spoke up again, “I think you both misunderstand Anders’ situation. Fade spirits or even demons cannot be changed by external forces. Whatever they are, whatever they become it is a choice on their part. They are part of the Fade; they create worlds with their thoughts.”

“That’s just in the Fade though, they can’t change the mortal realm with mere thoughts.” Anders countered.

“They can still change themselves with thoughts. They are creating what they are with every moment and every thought.” Trelain was clearly getting exasperated with them.

“Then, by that measure, because we’re bonded my thoughts help to create who and what he is.” Anders retorted.

“But, you’re not bonded, not really. You’re like two people living in the same house.” Trelain stood and started pacing. “Because the two of you fight so hard to remain individuals you have not truly integrated together. You have not scratched the surface of what you are, what you can accomplish, what you are truly capable of. But,” he turned and looked at Anders, “Someday you will stop fighting, and you will bond. And when you do, when you learn the scope of what you can do the world will change. We need to stop this now. And we can do it by separating you and Justice completely.”

Anders stood up, panic sweeping over him. “No, absolutely not. You just said he had changed and I know better than anyone the anger he feels. I would not turn him loose onto the world like this. You’re mad.”

Trelain cocked his head, studying Anders face. “Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps Justice is not changed as much as you fear?”

This conversation was getting them nowhere, or at least that’s what it felt like to Anders. He wasn’t about to unleash Justice’s fury unchecked onto the world. “What are you talking about?”

“Justice saw an injustice in the Fade, the villagers of Black Marsh being enslaved and used by the Countess and to rectify the situation he sought to kill the Countess. He saw the injustice of the Darkspawn, slaughtering and tainting innocents and to rectify the situation he sought to kill the Darkspawn. And then he saw the injustice of the Templars, locking up mages, enslaving them as the villagers had been enslaved and now he seeks to kill Templars.” Trelain moved closer until he was scant inches from Anders’ face. “So just what, dear uncle, have you changed about him?”

Anders didn’t know what to say. He’d never thought about it that way. Could it really be that Anders didn’t change Justice? 

Justice had retreated during the little diatribe and Anders could barely feel him. Was the spirit experiencing shame? Had Trelain hit upon a nerve?

And then Anders remembered Justice from the Wardens. He’d been so clinical, so detached. He hadn’t looked forward to killing, hadn’t relished the feeling after slaying one of his foes.

“I gave him anger and fury, I gave him pride. I taught him vengeance.” Anders’ voice cracked on the last word. It was the truth that was how Anders saw Justice now. There was the calm Justice that could be reasoned with. And then there was the spirit lost to Vengeance.

Trelain stepped back and settled back into his chair. “But those are feelings, not thoughts. And only thoughts can change a spirit.”

“What are you saying, and what is the point of any of this?” Anders was losing his patience. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be discussing Justice. He closed his eyes briefly. What he really wanted was to run away, take Sekhmet and just disappear. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. With some effort he thought about what Sekhmet had said. Wanting to run isn’t the same as running. Another deep breath and he opened his eyes to see Trelain patiently watching him.

“I can help you and Justice separate. And in so doing we might avoid what is coming.”

Anders looked to Sekhmet then back to Trelain, “And just what is it that’s coming?”

“Change, the whole world turned upside down, chaos, war.” 

“All because Justice and I are…” he didn’t want to concede anything to Trelain, but maybe he was right, at least about them not being completely merged, “both in this body?”

“That’s part of it, a piece of the whole we can take out and perhaps make everything else fall out of place.” Trelain looked eager now, maybe too eager.

Anders wondered if Trelain was purposely hiding what was going to happen, or if he truly didn’t know. “That’s still pretty vague, Trelain.”

Trelain shrugged, “I can give you no more.” He waited a few beats before adding, “Do you want to spend your life fighting with him for control of your body?”

Sekhmet suddenly sat forward. “But he won’t. You already said Anders can learn to live in harmony with Justice.”

Reluctantly, Trelain nodded. “It is true. They need not fight for control but can truly become one, but both have to be willing and want it. And it’s not something they’ll ever accomplish in Kirkwall.”

Anders scowled, “Why would we want that? I don’t want to be someone else.”

Trelain shook his head, and mumbled, “I always say too much, century after century and I still haven’t learned how to keep my mouth shut.” He looked up at them, “I do not know how to explain it to you but you will still be Anders but Justice as well, it will add not take anything away.” The boy sighed, “This is more difficult than I expected.”

He would be himself, plus Justice? How would that work? How would their personalities even blend, they were so different.

Trelain turned to focus on Sekhmet, “What I am saying is if they chose to truly merge there would only be one personality. That personality would have all of Anders’ memories as well as all of Justice’s. They would have all of Anders’ abilities as well as all of Justice’s. Does that make more sense?”

Sekhmet smiled a little, “Yes, I think I understand. But, what did you mean it could never happen in Kirkwall.”

“The Veil here, in the city; it is very thin, especially below the city. Having the Veil so thin means it is easier for the Fade to leak through.”

Sekhmet’s eyes went a little wide, “That’s why he struggles to control Justice. In the Fade Justice takes over and if the Fade bleeds through it might be what makes it harder for Anders to exert himself over Justice.”

Anders watched Sekhmet converse with Trelain. He was glad someone understood what the strange boy was saying. He marveled again at Sekhmet’s mind, at how she could catch the most intangible of ideas. Her mind was playful, her thought process creative. He always admired that.

And, she knew how his mind worked. He had no doubt she would find a way to explain it to him so that he could understand it. Though, to be honest he wasn’t sure he wanted to “blend” with Justice anymore than he wanted to unleash him on the world.

Trelain smiled, “Yes, it is also why you have so many blood mages in this city. I am not sure how Anders is unaware that the Veil is so thin, unless being bound to a Fade spirit makes it harder for him to notice.”

Sekhmet shuddered, her hand unconsciously touching her abdomen, “This is all very strange.” She turned to Anders, “Could living in Kirkwall hurt the baby?”

Anders had no answer for her. He truly didn’t know. And, he was still reeling from the fact that the Veil was apparently thin in Kirkwall and he’d never noticed. 

“It shouldn’t hurt the child, so long as you steer clear of blood mages and demons.” Trelain shifted in his chair, “But, if you decide to leave, let me help you with Justice, first.”

“That’s not something I’m willing to do without doing some serious thinking first.” Anders wasn’t even sure if he could really be separated from Justice. He supposed if anyone could manage it, Trelain could.

Trelain didn’t look pleased, but Anders had to make sure he was making the best decision for everyone involved. He was a married man, and soon to be a father. And from the look on her face Sekhmet clearly had some ideas on the subject.

“I do not suggest this casually, uncle.”

“Trelain, he said he needed to think about it.” Sareyna admonished.

“Yes, mother,” Trelain pouted, suddenly looking very much like a petulant child.

‘Reyna pushed to her feet. “I think I’d like to wander around the city for a while, if you don’t mind. Maybe get some air. Come keep me company, Trelain.”

Sekhmet snorted beside Anders. “Nice of her to give us some privacy for this.”

“Would you be terribly angry with me if I had some brandy?” He tried not to drink since he’d asked her to stop, but he could really use one about now.

“No, go ahead.” She stood up and stretched. 

“Need me to rub something for you, my love?” He wasn’t trying to smother her, but he didn’t want her hurting either.

She smirked at him, “Not with company in the other room.”

“They’ll be gone soon enough.” He stood up and kissed her softly.

She pushed him playfully, “Go get your drink.”

He stepped back trying to stop grinning. “Very well my love.” He headed towards the kitchen. There was some good Antivan brandy in the pantry. 

_“So, you are ready to give up on the cause of mages completely?”_ Justice’s voice grated in his head. The spirit was clearly upset.

He’d been waiting for Justice to pipe up with an opinion about the possibility of them separating. “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

_“I already agreed to wait until after the baby was born before pursuing freedom for mages. If you are no longer committed to our cause perhaps it is best that we are parted. Then I can find someone more interested in my assistance and the cause of mages.”_

“Someone like Bethany?” Anders wasn’t about to let that happen. She’d had enough tough breaks in her life already. The last thing she needed was to be possessed on top of being separated from her family and forced into being a Warden.

Justice didn’t respond but for some reason Anders got a feeling of satisfaction from the spirit. Satisfaction about what though? Could Justice be trying to manipulate him? Did that mean he wanted to stay with Anders? But if he was worried about Anders no longer being committed why would he want to stay?

He paused pouring the brandy. That was a stupid question wasn’t it? Anders downed the brandy he’d already poured and poured himself another. He drank that one just as quickly, not taking the time to savor it as he usually did, and put the bottle back before he decided to empty it.

He took a deep breath and headed back to the library. Sekhmet had climbed the stairs and was looking out the window up there. He joined her, slipping his arms around her. It felt good to hold her.

“So, thoughts?” She asked mildly.

“I’d rather hear your thoughts.” He was pretty sure it didn’t matter what they chose to do at this point, but was still curious about what she wanted.

She shrugged, “I’ve only known you like this. So, I’m not sure what insight I could give.”

“But, what do you want?” He prompted.

“Nothing you do is going to change how I feel about you. Although, I might miss those pretty blue eyes.” She giggled.

Anders chuckled in spite of himself. She could always lighten his mood. “And if I decide not to have us separated?”

She turned in his arms, “What are you afraid of Anders? I fell in love with you when you were possessed, why would that change?”

“Because I had the chance to change it and didn’t take it.” He surprised himself when it came out as a whisper. The thought of losing her, it tore at him, like his soul was being ravaged by wild beasts.

“I only ask that you be true to yourself, whatever that means. I’ll still love you, no matter what you decide.” She stood up on her toes and kissed his gently.

“And what about the baby? Do you really want it to have a possessed father?” His voice sounded strange to him, his throat was tight with emotion.

She smiled, “The baby was sired by a possessed father. I never expected that to change.”

“But would you change it if you could? Wouldn’t you rather have our child raised by two normal parents?”

She laughed, not softly and gently, a full out laugh. “Oh darling, this child was never meant for normal parents. If it was we wouldn’t have been its parents. We’re the lunatics who braved the Deep Roads to find our fortunes. You’re an apostate, escaped from the Circle to join the Wardens, a possessed mage who fights for mage freedom. You’re a healer who administers to the poor and needy for free, even knowing it puts yourself in danger. And I’m the Champion of Kirkwall, the woman who defeated the Arishok in single combat. We have a bizarre bond that even an Old God has only heard rumor of.”

He pulled her tight and kissed her. She had a way of simplifying things, of making them much clearer. “You really are amazing.”

“I know. Now we just have to tell Trelain. I’m guessing he’s not going to take it very well.” She stepped out of his embrace, “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll go make you a sandwich.” He started to turn away then stopped, “Why do I have the feeling that you knew what I was going to do?” Did she really know him that well?

She shrugged, “He raised the possibility that Justice might someday possess Bethany. You think Justice is your responsibility, you’d never agree to be parted if you were concerned he might possess someone else.” 

It seems she really did know him that well. With a smile, he left the library to make her a sandwich. He brought it back and the two of them enjoyed a calm afternoon together. Even Justice stayed quiet, letting the two of them enjoy themselves.

And when ‘Reyna and Trelain returned Anders told them of his decision. ‘Reyna seemed surprised but not upset. Trelain on the other hand was clearly upset.

“This isn’t just about you, Anders. The whole of Thedas is at risk.” He pleaded.

“Perhaps it is, I’m not even sure whether I believe that or not. What I do know, is that this is the right decision for me and my family.” Anders wondered if that would even mean anything to Trelain. Yes, he called ‘Reyna and Alistair his parents, but did it mean the same to him?

“I had really hoped you would be reasonable about this.” Trelain lamented.

“I am being reasonable. And, if the reason behind wanting Justice and I to separate is because you want him to leave, then you’re not going to get what you want no matter what.” Anders wondered if Justice’s feelings had ever factored into Trelain’s plans.

“We separate you and he returns to the Fade. You’re both free.” Trelain almost sounded condescending.

Sekhmet stepped forward, getting between them. “Except, Justice doesn’t want to leave.” 

Trelain’s features didn’t move, but his voice sounded shocked. “What do you mean he doesn’t want to leave?”

‘Reyna shook her head and snorted. “Trelain, Justice doesn’t want to leave her. Lest you forget, he was the one that was so displeased with you touching her.” She moved a little closer to Anders looking into his eyes. “Should have seen that one coming, he was always so fascinated with Kristoff’s relationship to Aura.” Her head canted a little to the side, “Will he talk to me? Can he talk to me?”

Anders was about to tell her Justice had been quiet for hours when he felt a gentle push from Justice. He glanced briefly to Sekhmet who nodded that she understood, and then Anders did his best to relinquish control of his body. 

********

Justice could feel the tension in Anders’ body. The mage was afraid he’d stir up trouble or cause a scene. He tried to reassure Anders, but the mage was hesitant to believe him after he’d nearly attacked Urthemiel when he’d touched Sekhmet. 

Abandoning the idea he could quell Anders’ fears he turned his attention to their present company. “Commander,” he said by way of greeting. “You wished to speak with me?”

Her hand reached out for him but stopped short. “Does it hurt Anders when you do this?” She gestured to the cracks all over Anders’ body where the pale blue of Justice’s spirit fire shown through.

Justice was surprised, and grateful that the Commander was intuitive enough to realize he might not want to be touched. He’d learned to handle it a little better, but still was only really comfortable when Sekhmet touched him. He suppressed a shiver of pleasure, just at the idea. His thoughts were needed elsewhere. “No, he does not feel anything.” 

He still didn’t like Urthemiel being here. The Old Gods were dangerous, and this one doubly so. He was too interested in Sekhmet, and wanted something neither Justice nor Anders was willing to give him.

“Have you found what it was you were seeking all those times you spoke with Aura?” The Commander was being polite, but she also seemed genuinely interested.

“Perhaps, I am still discovering many things.” He had some sort of affection for Sekhmet, there was no denying that. But was it love? He was not ready to make such a determination. And had already told Anders he didn’t love the mage’s wife. He was fairly certain it hadn’t been a lie.

“So, Anders was right. You will not leave because of this woman.” Urthemiel was watching him curiously, but kept his distance.

“There are many reasons, but she and the child are among them, yes.” As for the rest of his reasons, they were none of the Old God’s business.

“ _And_ the child?” Urthemiel took a small step forward then stopped himself, “You are more changed than I supposed spirit.” Urthemiel turned and started pacing. “Yes, this couldn’t possibly work now. I’ll have to find another way.” He was talking out loud, but Justice had the feeling he wasn’t talking to him or anyone else in the room for that matter.

“Is life with Anders difficult?” It was the Commander again, concern in her eyes. 

Was that why she had wanted to speak with him? Was she worried about him? She had always done her best to be kind and understanding with him in the past. Was it possible she felt affection for him as she did for Anders? The idea seemed strange, but not without its appeal.

“It can be difficult for both of us at times. It gets easier with time.” He looked at Sekhmet suddenly feeling…what was the word for it? Shy, maybe? Embarrassed? “She has been a cause of a great many difficulties between us.”

“We both fought his affection for her. It… did not go well for either of us.” He felt himself smiling, uncharacteristically. The more he did it though, the more he enjoyed the simple act of animating Anders’ face to reflect his emotions. “She is a stubborn woman, and would not give up.”

The Commander smiled in return, “And what changed?”

At that shame flooded him, “I nearly killed her, but he,” Justice stopped, not sure how to put what he wanted to say into words for a moment. 

At last he just did the best he could. “Anders is a strong man. He saved her. But even a strong man has a breaking point. Almost losing her, on top of everything else he faced, was too much. He tried to fight it for a little while longer, but his heart had already given in.”

“That’s rather poetic of you, Justice.” The Commander wasn’t teasing him, just making an observation.

He nodded in acknowledgement, “A gift from Anders’ mind, no doubt.”

“And since he gave in?” She was watching him curiously, a faint smile touching her lips.

“I struggled with it for a while. Then, I started to realize she and I had much in common. She wanted to help with our cause. She soothes Anders’ pain.” 

“What about you? What does she do for you?”

He looked at Sekhmet, this woman that was not his, this woman who cared for him for no reason he could possibly discern. Whatever he felt for her it started with one very simple thing. “She is not afraid of me, not even when I am at my worst.”

The Commander shifted her attention to Sekhmet for the first time. “That’s either very brave or very stupid.”

“I prefer to think of it as optimistic.” Sekhmet retorted, which earned a laugh from the Commander.

When her laughter died down she looked at Sekhmet more earnestly, “I wish you luck. Loving two men isn’t for the faint hearted.”

Justice looked from the Commander to Sekhmet. Was she implying that Sekhmet loved him? Or, was she just acknowledging that it was a possibility? It was an interesting, and not altogether disagreeable idea.

Anders really did not like Justice’s train of thought and was trying to take back control. Fighting him on it would only make him more anxious. Justice addressed his former commander again, “Was that everything, Commander?”

She nodded, “Yes, thank you for indulging me Justice.”

Justice relinquished control back to Anders, happy to have a chance to contemplate the Commander’s statements. Anders talked the Commander into staying for another night. A ritual they went through several more times as the days went by.

Urthemiel and the Commander stayed for almost two weeks all told. The Commander seemed pleased by the opportunity to catch up with Anders. The two of them eventually became more at ease with each other, more like how Justice remembered from their days at the Keep. And though the Commander tried to mend the rift between her and Sekhmet she never quite succeeded. They forged a kind of truce, but Sekhmet was slow to trust again.

Still, they showed the Commander and Urthemiel the sights of the city. The Commander became quite fond of the Hanged Man and Varric was, predictably, thrilled to meet her. Urthemiel always seemed more than happy to remain at the estate going through the library while the Commander was out.

Her evenings at the tavern led to a chance meeting with Merrill. Apparently, Merrill had attended the Commander’s wedding. Something neither Anders nor Justice had been aware of. The two women had talked animatedly for hours.

Sekhmet might not care for the Commander, but she adored Pentheryn. She spoiled the dog as much as she spoiled Tyr. The estate was filled with sound, a good share of it laughter and joyous barks. Even the cats eventually came out of hiding, pleased to have more hands to pet them.

All in all it was a good visit, or at least Justice thought it was. He had become accustomed to Urthemiel’s presence while they stayed. Not that he enjoyed it, but he did not mind it quite as much as he had at first. He would even go so far as to say he was a little sad to see the Commander go when they finally left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I'm obsessed with the idea of Bethany!Justice. I won't write it, too many other fics. But if someone else writes it or has already written it let me know I'd love to read it.


	68. Chapter 68

These stone walls were going to drive her mad. She was currently residing in a semi self imposed exile from the rest of the city. After Sareyna and Trelain’s departure from the estate some weeks ago she had received another sudden influx of invitations. 

She had attended two of the gatherings, at Anders’ suggestion, and on his arm. The sudden renewed interest in the Champion of Kirkwall was rather more an interest in her recent visitors and her now visible pregnancy. Anders had dragged her cursing from the second party after one particularly bold patron asked Anders how much it would cost her to have him parade her around on his arm for an evening.

He’d been patient when she’d raged and thrown things around their room. And when she screamed that it was his fault he had only nodded and apologized which had infuriated her more. Was it strange to say she missed their fighting?

The remorse had settled in the next day, just in time for Anders to ask her to stop taking jobs because she no longer fit into her armor. And what was she supposed to say to that? If she argued it looked like she was willing to put their child in danger. And so, she had agreed.

Anders had been even more protective since Sareyna and Trelain had left. Trelain’s vague predictions still hung heavy over them both. It was hard to know what to do with such vagaries, but they both felt the need to be prepared, to be perhaps a touch more cautious. And what they both wanted to protect the most was their child. So, here she was, alone and painfully bored inside these quiet and presumably safe walls day after day.

At least Sebastian came to see her nearly everyday, as did Fenris. But, as much as she adored Sebastian’s company she couldn’t help but wonder what the gossips must think of his frequent visits, usually while Anders was at the clinic. She sighed, Anders had even taken that distraction from her worried she might catch something and risk the baby’s health. It all sounded so reasonable until she had to live with it.

She enjoyed Fenris’ visits the most. She was teaching him again and it made her feel useful for at least a few hours. He would ask her how she was feeling each day, but never asked about the pregnancy which was a relief. They spent so much time together they got to know each other quite well.

During the hours they worked together she developed a deep appreciation for his dry humor. She was just thankful he managed to pry himself from his own hermitage to visit her in hers. She knew he missed Isabela, but they didn’t discuss her. He’d been having nightmares and sometimes instead of working they talked about that. 

Nightmares were something she had more than a passing acquaintance with. She kept hers to herself, and he never asked. He had more than enough to deal with worrying about his own. 

Sekhmet thought maybe his dreams were memories corrupted and bastardized by his sleeping mind. Poor Fenris was terrified of the idea. The more time she spent with him the more it seemed to her that he wanted to forget his whole existence before coming to Kirkwall. And if his nightmares were any indication she couldn’t blame him.

Every so often he seemed to glean some glimmer of something. Not a memory precisely, but a feeling or a hint of a person. He was sure now that he did have a sister at one point, though he wasn’t sure that was still the case. Either way, he seemed hesitant to talk about it.

As nice as the visits were they never filled enough of the day. She was left with hours and hours and nothing to do. She tried to give Orana and Bodahn the day off as often in possible, but they only rarely let her. No doubt, Anders had a hand in that too.

She read until her eyes crossed. Then worked on her research until her hands cramped from holding the quill or the sitting drove her mad. As much as she adored the process she wasn’t used to life as an academic.

It always wound down to the same thing eventually, too much time and not enough to occupy her. She was not some noble lady raised to be pretty and useless. She needed something to do, something real and substantive.

But, at least she didn’t have Anders to keep occupied all day. She’d begged him so he would keep going to the clinic after he asked her to stay home. Otherwise the man hovered like a mother hen, it was positively aggravating. At least with him at the clinic he had something else to occupy his time and it gave her a little breathing room.

And, she’d found out the hard way that Anders had little snitches all over the city. It was the only explanation. Everytime she left the estate when he wasn’t there he always knew it. And unless she went to see Sebastian or Fenris, Anders inevitably showed up not too much later.

He wouldn’t ask her to leave or why she was there. He’d just stay and keep an eye on her. It was sweet that he worried, but also a little crazy. Anders just called it being cautious, because he knew her and her penchant to find trouble.

And maybe he was a little bit right about that. She did tend to find more trouble that most people. But it was also what was so infuriating about the whole situation. 

She couldn’t even get angry because he was right, or least during normal circumstances he was. Most of the local gangs and thugs stayed out of her way now. She didn’t know if it was because of her reputation, her title, or because she was pregnant.

She just needed something to do. So, she’d taken up cooking, of all things, as a way to combat the boredom. She’d learned a few basics from her mother, enough to take care of herself and put together a few simple meals, but there was always more to learn. First with Orana’s help, then Bodahn offered to teach her a few things as well. Now, she and Orana were working through a cookbook Sekhmet had found in the library. 

The recipes so far were hit and miss. Whether that was because of the recipes being bad or her cooking skills being quite terrible was anyone’s guess. She’d kept her cooking habits to herself until now, always letting Orana take credit for whatever concoction they’d come up with. 

Tonight, she’d made a recipe she’d tried a couple times before and was fairly confident with. The sun had set not long ago and she was expecting Anders to come home anytime now. She’d had the estate to herself for a while. Bodahn and the others had retired to their quarters early.

She sat down at the writing desk Anders normally used with a sigh. She could hardly believe this had become her life. She was sitting and waiting obediently for her husband to come home with dinner ready.

Tears threatened and her throat constricted. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Something dropped into her lap and she opened her eyes to see what it was. Tyr had dropped one of his balls into her lap.

She smiled and scratched behind his ears. This life wasn’t so bad. And once the baby was born Anders would relax. Given how unlikely it had been that he could even get her pregnant she couldn’t begrudge him his caution. And she knew he was right, there was no reason to unnecessarily put the baby at risk.

She tossed Tyr’s ball and he dutifully trotted to pick it up and brought it back. She bent and kissed his head, “Are you ready for this baby to get here, Tyr?”

He barked happily and laid his head in her lap, looking up at her with his big expressive eyes. 

“He’s going to be a lucky boy to have you as a big brother.” Anders hadn’t told her it was a boy, but she knew. She just felt like it was going to be a little boy. 

Was it wrong that she felt a great deal of pride about giving Anders a son? She was sure he’d be happy no matter what. Maybe it was just her mother speaking in her head telling her what every man really hopes for is a son. 

She tossed the ball for Tyr again, the urge to cry gone for now at least. She cried a lot more these days, usually tears of frustration. Anders had been sweet; telling her most pregnant women struggled with mood swings and emotional outbursts. Somehow, it didn’t make her feel better.

She relaxed back in the chair and played fetch with her dog, content, at least for now. She’d made it through another day without losing her mind completely, and that was reason enough to be happy. And, she should get in as much time with Tyr as she could. In a few months the baby would take up most of her days and nights.

******** 

Anders couldn’t help but smile when he opened the door to the estate. Sekhmet was sitting down in the chair at the writing desk throwing Tyr’s ball for him to fetch. The lavender dress looked good on her. He was still getting used to seeing her wearing dresses. It always seemed a pleasant surprise and a nice reminder.

She was about twenty six weeks along and he couldn’t be happier. He was going to have a family, a real family of his own. As she had started to grow and her belly had started to show Justice had become very quiet, with the notable exception of Sareyna’s visit. Mostly Anders just got feelings of awe from the spirit when Anders stroked and kissed her growing belly.

Adjusting to her new quieter life had been difficult for Sekhmet but she finally seemed to be settling into it. Anders had asked that she stop her exploits when her armor had started to become too tight. He would have asked it sooner if he thought she would listen. 

She rose when she saw him and met him halfway across the room with a smile. “How was the clinic?”

A part of him really enjoyed the life they were living now, even though he knew it wouldn’t last. It was a nice fantasy to visit. And when it was gone, at least he’d always have these memories, that once upon a time he’d lived a normal life, or as close to normal as he could ever manage. And it had been truly glorious.

And this was a good evening, there were nights he came home and Sekhmet was agitated or in tears. For the most part, from what he could feel, she was calm tonight. “Slow again. I’m wondering if maybe I should just stay home with you.”

Sekhmet laughed quietly, “You would be restless, wondering if there was someone you could be helping.”

He kissed her nose softly, “Like you do all day?”

He let his bag slide to the floor and wrapped his arms around her picking her up and buried his nose in her neck. She was warm, her skin soft and velvety and her smell reminded him of storms as it always did. Even sitting sedately in this big estate all day there was still a wildness to her, something unrestrained and untamable. He kissed her gently, just soft little presses of his lips against her throat.

“I love you, Sekhmet.” He set her down and dropped to his knees feeling overwhelmed with his luck, a woman to love him just the way he was, and a child of his own. 

He kissed her growing belly through her dress and rested his head on it for a moment listening to the sounds of her body caring for their child. It was addictive, that sound. He never got enough of it. She stayed still and let him hold her that way, on his knees with his ear pressed to belly for a while but finally stepped back from him.

“Come before dinner gets cold.” She turned ready to head to the dining room.

Anders stood up feeling his stomach tighten. That wasn’t good, she hated cooking. “You made dinner?”

She paused and gave him a small smile, “I had the time. And it won’t be as bad as you think, I promise.”

Anders reached and stroked her cheek, “You hate this, don’t you?”   
Sometimes he thought they’d both be happier if he could carry the child. 

Her eyes teared up just a little, “I want a child Anders, I do. I didn’t lie. And it’s amazing to feel it grow inside me, but the boredom is killing me. I’m tied to this house, useless, domesticated, trapped.”

He had no idea how to help her. “Tell me what you need, what I can do to help.”

She gave him a sad little smile, “Nothing, I just need to make it through the next few months. I’ll be alright I promise.”

Anders’ heart ached, she had told him she didn’t want to be tied down, be domesticated and he had never stopped to consider that a child would do exactly that to her. And he should have, Sareyna had practically handed her newborn son off so she could have her own freedom. They had never really given much thought to how they would raise the child once it was born. They had concentrated so hard on just trying to get pregnant.

He followed her silently into the dining room and sat down for a mostly silent dinner. Afterwards they moved to the library. He sat on the floor, back against the wall and gestured for her to sit down as well. He held up his hand and helped her maneuver down to the floor and situated her so her head was in his lap. He unpinned her hair and ran his fingers through it for a moment before picking up the book they had been reading and began to read to her. 

Periodically, as he read his hand settled over her belly. He didn’t want Sekhmet to hate her life as a mother. After spending all that time watching Sareyna struggle with being a mother he didn’t want Sekhmet to have to struggle with that. 

He wondered how her parents had handled traveling with children for so long. There must have been fighting. “Have you been training at all?”

“Hmm?” Sekhmet seemed to have been almost dozing listening to him.

Anders smiled at her sleepy voice. She loved listening to him read but almost always fell asleep when he did. But, her being able to defend herself suddenly seemed incredibly important. “Have you been training?”

She scoffed, “In what? I don’t fit in my armor, or most of my clothes. Have you ever tried to fight in a full skirt?”

He chuckled, “Well no, but I used to fight in robes.”

“Not exactly the same, love.” She said sarcastically. “I have to actually move, not just waive my hands about.”

“I do not waive my hands about.” He protested.

She sat up and turned to look at him, “Yes, you do.”

Well, maybe he did, sometimes. But, that was more for flare than because he had to. And it was totally beside the point, “That’s not really the point. You should have something to fight in, if necessary. And you should keep training, even if we’re not taking jobs.”

“And who do you suppose is going to train with me looking like this?” She gestured to her abdomen.

He raised a brow, “You can’t sweet talk Sebastian into training with you?”

“Sure I can, as long as it’s with throwing knives or a bow. He told me already he absolutely refused to fight a pregnant woman.” She rolled her eyes.

Anders sighed, yeah, that sounded exactly like something the prince would say. “What about Fenris?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. I suppose I can ask. I’m not going to hold my breath; he seems a little creeped out by the whole pregnancy.”

“I could always go to the clinic a few hours later or come home a few hours earlier. I’d be happy to.” He wasn’t really happy about the idea, the last thing he wanted to do was spar with his pregnant wife. As it was he knew he would be going out of his mind thinking about her sparring with someone else. Accidents happen even with sparring.

“You don’t need to cut hours at the clinic.” She replied a touch too quickly.

He smirked, “You mean you don’t want me hanging over you for even more of the day?”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He shook his head, “No, you’re not. But it’s alright. Believe it or not I understand. I know I’m doing it, I just can’t seem to stop myself.”

She leaned forward and kissed him gently. “I still love you.”

He watched her for a moment, the brief kiss arousing him probably more than it should have. It was always like that with her. Just a look, a touch was enough to set his pulse racing and make him crave her. 

She smirked, “From that look, I’d venture to say you’re not thinking of sparring anymore.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m just trying to decide what kind of sparring I’m more interested in right now.” He took her hand and kissed her fingers. 

And looking down was all the convincing he needed to figure out what he was more interested in. He stood and carefully pulled her to her feet behind him. “Remember the armorer you got to make my leather armor? How fast could he get new armor done?”

She looked at him clearly surprised. He couldn’t blame her. He’d chosen to do something responsible over having sex. Maybe being a father was rubbing off on him already.

“You want to commission new armor for me?” 

He nodded, “Yes, in dragon hide; something that has expandable panels.” He headed towards his desk and pulled out some parchment and his charcoal, “Let me show you.”

********

She watched him as he sketched out several designs for her, explaining what he saw as the pros and cons of each. She gave him some ideas and nixed some others. Finally, she stopped him.

“Anders, what are we doing? I only have a few more months left. Is this really necessary?” It seemed like a waste.

He was quiet for a long minute. Shifting in the chair a few times he finally leaned back and looked at her. It was one of the more serious expressions she’d ever seen on his face. So, she knew whatever came next wasn’t said lightly.

“With our life, I think it’s a wise investment.” Another long pause, but he clearly wasn’t finished speaking. “And, this might not be your only occasion to wear it.”

“Are you saying you want more children, Anders?” 

“I’m saying, there’s a possibility that sometime in the future that you will have another reason to wear this kind of armor.” 

He said that, but that was longing in his eyes, plain and simple. Just how many children did her darling mage want? She wasn’t even sure she could handle one, let alone the idea of more. 

But, once again, he had a point. And, maybe if she got the armor he’d let her take small jobs again. That was something to hope for.

As if he sensed her hesitation he added, “And if Trelain is right, and something is coming, I’d rather that we were prepared. He didn’t seem to have any idea of when it might happen.”

“So, we believe him now?” She thought Anders doubted Trelain’s assertions.

“It wasn’t a matter of believing him or not. It was what I was and was not willing to do based solely on his word. Besides, what’s that saying? Better safe than sorry?”

“Alright, we’ll commission the armor.” She wasn’t sure if she was agreeing because she agreed with him or just because she could never seem to tell him no. 

Honestly, as soon as he smiled at her, so clearly pleased and happy, she didn’t care. She loved him, and she’d give him anything he wanted so long as it was in her power to do so. Hadn’t she already proved that?

So, she helped him design a new set of armor with expandable panels in the leggings, around the waist and then in the top of the armor through the waist area as well as the chest to accommodate changes her body had already gone through and those she could still expect. Anders was excited that with the panels completely folded in she should even be able to wear the armor comfortably when she wasn’t pregnant.

Now they just had to take the sketches to her armorer and let Anders explain how the panels needed to be made so they weren’t too bulky when they were folded in still. 

Anders sighed, “It’s too bad we’re not Wardens. This project would be right up Wade’s alley. And, he could do it in Archdemon hide.”

“Is Wade an armorer?” She couldn’t recall Anders talking about him before.

He smiled fondly, “Wade, is a superb armorer, possibly the best. And, the more complicated and different the design the more he liked it, not to mention the faster he worked.” He turned to look at her. “You know that coat of mine you hate so much? He made it. Of course, it was a lot prettier then. And my boots, his own design.”

“He designed a set of boots?” Why would an armorer create a special design just for a pair of boots.

“Ah, but my boots are special. Even notice how heavy they are?” This was obviously something he enjoyed talking about.

“Yeah, they are a bit heavy.” She conceded.

“Silverite braces, for when I fight using my feet and legs.”

She flashed him a smile, “I’d really like to see you do more of that.” A very raunchy image of Anders and Fenris sparring naked flashed in her mind and she felt herself flushing with heat. They’d kill each other, but until they did it would be positively smoldering and sexy to watch.

Anders quirked a brow, “I can see that mind of yours at work. Just what are you picturing me doing now?”

Did it make her a terrible wife that she wanted to see her husband fucking another man? Or maybe it just made her a terrible person because both men in question detested each other. “I was remembering the day we went sparring on the coast, and picturing you doing it naked.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie; he had sparred Fenris that day.

Anders chuckled and stood up, “Well then my love, come upstairs with me and maybe if you’re really good I’ll show you a few of my sparring moves.”

She had a feeling tonight was going to be a very good night.

********

They’d taken the sketches to the armorer this morning. It had taken nearly an hour for Anders to be sure the man understood what he wanted and how it needed to be done. But, having worked with Wade on his own armor it seemed easier to convey things to this armorer.

It was just that the design was completely new and he was using belts and straps in an unusual way. Once the man had understood he had seemed excited to work on the armor. Not that it stopped him from charging them an exorbitant fee to get it done as quickly as possible. 

Anders returned to the estate with her. He should get to the clinic but was loathe to leave her. Inside the estate he slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. “What if I stayed here with you, just for today?”

She smiled and rose up on her toes to place a quick kiss on his lips. “If I let you stay today, it will be that much harder to get you to go tomorrow.”

She was right; he had a hard enough time leaving her every day. All he wanted was to stay with her, to cherish each moment of the miracle taking place inside of her. He let his fingers trail lightly over her belly, and a small thrill of pleasure swept through him.

She shook her head and moved to the bench in the foyer to take off her boots. He quickly dropped to kneel at her feet and took them off for her. She patiently ruffled his hair, even though she was probably annoyed he hadn’t let her do it herself.

He stayed kneeling at her feet and laid his head on her lap. “You’re going to be a great mother.”

“And what makes you think that?” Her fingers kept sliding through the stands of his hair that had escaped his hastily pulled together ponytail. Her touch was soothing and loving.

“You always take good care of me.” And she did. Everything in his life that was good, that was real, was because of her. 

She used her money not only to protect him but to further his cause. She loved him, no matter what. She made sure he didn’t forget to eat. Even Lord and Lady were there because she hadn’t let him get rid of them.

“Someone has to.” She said lightly.

He looked up at her, “No, they don’t. But you do, you have since we met.”

She was silent, just watching him. She seemed unsure of how to respond. But she didn’t need to say anything. He just wanted her to know he thought she would be a great mother, and that he was grateful for everything she’d done for him over the years.

He settled his head back on her lap and held her. She started caressing his hair again and Anders let his eyes drift shut. It was nice, just being here with her. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, and she didn’t seem in a hurry to get back up. Eventually, his magic sought her out; he could feel it, little tendrils wrapping around her. It almost never happened this way, without sex.

He could feel her skin at first, then the beating of her heart. And lastly he felt such a huge wave of contentment and love wash over him it nearly stole his breath. It made him tear up to realize she loved him so much. It was a revelation everytime.

He didn’t deserve it, could never do enough to deserve such a thing. But, he could strive for it. Since she’d so foolishly chosen him, he’d be the best damn version of himself he could manage. 

He let himself bask for another moment. Being the best version of himself meant he needed to get to the clinic. It seemed there wasn’t a single version of himself that didn’t belong in that clinic. At least not one he could live with any longer.

When the baby was born it would be different. He didn’t plan on leaving the estate for a while. He didn’t want to miss anything, and he wanted to split the rearing of their son as equally as he could with her. 

A sharp knock at the door interrupted his thoughts about the future. He felt his magic recoil, and dissipate quickly. Unsettled at the unexpected feeling he lifted his head and looked at Sekhmet, “Expecting company?”

“It’s probably either Sebastian or Fenris. Come on, get up. I’ll check.” She smoothed his hair back then moved her hands so he could get up.

“I’ll get the door.” He stood and strode towards the door.

“Alright, I’ll put together something for you to eat for lunch in the clinic, unless you want to come back here.” 

He shook his head, as much as he wanted to it was a bad idea. “If I come back for lunch, I probably won’t leave.”

“I’ll pack you something then.” She headed off towards the kitchen and Anders opened the estate door.

“You’re still here?” Fenris was scowling at him.

“Getting ready to leave now.” He tried not to snap at Fenris, but the pique came so easily in the elf’s presence.

“Good.” Fenris pushed into the estate and settled his sword against the wall. He glanced at Anders again and smirked, looking quite pleased with himself.

Unable to help himself Anders stopped on his way to the kitchen and looked back, “What are you grinning at?”

Fenris shook his head, “Nothing. Just thought I should thank you for letting me spend _so_ much time alone with Sekhmet. We’ve been having _such_ a good time.”

Anders scowled his temper rapidly rising from irritated to irate. “Are you trying to insinuate that there’s something untoward going on between you and the mother of my child?”

Fenris quirked a brow, “You sure that kid’s yours?”

Anders felt fury flood through him. It was only with great effort he was able to shove it down and not rip Fenris’ head right off his skinny elven neck. He took a deep breath and replied calmly, “I know you’re just trying to wind me up. She told me that you were the one who called things off between the two of you.”

“Yes, that.” He snorted and scowled, “Imagine my surprise when I turned her down just the once and she ran off after you again instead of trying to convince me to give it a chance.” He shook his head, “After all the times you did the same thing, only to have her come running back again and again. You live and you learn I suppose.”

Fenris was doing an excellent job of destroying the peace Anders had been enjoying before his arrival. “I’m not going to let you drag me into another fight over her. I know you just care about her as a friend. We as much as established that after the Qunari Invasion.”

Fenris took a step closer to Anders, almost like he was challenging him. “And a man’s feelings can’t change over time?”

Justice flashed bright under his skin, hazing over his eyes. Anders had lost control. Justice growled at Fenris. “I want you to know, when the time comes to put you down, I will be taking the pleasure of ending your life, dog.”

Fenris laughed, a deep hearty laugh from his chest. “I thought perhaps our dear Hawke had gelded you completely mage. Good to see there’s still some fight in you.”

Justice, confused and embarrassed retreated leaving Anders to deal with the after math of their loss of control. “You bastard, you did that just to get a rise out of me.”

“Of course I did.” Fenris inclined his head, “Did you expect anything less?”

A long sigh, “No, I suppose I didn’t.” For a brief moment he thought about using his magic on Fenris. 

Nothing to hurt him, just a small dose of healing magic, enough to leave the elf breathless, aroused and embarrassed. He nearly gagged when he realized what he’d been thinking about doing to the poor man. Doing that to Fenris was the same as a sexual assault. Anders turned on his heel, upset with himself that he let Fenris wind him up so much and that he’d contemplated such an act. 

The idea was awful, but Fenris wasn’t altogether blameless. “In the future, you might want to be careful about insinuating Hawke is a whore, she considers you a friend for some reason.”

He glanced back and saw Fenris pale. Apparently, he hadn’t fully grasped what he was implying. Before he said anything more he quickly headed for kitchen, still upset with himself.

Seeing Sekhmet just made him feel worse. How could he have so easily let Fenris rile him? He walked to Sekhmet and slipped his arms around her from behind. Holding her made him feel at least a little better.

“Anders?” There was a touch of concern in her voice as she turned, in the circle of his arms, to face him. “Everything alright?”

He shrugged and kissed her softly. “Just let myself get riled by your student.”

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be, it’s my fault.” He kissed her again, pulling her close and enjoying the taste of her when she willingly parted her lips for him. 

This was exactly what he needed; the raw taste of her, wild, untamed, the raging sea during a summer storm. The passion and love in her kiss could heal just about anything. He let himself sink into it for a while, be swallowed by it. 

She finally broke it off with a giggle, “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

He traced a finger over her jaw, “Promise?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like a desperate plea. What was with him today? He knew she wasn’t going anywhere, knew she loved him.

“Beside you is the only place I’m meant to be in this life, the only place I want to be.” She turned and picked up the tied bundle sitting on the table behind her. “Here lunch, now get going. The people of Darktown need you.”

“I can stay if you want. We could work on that research some more or just take a day off from everything and lounge around loving each other for the day.” He gave her an uncertain smile. He didn’t want to smother her, but he wanted to be with her.

“Not today, Fenris is already here for his lesson. Go take care of your patients”. Anders nodded and turned to leave the kitchen when Sekhmet suddenly spoke up again. “I love you, Anders.”

“I love you, Sekhmet.” He headed towards the basement stairs and the clinic. The feeling of loss he always felt when leaving her lately already stealing over him.


	69. Screams In The Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE, Sensitive Subject matter, Blood, Character Death, Suicidal Ideation

Anders’ head whipped around with the first scream. His name echoing through the halls of Darktown from her lips, it was a terrified sound. He felt his heart speed up and his stomach clench as he ran towards her voice. 

Nothing scared Sekhmet, she had faced demons, abominations, Templars and even dragons, none of them had rattled her at all. But now she was scared and screaming for him. As he got closer to her he could feel her fear and anguish, buzzing through him, pushing him to move faster.

Her voice was echoing down from the basement stairs to the estate, he took them three at a time until he saw her. Bodahn was with her, holding her up as the duo made their way to Darktown. The front of her dress was covered in blood and she was sobbing.

He nearly stopped moving at the sight of her, his own pain and fear gripping his heart like a fist. 

When she saw him she struggled to move faster, pleading with him. “Anders, save him, please save him. Oh Maker, I’m losing him, help me.”

Her voice stirred him to action. Quickly, he swept her up and carried her down to the closest landing and laid her down carefully. This couldn’t be happening; they’d worked so hard, been so careful.

He was pulling up her dress and yelling to Bodahn. “Go to my clinic, I need lyrium, blankets,” His mind froze, his son was dying and he couldn’t get his mind working properly all he could do was stare at Bodahn blankly.

“Clean bandages, water, a sharp knife and a bowl, right?”

Anders nodded, thankful that Bodahn had paid attention when they had spoken about the possibility of an emergency. He turned back to Sekhmet who was ashen and nearly hysterical. Seeing her like that was really shaking him up, his fearless lioness reduced to this babbling girl.

He let his magic start moving over her as he spoke, as calmly as he could. “Love, I need you to calm down and take deep breaths for me, slow down your heart.”

She nodded, eyes wild, but she took a long, slow, deep breath and let it out slowly as well. He was grateful that concentrating on her breath seemed to calm her a little as he assessed what was going on. Her body was contracting, something had triggered premature labor. 

He used a faint lightning spell to try to counteract the strongly contracting muscles. The magic flowed from his long fingers, disappearing beneath her skin and worked quickly. With the contractions stopped, at least for now, he began to look for what was causing the heavy bleeding.

Bodahn was already back, he set everything down next to Anders except for a pillow and a blanket. The pillow he propped under Sekhmet’s head and the blanket he draped over her top half. He took up a position by Sekhmet’s head and held her hand, stroking it and speaking soft soothing words to her. She seemed like a lost little girl and Anders was glad for Bodahn’s help.

He struggled to keep his face neutral as he probed inside of her. She was a mess inside. What in the world had happened? He’d only been gone for a few hours. 

Her placenta had torn free from the uterine wall. The sac had ruptured as well, the fluid was completely gone. And worst of all, the contractions had started squeezing the child out of the womb and into the birth canal.

She was partially dilated already. Using a combination of magic and external manual manipulation he tried to move the baby back up into her womb. If he could move the baby enough he might be able to reattach the placenta.

A voice in the back of his head told him it was already too late, but he ignored it. This wasn’t just any patient, this was his wife and she was carrying his child so he had to try. He’d figure out a way to help her body replace the fluid once he got the placenta reattached.

The baby moved a little, mere millimeters, but a great gout of blood rushed from Sekhmet’s body. Anders stopped immediately and sought out the source of the bleed. As quickly as he could he healed the tear.

He tried again, but more blood gushed from her. Again he was forced to stop and heal her. Sekhmet had fallen silent; he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or worried.

Every attempt to move the child back into place caused another large gout of blood to pour from Sekhmet. Each time he tracked down the bleed and stopped it. She shouldn’t be tearing like that. The tears weren’t even happening in the birth canal.

And he had no idea why she was hemorrhaging so badly. He tried not to think about how much blood he was covered in. Maker’s breath he wished there was someone to pray to help for, this was too much for any man to bear.

And then he received help from the most unlikely of places. His heart beat slowed, the ache in his chest eased a little and his mind felt clearer. He had no idea how the spirit was doing it, but he felt him. Justice was there with him and was helping him somehow. Just the feeling that he wasn’t completely alone in this helped.

He glanced up at Sekhmet’s face. Her eyes were closed and Anders thought perhaps she had passed out. A part of him hoped she had, it would be easier on both of them. He let his magic wrap around the child again, carefully monitoring its heartbeat.

He tried desperately, for nearly twenty minutes to move the child back into place. He only managed to move the child a small amount, not nearly as much as he needed to. But, Sekhmet’s skin was turning bluish. She faded in and out of consciousness, the unconscious periods lasting longer and longer. 

If he kept trying to move the child back it was likely he was going to kill her. He closed his eyes for a moment, resigning himself to losing the child to save her. In truth, the child was dead already. He’d been using magic to keep its heart beating for the last several minutes.

Opening his eyes he used magic to slowly finish dilating her cervix, trying not to cause her too much pain. Sekhmet suddenly sat up and grabbed Anders’ arm, startling him with her speed. He wasn’t even sure she was able to move she had seemed so wiped out.

She seemed to know exactly what he was doing. “Don’t Anders, please. You can save him. I know you can.”

He shook his head, Sweet Andraste how he wished he was half the healer she thought he was. “I can’t, you’ve lost too much blood. If I keep going you’ll die and I’ll lose you both.”

He watched as her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry Anders, I’m so sorry.”

Anders couldn’t speak, his throat was so tight from emotion, he just coaxed her back down. He continued dilating her as she continued her refrain of apologies. He knew he should speak, should tell her it wasn’t her fault but was afraid if he tried he would dissolve into tears himself and he had to finish this before he could allow himself that luxury. 

He numbed himself by pretending it was just a patient, just someone he had to help. He managed, somehow, to cut himself off from her emotions completely, to negate the bond he’d formed with his magic over the past months. It left him feeling very empty and alone. He couldn’t even feel Justice anymore. Had Justice left him or had he somehow banished the spirit?

He tried to shut out Sekhmet’s voice, her apologies, her pleas, so he could save her. He just had to make it through this, to hold himself together until he had the child in his hands. He let the magic keeping the baby’s heart beating lapse. 

Somehow he thought it would be harder to do it once he was holding the child, seeing it. No healing, no magic, no matter how powerful could save the child at this point. It wasn’t developed enough to breathe on its own and there wasn’t a way to fix that. 

Still, when he finally held the child, saw it; he hated himself for letting that spell lapse. He should have tried harder. There had to be something that could have saved the boy, his beautiful son.

He had a full head of white hair and long fingers. He thought the boy had his nose and looked so perfect he could have been sleeping. Anders held his tiny hand, running a finger over the boy’s tiny still fingers. 

And that was it, the dam burst.

This wasn’t just another child, just a bad day he would try to forget when he went home. This was his son. Clutching the child close he let loose a scream that was equal parts anger and pain, tinged around the edges with the voice of Justice. It echoed down the staircase and up, and Maker only knew how far beyond.

It went on and on as his heart spilled out around him; there was no end to his anguish, no end to his grief. The child in his arms, his miracle of a son had died before he had even taken a breath, before he had even opened his eyes. Holding the boy close to his chest, Sekhmet’s blood still coating his hands and covering the child, broken sobs wracked his body. 

A moment, or perhaps a lifetime later, Anders had no idea how long really, he felt Bodahn’s small but strong hand on his shoulder. “Messere, she would like to see the boy.”

He struggled to look up, his eyes not wanting to be torn away from the sight of his son. His head ached, his throat was raw and his eyes burned when he saw her. His Sekhmet, his little lioness, pale and sad and still scared. He should go to her, hold her and tell her it would be alright, but he just didn’t have it in him. 

Not this time.

He didn’t want to let go of his son, didn’t want to hand him over. But, he hadn’t healed Sekhmet yet. If he didn’t do something he might just lose her anyway. And as destroyed inside as he felt right now, he knew he couldn’t take losing her too. 

A dark thought, darker than a moonless night in Darktown, skated across his mind. What if he let her die? What if he killed himself, there had to be a way right? Could they be together in death, a family?

Perhaps, what was scariest of all was that Justice didn’t growl at him about abandoning the mage cause. The spirit was completely silent. 

It was one way to be free of all that was expected of them both, all they were _needed_ to do.

He shivered, but it was no guarantee, he might lose them both forever. Pushing the ugly thoughts away, he held the body of his son carefully out to Bodahn. Bodahn shook his head trying to refuse but Anders kept holding him out for the dwarf to take. “Come on, take him, I have to clean her up, heal her to prevent an infection or further bleeding.”

Bodahn took the small body from his arms, clearly not happy about it, but dutifully carried him to his mother’s arms. Anders tried not to look; he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He carefully started healing her.

Sekhmet held the boy close to her and touched his face. She sobbed, but it was quiet, almost silent. Tears slid down her pale cheeks, she kissed the boy’s forehead even covered in blood as it was. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be your mother.” She raised her head to look at Anders, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Why was she apologizing? He was the healer; it was his job to keep the baby healthy. Had he ever failed at something as spectacularly as this?

She kept apologizing to him though, and he couldn’t speak. His tongue wouldn’t move and his throat was still tight. So, he gave a brief nod if for no other reason than to stop her from apologizing. It was killing him to hear it.

He finished healing her and sat back for a moment. He still had no idea why she’d kept tearing or why she’d been bleeding so badly. His magic twined around her checking her over more thoroughly, but he found nothing to explain it. He was at a complete loss.

She was still holding the baby close, and Anders needed to not look at them. The image was never going to leave his mind, though. He could feel it. He’d see them like this, probably night after night, joining his other nightmares. Mother and son drenched in blood, the baby dead and mother barely alive. Anders had overreached himself and Fate was so fucking cruel.

Needing at least a momentary distraction he used the towels and water Bodahn had brought try to clean Sekhmet off a little before trying to clean some of her blood off himself. He felt empty inside, not numb, he hurt down even in his bones but he felt hollowed out. 

Once he had her clean he grabbed up most of the items Bodahn had brought along and stood. “I’ll be back, I need to take this back to the clinic and close up.” He turned and left without waiting for a response. 

Bodahn could have carried everything back, could have closed the clinic but Anders wasn’t sure he could handle being alone with his dead son and Sekhmet yet. When he walked in he realized everyone had already left. Probably Bodahn had sent them on their way or they heard Sekhmet screaming and knew Anders wouldn’t be back anytime soon.

He put everything away, washed himself up as well as he could again, scrubbing hard. He didn’t want to be covered in her blood. He thought about changing his clothes, but he still had to get Sekhmet up to the estate. He was going to get covered in her blood again, anyway. 

And now he had to go back and deal with taking care of his son’s body. He covered his face, a few silent sobs shaking his frame. “I can’t do this.” His voice was a harsh whisper in the dark. “Justice, please” he slipped to his knees, “help me.”

The spirit was silent, there wasn’t even a ripple. Anders couldn’t feel him at all.

He knelt on the clinic floor for another moment, willing this all to be some horrible nightmare. No matter how he tried he couldn’t wake up. Unsteadily, he pulled himself up off the floor. The day wasn’t done yet.

He took a deep breath and headed back to where Sekhmet was still sitting on the landing, the baby’s body in her arms. His heart broke a little more at the sight. And then, a small glimmer of anger.

Desperately, he grabbed onto it. He needed it if he was going to make it through this. If he ever ran across Renault again Anders was going to kill him. 

There were so many reasons that…thing needed to die. The Darkspawn, the Blight, creating the Wardens, the taint, all of them were reason enough. But, for leaving Anders and Sekhmet with nothing to believe in, nothing to pray to at a time like this, that was the real reason he would die.

Anders took a deep breath. “Give the child to Bodahn and I’ll carry you back up to the estate. You lost a lot of blood and will be very tired.”

She shook her head, “I’ll walk.”

He breathed deep through his nose; the anger was useful, but he needed to keep calm, needed to stay rational. “If you walk back up all these steps it’s very likely that you will make yourself bleed again.”

“I’ll be fine, Anders.” Her voice was too quiet and she was too pale by far. She probably wouldn’t make it up a dozen steps.

“Do you think for once you could not argue with me and just do what I tell you? I’ve already held one dead body in my arms today, I’m not sure I’m up for a second.” He knew his was being nasty but couldn’t seem to stop himself. 

Sekhmet just stared at him for a long moment before carefully handing the boy over. Bodahn wrapped the boy in the spare blanket. Anders’ heart screamed out for him to stop, but he kept his mouth shut. Covering the dead boy up was probably best for everyone.

He looked away and scooped Sekhmet up in his arms heading back up the stairs. He didn’t want to see his son’s body disappear inside the blanket. Sekhmet was silent the whole way to the estate and Anders was glad, he preferred the silence just now. What could either of them say, really?

Inside the estate, he carried her up the stairs and set her in one of the chairs in their bedroom. “I’ll send Orana up to run a bath.”

“Where are you going?” Her too quiet voice was starting to worry him.

He paused but didn’t turn around, he couldn’t look at her, sitting there, dress still drenched in blood. “The body needs to be taken care of.”

“I’m going with you.” The odd whispery voice insisted.

He closed his eyes, wishing she would just stay put. “Just stay here, you’re not well.”

She pushed to her feet behind him, “I stood there, half dead when my father was on the pyre. I am not going to stay here while my son is placed on one.”

He turned to look at her and stepped forward just in time to catch her when her knees buckled. “You can’t walk that far.”

She slipped her arms around his neck, “I don’t need to. Bodahn will let us use the cart.”

He stood there for a moment wondering if it was worth it to argue with her. In the long run he decided just to give her what she wanted; he didn’t have the stomach for an argument. “Fine.” 

He settled her back into the chair. Her skin felt chilly so he moved the chair closer to the fire. He decided he’d help her bathe. He needed to keep an eye on her; the blood loss had made her very weak. “Here, lean forward so I can unbutton your dress.” 

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. “I named him.”

Anders scowled, “What?”

“I named him, he should have a name.”

His fingers worked on the buttons as he tried to keep his mind as blank as possible. “I thought we already had names chosen.”

“They don’t seem appropriate.” That voice was starting to bother him, too soft, too much like a strained whisper.

Anders closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, “Then what does seem appropriate.”

She sat up slowly, “I named him Gaoth.”

He started pulling the dress down her arms but paused at hearing the name, “What?”

Her eyes were far off, looking past Anders. “It’s Alamarri, it means wind.”

In and out of their lives like a gust of wind, perhaps it was appropriate. “Alright.” 

********

They were on their way less than an hour later. As Anders was helping her into the cart Sekhmet’s wavering voice spoke up. “I want to get Sebastian.”

“No,” It was an automatic response. He hadn’t even thought about it. What did they need him for? And more importantly, why would Anders possibly include him in such a personal tragedy.

“Please, Anders.” She pleaded, and Sekhmet never pleaded for anything.

He wanted to say no again, but he should at least find out why she so adamantly wanted him there. “Why?”

She shrugged, “It feels wrong not to have him sent off without some kind of blessing.”

“But you know the truth now. All that Chantry crap is bullshit. There’s no point to it.” He insisted.

“Please?” 

Fuck, “Fine, let’s go get him quickly.” 

Anders sat next to Bodahn who had insisted on driving the cart because he had borrowed the horses from a friend in the Merchant’s Guild. Sandal and Orana sat in back with Sebastian and Sekhmet who was once again holding the child although it was bundled up now. Tyr sat next to her, whimpering and licking her hand periodically. 

Sebastian was speaking to Sekhmet in hushed tones. Anders couldn’t make out what it was, but wasn’t sure how he could possibly comfort Sekhmet, considering his Maker was a damned fraud. Anders just needed this all to be over.

Once they had found a suitable spot outside of town the men had cut wood and built a small pyre. Sekhmet cried as she placed Gaoth on top, and then placed what looked like folded cloth on top of him before stepping away. Orana laid flowers around him, Sebastian said a blessedly short prayer and finally Anders set the thing ablaze.

Sebastian stood beside Sekhmet, caressing her shoulder as Sekhmet sang softly. It was a song Anders didn’t know and words he didn’t want to hear. When she was done he made her sit so she wouldn’t exhaust herself. Sebastian stayed dutifully at her side.

Anders rubbed his temples, his head was pounding. Justice had reappeared and had been keening since the pyre had been set ablaze. _“Where were you?”_ he asked the spirit, but received no response other than the spirit’s continued keening. _“I needed you.”_ Still, there was no real response.

He gave up and just stood watching the flames feeling the bile of self pity rise in his throat. He was almost glad Sebastian was there to help Sekhmet. Anders had no idea how to comfort her when he felt so broken himself. 

He had overreached himself. He had been allowed a taste of happiness with Sekhmet. How had he ever thought he would be allowed a child? 

******** 

He slowly clawed his way to consciousness as he was repeatedly shaken. “Whaa?” His tongue felt thick and his head felt fuzzy. 

“Let’s get you up to bed, sir.” Bodahn’s voice was soft. 

Carefully, he began to sit up and an empty rum bottle slid off him and fell to the floor before rolling away. The room spun a little, even in the dark. His tongue felt thick and slow, “Am I drunk?” 

Bodahn nodded, “Indeed, you are sir, quite drunk in fact.” 

Justice had let him get drunk? He hadn’t been drunk in years. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, Justice hated the feeling of being intoxicated. 

Bodahn helped him to his feet and held him steady as the room swung treacherously around him. They made their way, weaving to the stairs. With Anders’ much large size, Bodahn struggled to keep him supported. 

The two swayed dangerously as they headed up the steps and Anders was sure more than once that they would both go tumbling down the stairs together. When they finally reached the mezzanine Bodahn steered him towards the bedroom. 

Anders stopped. “No, not in there.” He needed to stay numb, for just a while longer. 

Bodahn scowled at him. “But sir, Mistress Hawke is asleep already. She fell asleep waiting for you. You told her you would be up soon and that was nearly three hours ago.” 

Anders shook his head, and then gagged as his head swam. That was stupid. He’d apparently forgotten how to be drunk. “Take me to the next room.” 

“It doesn’t have fresh linens, sir.” The dwarf seemed torn between irritation and pity. 

“’Salright, I’m not feeling too fresh myself right now.” He just wanted to climb in and hopefully enjoy a few hours of oblivion before reality crowded in again. 

Bodahn sighed but helped him to the room and Anders flopped onto the bed not even bothering with the covers. Bodahn unlaced and tugged his boots off before he folded the far side of the blankets over on top of Anders. “See you in the morning, sir.” 

Anders awoke some hours later as his stomach turned. He moved to crawl out of bed only to find that Bodahn had placed a large basin on the floor. It was a very good thing because Anders wouldn’t have made it out of bed. 

Barely had he noticed the basin was there before he was emptying the contents of his stomach into it. After a couple minutes it was nothing but dry heaves and he rolled away from the edge of the bed onto his back staring at the ceiling. He wondered why Justice had let him drink. 

Perhaps the spirit had hoped Anders would find what he was looking for in the bottom of that bottle. He had been about to heal himself, calm his stomach and head off a hangover before he stopped. The aftereffects of the alcohol would give him something else to concentrate on, something else to think about other than the child he had lost. 

So, he tugged the blanket to wrap around himself a little more and curled up on his side hoping for sleep to reclaim him. Eventually it did, grief and alcohol could wear a man out quickly. 

******** 

Sekhmet woke up alone. That by itself had nearly been enough to push her to tears again. She’d fallen asleep alone and crying, why not wake up that way too? 

Anders hadn’t come to her bed last night. Not that she could blame him. She’d lost their child, the one they had worked so hard just to conceive. 

She pushed the covers back and slid her legs out of bed. They felt heavy and odd. She tried to stand up but her legs buckled and she fell to the floor. 

For a moment she wondered if she had done more than just lost the baby, but her legs moved alright. She struggled to pull herself back up and climbed back into the bed. It wasn’t just her legs. She was weak all over. 

And as odd as it sounded that was a relief. She was just weak and recovering. She’d felt similar in the days following her run in with Justice in the Deep Roads and her duel with the Arishok. 

She slid back under the covers and stared at the ceiling, sweating and panting from the exertion. Her heart was beating a funny rhythm in her chest. None of this boded well, how long was she going to be stuck in bed this time? 

“Anders?” She called out; her voice sounded a little odd still. She’d cried herself hoarse the day before. 

She waited for several minutes but there was no answer. She looked out the window; it must have been about mid morning. Had he gone to the clinic? 

She called again a bit louder, “Anders?” 

There was a loud thump and a few curses from the room next to hers. Next there were running steps and the door to the bedroom slammed open. “What’s wrong?” Anders was already casting, his magic seeking out her body as he jogged closer. 

His hair was a mess; it looked like he had slept in his ponytail, the hair sticking up in wild profusion with strange lumps where it was barely held inside the leather thong. His face was lined with the marks of folded fabric pressed into his skin while he slept. 

His clothes were rumpled and dusty for some reason. He smelled like alcohol and stale sweat, and as he got closer his breath made her stomach turn. What had he been doing last night? And his poor face was contorted in concern and obvious pain. 

“Anders, are you hung over?” 

“I’m not finding anything, should I take a look? Do you feel like you’re bleeding again?” He started tugging at the blankets covering her. 

“No, I’m…well, I’m not bleeding. I wasn’t sure you were here. I…I feel like after the duel.” She said sheepishly realizing she had woken him up. 

“I’ll have Orana or someone bring you up some food. That should help.” He rubbed his head and turned towards the door. 

“You never answered my question.” 

He turned and gave her an insincere smile, “I’m fine.” And he slipped out of the room. 

She sat there for a moment, staring dumbly after him. He seemed like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She closed her eyes as the reality of that settled over her. A single tear tracked down her cheek. 

Anders couldn’t even stand to look at her now. She’d destroyed his dream of a family. She’d failed someone she loved yet again. Could he have saved the child if she had gotten to him faster? Or was she just too weak to carry his child at all? 

She shifted to her side and curled up. She’d wanted the boy, their son, her sweet Gaoth. She felt broken and useless. A mother should protect their child, nurture it. And she had done neither of them. 

Her hands moved to her now flat stomach and she cried. Silent tears washing over her, she felt so empty. All those months with the child growing inside of her she had resented it as much as she had loved it. And now it was gone and she hurt, ached, her soul screaming out and there was nothing. 

Anders was right; there were no gods to pray to, no gods to blame. It was just her, and her body’s failures. Always her failures. 

No wonder Anders had gotten drunk. He’d married her, tied himself to a broken woman who couldn’t really give him what he wanted. She’d tried to tell him she was damaged, but he’d told her so many times she was fine. Too bad wishful thinking didn’t actually make it so. 

She must have slipped into slumber because the next thing she knew Bodahn was shaking her gently awake. “Mistress Hawke, wake up. Master Anders said we had to make sure you ate.” 

Her eyes lids were heavy and her eyes felt gummy when she opened them. She rubbed them to clear them, and sat up slowly. She was so tired, but the food Bodahn had brought up smelled wonderful. 

He set a tray across her lap, tea, toast with jam, eggs, some sliced fruit and even some ham. It was a veritable feast. She picked up the tea and took a sip, it was honeyed. She didn’t deserve such a spread. 

She looked at Bodahn who had settled into a chair not far away. “Where’s Anders?” 

“Sleeping, he had a late night.” But there was something in his voice. 

She nodded, not wanting to push it. It wouldn’t be fair to put Bodahn in the middle of whatever problems were between her and Anders. 

“Messere Vael sent over a message, he’ll be coming by to see you later today.” He smiled a little, Bodahn liked Sebastian. “And I sent a message to the elf to tell him you would be unable to assist him with his studies for a few days as you were not feeling well. I advised him you would contact him as soon as you were feeling up to it.” Bodahn wore his emotions so openly; he scowled just upon mentioning Fenris. 

She nodded, “What would I do without you, Bodahn?” 

“I’m sure you would manage just fine, mistress.” But by the look on his face he wasn’t convinced. 

“What have I said about calling me that?” No matter how many times she asked, sooner or later he started again. 

“You’re the Champion of Kirkwall, doesn’t seem right to call you by your name.” 

“Then call me Hawke like everyone else does.” She took a bite of her toast, relishing the jam. 

He flashed her an indulgent smile, like a parent to a child. “Very well, Hawke.” 

He stayed with her while she ate. They didn’t talk anymore, but what was there to say? Bodahn had just seen her through one of the worst experiences of her life. And whether he knew it or not, he was family to her. She really had no idea what she would do without him. 

She was surprised when she ate all of the food. She only remembered after she finished that she had a large appetite after she’d been badly injured…Not that it had been precisely an injury this time. Just her own body’s betrayal. 

“Get some rest, I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” 

She felt her heart sink. Bodahn was coming back, not Anders. She curled up again and let Bodahn pull the covers up over her. 

She wanted Anders. She wanted him to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay. She needed him to tell her they would get through this together. She needed to hear him say he forgave her. 


	70. Adrift

After she lost the child the Hawke Estate became very quiet. It broke Sekhmet’s heart. Even Sandal was quiet, as if he were afraid to do anything more than whisper. And Sandal without his raucous laughter seemed so somber, almost haunted. 

Orana seemed to have melted into the walls. Sekhmet couldn’t remember seeing her at all since the day she’d lost the baby. Bodahn assured her that Orana was fine; she was just keeping busy in the kitchens. Sekhmet hoped it was true and resolved as soon as she could move around more easily that she would check in on the poor girl.

Bodahn, himself, spent a lot of time with Sekhmet, as if he were trying to make up for Anders’ distance. He brought her all her meals and sat with her whenever Sebastian wasn’t there while she recovered. She did love to hear him talk about some of the storied items he had come across in his travels. It was at least a momentary escape.

Most days she didn’t see much of Anders at all. He usually checked on her when she was sleeping and even when she was awake it was perfunctory, a chore he had to get through. She actually preferred him to check on her when she was sleeping, that way she didn’t feel like such a burden to him.

He did come back to their room each night, usually stinking of alcohol and stale sweat. His hair hung in his face in limp strands. She wondered if he’d even bothered to bathe since the baby died. 

Without really looking at her he’d collapse into a chair near the bed with a book. He always used his reading as an excuse to stay up but Sekhmet knew it was because he didn’t want to touch her. She fell asleep each night, watching him, hoping for any sign that he didn’t hate her, that he still loved her even though she’d failed their child. She might as well have been watching stone.

Anders, if he slept at all, fell asleep night after night in the chair in their room leaving Sekhmet to sleep alone. And he was always gone again before she awoke, leaving her to wake alone as well. In two weeks he barely looked at her, barely spoke to her and didn’t touch her at all. He hadn’t even kissed her since she lost the child.

Had she lost him for good?

********

Justice could not understand what was happening between the two of them. He could not read Anders’ thoughts. The mage had walled himself off, something Justice was not even aware he could do. And when he tried to reach Anders he was always greeted with anger and bitterness.

Anders apparently blamed Justice for disappearing while he lost his son. And he had no desire to listen when Justice tried to explain what had happened. Anders had managed to push Justice back and cut him off without even realizing it. And he did not want Justice around now, so Justice did his best to stay out of the man’s way.

But, he could not fathom why Anders would distance himself from Sekhmet. In the past the mage had always gone out of his way to seek her out when he was hurting. Was this not a time when they should have been comforting each other?

Anders might not have wanted to see Sekhmet. But Justice watched her every chance he got. He saw the hurt, the ache in her eyes as Anders seemed cold and indifferent to her. He saw the silent tears she cried and how she seemed to shrink into herself a little more every day. Her pain had become bigger than she was.

That was something Justice could understand. He hurt, a deep all consuming pain. He had wanted to be a father, just as Anders had. And losing the child was painful in a way he had not experienced before.

From their time with her he knew that when Anders hurt, when he needed comfort he turned to Sekhmet, the fact that he did not now perplexed the spirit. He struggled not to go to her himself, wondering if she could provide comfort to him as she had so often done for Anders. But he stayed away from her.

He let it go on, the gulf between Anders and Sekhmet, trying to let Anders work through whatever he needed to. But, as the days stretched to weeks he could not take it anymore. Anders was still wallowing everyday, skulking around the library, clutching a bottle of rum and growling at anyone who tried to approach him.

The poor elven girl had become a ghost in the estate after Anders had yelled at her. She barely ventured from the kitchen anymore. Justice would go to her and apologize on Anders’ behalf, but he knew the girl was afraid of him. All he could do was hope that Anders would remember to apologize when he stopped being a complete ass.

In the meantime, he was sitting in this chair again. Sitting and watching Sekhmet silently cry herself to sleep while Anders pretended not to see her, trying to bury his alcohol soaked mind in the meaningless book in front of him. And as Justice watched her he realized he could not remain a spectator any longer.

Once Anders had fallen asleep he crossed the room and climbed into the bed with Sekhmet. He had barely touched her shoulder with Anders’ hand before she turned to him, burying her head against Ander’s chest and wrapping her arms around him. She sobbed openly, the sound a raw, open wound. 

Justice felt his reserve crumble and shed his own tears. Even this was a revelation, he had no idea he could cry. He felt as broken as she sounded. The both wept for a long time, not speaking, not needing to, they both understood the pain. And there was a relief to be found in it, in his tears and the feeling of her arms around him. 

When her sobs subsided Sekhmet stretched up and kissed him. Justice was surprised but found he quite enjoyed the kiss even as the ache of loss eased slightly. He felt Anders’ heart pounding and his blood rushing in his veins as Anders’ body reacted to the touch it had been denied for so long. Sekhmet’s fingers slipped under the tunic Anders wore and she nipped at Anders’ bottom lip.

“Touch me, Justice, please.” There was such a longing in her voice it called out to him.

He was not sure what he was feeling nor how much of it was just Anders’ body reacting to her. He still felt keenly the pain of loss and there was a yearning inside of him, a kind of longing. And Anders’ body had definitely missed Sekhmet’s touch.

Anders was uncomfortably erect. Justice wanted to touch her, wanted to feel her skin, to feel her reacting to his touch. Or was that just an echo of Anders’ wants and needs?

He was confused and still hurting. Was she really seeing him right now or was she just seeing a reflection of Anders? He was afraid to ask her what she really wanted; he wasn’t sure he could endure any more hurt and disappointment just now.

Instead, he tried kissing her again to see how she would react. She moved closer, pressing her body against him. Kissing him back she moved Anders’ hand to rest on her bare thigh.

And that was it. Their grief drawing them together, they weren’t gentle with each other. Justice let Anders’ body lead him. 

She pushed him back and took Anders’ clothes off. Looking Justice in the eye for a long moment she leaned forward slowly. Lightly, she traced the tip of her tongue up the scar in the middle of Anders’ chest, eyes still on Justice’s the entire time.

Tingles shot across Anders’ skin, he liked her touch very much. Justice gripped her hips and pulled her tight against Anders’ body, connecting with more skin, sending more tingles singing through the flesh he inhabited. The pain he had been all but drowning in for days seemed to ease a little more.

And the scar, Anders hated having that scar touched. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but to him the deliberate licking of that scar made him believe she really did want him and was not just using him as a replacement for Anders. It gave him pause; Trelain was apparently right about at least one thing. Justice and Anders were not truly one. They both clung to their own personalities, their own wants and desires.

Anders’ skin felt more alive, swimming in sensation as Sekhmet’s fingers skimmed along it. Justice wanted to touch her back. Feeling impatient he tugged at her clothes a bit awkwardly until she helped get them off. 

She kissed him again and bit Anders’ lower lip, scratching her nails roughly across Anders’ back. It was a curious sensation. It hurt, but it felt good too.

Scratches and bites dosed heavily with an underlying feeling of desperation punctuated the rest of their experience together. Justice struggled with patience even though Anders’ body was pushing him to get on with the act. He might not know much about the act he was currently engaged in, but he knew it was not something that should be rushed. 

When he could not stand it anymore he turned them over so that Sekhmet’s body lay below him. Justice entered her, it was hard and fast making her gasp and claw at his back again. It did not last long, but it did not need to. 

They both found what they needed. And as rough as they had been with each other, when it was over they cuddled and held each other. Justice did not want to let her go, did not want this brief reprieve with her to end. 

When it was over they would both be isolated again, locked into their vaults of loneliness. Justice felt a sharp surge of anger at Anders. How could he do this to them? How could he be so selfish? Did he truly not understand how much both he and Sekhmet needed him? 

A fresh tear tracked down Anders’ cheek but Justice ignored it. Perhaps if he managed to shed enough of them some of the pain inside would fade. How did mortals manage to continue living with pain like this? 

Long minutes stretched out before Sekhmet sat up. “Anders is going to be so angry, and he already hates me as it is.”

Justice just looked at her. He had no idea what to say to her. A flush of shame swept through him. He had just had intercourse with Anders’ woman. 

Why had he done that? How had it happened? Looking back he could not understand his actions. They were so dishonorable, not something any spirit of justice would have done. And if he was no longer Justice, then just what was he? An ill feeling rolled through him.

He was not ashamed of the act of sex itself. He no longer feared being made into a demon. If what Trelain said was right, he could control who and what he was.

But he had done something terrible to someone he considered a friend. Sekhmet was not the only who was going to be a target of Anders’ wrath when he learned what the two of them had done.

“Come on, get up.” She gently prompted him, “We need to find some elfroot or a poultice.” She bowed her head, looking down and Justice could see the sadness sweeping over her again. 

She shrank back in on herself; it hurt Justice to watch it. Her voice was soft, nearly a whisper when she spoke again. “Not that Anders has been looking at me but if he sees me with marks he’s going to be furious.”

“You want to lie to him?” Justice was surprised; he did not think there were any secrets between the two of them anymore. 

“No, I’m just not ready for him to know yet.” A small tremor shook her small body, “Maybe once he’s forgiven me for losing the baby we can tell him.”

That was a surprise. He had not realized she thought Anders blamed her for the baby’s death. How could he? He was a healer, he would know better than that. “Do you really think he blames you?”

“Doesn’t he?” She looked almost hopeful.

He wished he could tell her that Anders did not blame her. “I do not know. I cannot seem to touch his thoughts lately.” He stood up and rested his hand on her shoulder, not wanting her to try to stand. 

She was doing better but she was still fairly weak. He worried that after their exertions in the bed she might be too tired to stand safely. “I will head down to the clinic through the basement. I will return quickly.” He pulled on Anders’ clothes and headed down to Anders’ clinic.

He hurried, wanting to get back to her as soon as he could. When he returned she was still sitting, but she was dressed again. She gave him a weak looking smile when he came back in the door. 

And a strange feeling filtered through him, something warm and comforting. It was an alien feeling, but not at all unwelcome. He only wished he could put a name to it, and perhaps that it would never go away. He spent so much time feeling angry and driven, compelled to action regardless of the toll it took on him or Anders that this was a relief.

Had he lied to Anders? Did he love Sekhmet? And would Anders ever forgive him for what he had done?

Even knowing the trouble that was likely to follow this night he found it difficult to regret it completely. Spending time with Sekhmet had eased his pain for at least a little while. He hoped he had managed to provide her at least a little relief as well. 

Even now he wanted to hold her again. No desire followed, he had just found holding her pleasant, comforting. Had he misunderstood his earlier desire of her? Maybe the sex had been more of a reaction of Anders’ body missing hers.

He was starting to remind himself of Anders. He was not used to questioning everything he did and everything he felt. That was more of a mortal trait. 

He crossed the room and had Sekhmet chew some elfroot while he applied a poultice to her bite marks and scratches. The two of them cleaned everything up and sat there for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. He did not want this brief interlude to end. And she seemed as at a loss as he felt. 

He knew he needed to get her back to sleep and relinquish Anders’ body. It was not his place to hold her and comfort her. It was not his place to seek his own comfort from her. And it had certainly not been his place to lie with her.

He had much to think on. And if he released his hold on Anders’ body he could think more clearly than he seemed to be doing now. Sekhmet’s mere proximity seemed to muddle his thoughts. Even now he wanted to feel her fingers caressing the lines of worry on Anders’ face, soothing them away.

Instead, he stood and pulled the blankets back down, gesturing for her to lay back down. She crawled back into bed, curling up to try to fall back to sleep. And as much as Justice wanted to join her he went back to the chair and to the cold exile Anders had imposed on them both.

********

As Sekhmet felt better and was able to move about more freely she fell into a routine. There wasn’t any real comfort in it, but it was better than wallowing and staying cooped up in the estate all the time. That was just too painful.

She left the estate as early as she could each day. She wasn’t sure if Anders cared or not anymore, but she didn’t leave Hightown and she didn’t take any jobs. Mostly, she went to the Chantry. And each night she’d come back in time to grab something to eat quickly and tumble into bed.

Anders still barely acknowledged her. He still hadn’t touched her, still hadn’t slept in her bed. But she found herself looking forward to when he fell asleep.

He didn’t sleep often, but when he did she and Justice enjoyed a few stolen moments. They didn’t have sex again. It wasn’t that she felt guilty about it, exactly. She was sorry it had happened without Anders’ knowledge and blessing, but she kind of felt like it would have happened sooner or later anyway; if for no other reason than to sate Justice’s growing curiosity about it.

That night hadn’t really been about the sex anyway. It was about the comfort the two of them could give each other. And now, they held each other, vented their grief and just enjoyed each other’s companionship. 

For a spirit that Anders had been convinced he had corrupted with his anger, Justice was very calm and gentle with her. He seemed to be grieving the same as she. Mostly, he liked to just lie in the bed with her and hold her. 

Some nights he shed tears for the son he thought of as partially his and others he was completely silent. It broke her heart to see how he struggled and to know how lonely Justice had become. Anders had cut himself off from Justice as much as he had cut himself off from Sekhmet. 

Anders had locked them both into this dreadful loneliness on most days. But, when he slept they could assuage that for at least a little while. Justice usually let her fall asleep in his arms. He’d stay awake and disentangle himself from her later on. 

Those nights were almost bittersweet. When she woke up alone in the morning it kicked her in the heart all over again. But she wouldn’t take that little comfort from either of them. Especially, not Justice.

She could leave each day to escape the oppressive air of the estate, and did. Poor Justice was trapped in those stone walls with Anders. He’d finally stepped in and stopped Anders from drinking himself blind every day, but other than that he let Anders grieve in his own way, no matter how much it was hurting him.

She spent her days with Sebastian. He never asked anything from her, but was happy to give her his time each day for as long as she wanted it. Some days she felt like talking and others she was mostly silent and Sebastian took it all in stride. 

Elthina didn’t let Sebastian do much with the flock anymore. And with Sekhmet not taking jobs it left the prince a little listless. Her visits were a good distraction for both of them.

A subtle sadness hung over Sebastian though whenever she asked him about it he would just smile and tell her it was nothing to worry about. She wished there was something she could do to help him after everything he had done for her over the past few weeks. But, Sebastian, even though he could be a little arrogant at times, truly did like helping people. And that seemed to be the only thing he wanted to do just now, to help her with her grief and pain.

And because he was such a great friend, when she got angry over the whole situation he took her to the training room and helped her improve with her throwing knives. He pushed her to harness her anger, to use it to do better. And she could swear he was speaking from personal experience. So, when he challenged her she couldn’t help but work that much harder, focusing and forgetting her pain for at least a little while.

Every now and then Fenris would visit at the Chantry as well. It was the only time she saw him. She hadn’t resumed his lessons and he hadn’t ventured to the estate since she had lost the child. She didn’t bother to go see him at his mansion. The one time she had they had sat in uncomfortable silence until she had made up an excuse to leave.

Even when he came to the Chantry he never talked much. Mostly, he seemed content to sit and listen to her and Sebastian. Unless she was working with the knives, in which case, he seemed to enjoy riling her.

He’d teased and pushed her to the point of whipping a knife past his head on several occasions. Not that she aimed for him or had any intention of hitting him. Generally, it just made the usually somber elf laugh.

And she’d missed his laughter. There were times when she hadn’t been sure he’d get over Isabela’s betrayal and disappearance. But lately he seemed to be more content with life. Yes, he was still broody most of the time, but there were more moments with smiles and laughter than before. 

Maybe that was Sebastian’s doing. She knew she felt lighter around him. Something in Sebastian’s very nature was soothing. And, it had absolutely nothing to do with the Chantry.

She had no idea what it was, Sebastian was…well, complicated. He was arrogant at times and strangely humble at others. But, he gave deeply of himself and he easily put others at ease. And he was nearly as charming as Anders when he wanted to be.

Regardless of what was causing Fenris’ lighter mood she was thankful. And the two men seemed to enjoy each other’s company. The blossoming friendship between the two men made her happy. They could both use a friend or two.

Fenris had stopped by earlier today, and the three of them had talked about the possibility of taking jobs again soon. She wasn’t convinced it was a good idea. Not that she didn’t want to get back to work, but the idea of working without Anders seemed wrong. And Anders was in no condition to be taking jobs. He hadn’t even returned to the clinic yet. She’d promised to think about it and Fenris had headed home not long ago. 

She and Sebastian were sitting in the garden, where they spent so much of their time. She’d been crying on the poor man’s shoulder again. That was one of the things she was still struggling with. Waves of grief would just suddenly overwhelm her, seemingly out of nowhere.

Sebastian had been sweet, holding her and just letting her cry. He knew she didn’t need him to say anything. And truth be told there wasn’t anything left to say. Over the weeks he’d given her all the best he had to give. She was just glad he hadn’t grown sick of her and her apparently endless tears yet.

********

Anders reached the top of the stairs and scowled. The guest room next to Sekhmet’s room had the door standing wide open. Curious he walked over and peered inside where he saw Bodahn making up the bed. The window on the far side of the room was standing open letting in more light as well as fresh air.

“Are we having company, Bodahn?”

“No, messere.” Bodahn kept on with his preparations.

“Oh,” How long had it been since this room was last cleaned out? “Is it time to change the linens already?”

“No, messere.”

Anders was sure he heard annoyance in Bodahn’s voice. It was odd, Bodahn was always so jovial. He wondered if he’d said something to Bodahn while he’d been lost to drink and grief. His memory turned up no clues, so he wasn’t even sure if he should apologize to the man.

He took another step into the room and looked around; it had been freshly swept and dusted. “Why are you cleaning this room if no one is going to use it? Besides, shouldn’t Orana at least be helping you? Or maybe I could lend a hand.”

“No, sir Orana is working in the kitchen currently. I don’t need any assistance, I’m nearly done. And someone will be using it.” Bodahn’s voice was obviously clipped this time.

“Alright,” He took a deep breath, he didn’t want to irritate the man further, but his curiosity had a hold of him now. “Who’s using it then if we’re not having company?”

“You are messere.” He smoothed out the covers and headed towards the door.

He was using it? He watched Bodahn walk purposefully from the room. “Where are you going?”

“To fetch your things.” He didn’t even slow his steps.

Anders stepped back onto the mezzanine more than shocked. “She’s kicking me out?” 

Anders couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t even hinted at it and she was terrible at keeping things like that to herself. Why hadn’t she spoken to him at least first?

“Not at all. Messere Hawke still very much loves you even if you no longer feel the same. She would never ask you to leave.” He opened up the door to the bedroom Anders normally shared with Sekhmet. “I thought since you cannot bear to share the same bed with her, touch her, speak to her or even look at her it might be more convenient for you to start staying in a guest room.”

“So, you’re kicking me out because you think I don’t love her?” He was irritated now; Bodahn had no right to assume such things.

“No, I am trying to make your life easier.” Bodahn walked over to the chest Anders’ kept on the floor and picked it up.

“I don’t need you to make my life easier.” Anders snapped.

“As you wish sir, I am making Hawke’s life easier.” Bodahn calmly started carrying Anders’ chest from the room.

Anders stepped in front of him to stop him. “How is exiling me to another room making her life easier?”

Bodahn shook his head, looking almost sad. “If you have to ask me that messere, just let me move your belongings and leave it at that.”

“Bodahn…” Anders was shocked into silence when Bodahn dropped his chest of belongings on the floor.

The dwarf took a deep breath and stepped forward, closer to Anders, glaring up at him and pointing his finger as if he were scolding a child. “I serve her, not you. And I am tired of seeing her walk through this house with that heartbroken look on her face. I am tired of her leaving the house before dawn each day and not returning until late at night to save herself a little pain.” He stepped even closer to Anders, “So, I am moving your things out of her room and into a room you can have to yourself. And if you were any sort of man at all you would pack up and leave all together, haven’t you hurt the girl enough?”

“Hurt her?” Anders was at a loss, just what had he done that was so awful? “I haven’t done anything to her. She’s so sad because we lost a child.”

“She’s sad because you’ve left her to grieve alone,” Bodahn was raising his voice as he lost his temper, “because you cannot seem to bear to even look at her. She’s sad because she thinks you hate her for losing your son.”

Hate her? The words hit him like a blow, that couldn’t possibly be true, could it? “How could she possibly think that?”

“Have you told her otherwise? Have you done anything to make her think otherwise?”

“Sure, I’ve stayed here with her instead of going to the clinic.” But, a little sliver of doubt ate at him, niggling in his head. Had he stayed for her, or because he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of being around other people?

And Bodahn wouldn’t relent. “Have you spoken to her?”

“Of course I have.” He couldn’t remember what they had said exactly, but he must have spoken to her.

Bodahn looked skeptical, “And where is she now?”

Anders shrugged, “Out doing a job probably.” She was a person of action, getting out and working was probably good for her.

Bodahn snorted, “Messere Hawke hasn’t done a single job since you first forbid it.”

Anders scowled, since when did Bodahn know more about his wife’s life than he did? “Then where is she?”

“The same place she’s been all day for the last three weeks.” With that he bent and picked the chest back up off the floor.

Anders put his hand on top of it, not really caring if the man took it, but he needed Bodahn to keep talking. “Where is she?”

“Getting the comfort you should have been giving to her.” Bodahn was pushing him now, looking for a reaction.

Anders couldn’t give him much of one, just the sadness that kept flowing out of him like a river. “I lost my child too.”

“All the more reason for you two to help each other through it.” He moved the chest, tugging it away from Anders’ hand and walked around him. “Perhaps Lady Leandra was right; perhaps he is a better match for her.”

Anders felt anger rip through him but for once Justice was not to be found on the heels of it. It was hot and raw and visceral, like a flame scorching inside him. And though Anders felt himself burning with jealousy and fury Justice was very quiet and very calm. 

_“You knew,”_ Anders accused.

_“She did not hide it, Anders. She even told you where she was headed a few times had you cared enough to listen.”_

_“So, you’re going to blame me too?”_ Was there no one on his side anymore?

_“I cast no aspersions. It was merely an observation.”_

But Anders was sure he detected a hint of recrimination from the spirit even so. He turned and ran down the stairs and out the front door, slamming it behind him. He wasn’t exactly running to the Chantry but he wasn’t walking calmly either.

Inside he glanced around but didn’t see Sekhmet anywhere in the immediate vicinity. Elthina was on the dais, as per usual, but Sebastian was nowhere to be found. Anders jogged up the steps, “Where is she?”

She looked at him for a long moment before responding. “Relax child, of whom do you speak?”

“Hawke, where is she?” He couldn’t even pretend to be polite. All that garbage about just being friends, being siblings and the whole time Sebastian was weaseling his way close to Sekhmet ready to cease the first opportunity to win her affections.

The Grand Cleric responded in that slow, measured way of hers aggravating him further. “I believe you’ll find the Champion with Sebastian, in the garden. They spend most of their time there.”

He had barely stepped into the garden when he heard Sekhmet’s voice wafting to him. He followed it until he found her sitting on a bench beside Sebastian who had his arm around her and was rubbing her shoulder. Anders walked over and grabbed her arm pulling her up off the bench. 

“Anders?” She looked shocked and a bit worried.

She was probably worried about being caught Anders was sure. “You’re coming home.”

Sebastian stood, and Anders was surprised to see the spark of anger in the prince’s eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Sebastian even mildly angry before. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands of her, mage. Maybe you should let her go.”

Sekhmet took a step closer to Anders. “No, it’s alright Sebastian. I’ll go.”

Sebastian stepped forward, away from the bench and Anders could see the tension in his stance. Seemed the Prince was finally ready to take action. At least he was done hiding behind the guise of friendship. “You don’t have to; he can’t use his magic here.”

Anders wondered how he had been fooled by Sebastian for so long. And he really didn’t like the look Sebastian was giving him. He pulled Sekhmet close, a subtle reminder that she was not, in fact, Sebastian’s. 

She had the smell of the prince all over her. What had they been doing in the Chantry garden that she absolutely reeked of the man? His anger burned hotter at the thought of Sebastian’s hands on Sekhmet.

Sekhmet scowled at Sebastian, “What do you mean he can’t?”

“It’s the paver stones,” Anders had just noticed them himself. He gestured to them, “those sigils are to prevent mages from casting.”

She looked up at him, “Will they work on you?” She didn’t sound angry or like she wanted him to release her, she was just curious.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly and released her arm, some of anger letting go in the face of her calm curiosity. 

He wasn’t going to drag her home like some barbarian. Just what had he been thinking? But that was the problem, he hadn’t been thinking. He hadn’t been thinking for weeks.

Sebastian held out his hand to her. “Come here, Sekhmet, it’s alright he won’t hurt you.”

She scowled and slipped her hand into Anders’ own. “Anders would never…” Her voice faded out, and it broke Anders’ heart. 

She couldn’t say it, not if she wanted to be truthful. They all knew Anders had hurt her, more than once. Maybe Anders _should_ leave as Bodahn suggested. Maybe she would be better off with Sebastian.

She took a deep breath and smiled a little, “I’m going home Sebastian, I’ll be by to visit soon.”

Sebastian simply nodded and stepped away. Anders had been expecting him to argue or fight. But, he’d just stepped back and let her go.

“You’re not even going to fight for her?” He asked, confused, and still fairly angry. And now he was annoyed that Sebastian wasn’t willing to fight for Sekhmet when directly confronted. Why wouldn’t he, didn’t he realize how special Sekhmet was?

“Fight for her?” Sebastian raised a brow, “I would never presume to fight for her. I know as well as you do that she can take care of herself.” He furrowed his brow for a moment, “Or do you mean to suggest there is more going on here that a brother trying to comfort his sister over her loss?”

“You’re not her brother.” Anders snarled.

“You’re right, of course. I have an honor higher than a sibling. We were not born to one another, we chose each other.” Sebastian shook his head, and sighed tiredly. “The only barriers between you and your wife, serrah, were put there by you.”

“And you’re just so pious that you tended to her grief with no expectations and no hopes?”

Sebastian bowed his head a little. “You’ve got me. I had hopes; I hoped that in helping her to tend her grief it might help to assuage my own.”

“Your own?” What was he talking about?

“Having lost what family I have by blood. I was looking forward to being an uncle and to having a new member of the family that adopted me.” He looked up, his eyes pained. “I had thought we were past all of this, Anders. I had thought we understood each other.”

Anders wanted to think Sebastian was lying; that he was the snake Anders accused him of being. But looking at him and Sekhmet it was clear to see that they were both confused and hurt by his accusations. And Sebastian was right. If Anders hadn’t put a wedge between him and Sekhmet she wouldn’t have even been at the Chantry.

He lowered his head, shame sweeping through him. He spoke softly, “I don’t understand anything anymore.”

Sebastian nodded sagely, “Grief is a strange beast.”

“I’m sorry, she’s...” Anders glanced at Sekhmet who was still standing silently at his side. “She’s all that I have, all that’s…” He swallowed thickly surprised by the wave of emotion that swept up on him.

“Think nothing of it.” And the understanding in the prince’s eyes told Anders he knew exactly how Anders felt. 

And if Anders was honest, that was part of his problem. There were too many people in this damned city that knew that feeling. Sebastian had been robbed of his family and in a way had only Sekhmet now as well. 

And Fenris…no, he wasn’t even going to think about that. He found it difficult to even stomach the idea of Sekhmet’s friendship with that wretch. Anything else was just too much. 

Sebastian looked at Sekhmet and smiled. “I’ll see you soon. Take care of each other.”

She smiled and nodded. Anders followed her out of the garden and through the Chantry silently. He felt ten centimeters high. 

He had gone there, already accusing her of infidelity in his mind but the moment she knew he wanted her with him she had gone happily. He held her hand and walked quickly until they were free of the Chantry and nearing the estate. 

He slowed until he finally came to a stop. He couldn’t go back inside those walls just yet. He didn’t deserve too.

She looked up at him, those curious eyes again, curious and hopeful. She was trying so valiantly to hide the sadness. Sweet Andraste he loved her and he didn’t deserve her.

He bent down and kissed her forehead and caressed her hair. “I have so many things to apologize for I don’t even know where to start.”

“It’s alright Anders, you don’t need to apologize.” No hesitation, just instant absolution. She was incredible. She looked down; staring at the ground and her voice was so quiet when she continued he nearly missed it. “Are you still angry with me?”

“Angry with you?” It struck him at his heart; she really did think he was angry at her for losing the child. How could he have done that to her? How could he have let her live with that all these weeks?

She shrugged suddenly looking away, “Do you think you might be able to love me again,” her breath hitched, “someday?”

Maker’s mercy, she was killing him. “I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I definitely don’t want to.” He kissed her cheek, “How can I ever make this up to you? How do I begin to make my apologies? Give me some hope that I can still fix this.”

She looked up, tears tracking down her face. He wiped one away and she quickly wiped away the other. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He nearly asked her where his little lioness was, but he knew didn’t he? She’d been bludgeoned into this timid thing before him by pain and loss, and the distance he’d put between them. He slipped his fingers back between hers and pulled her into the estate, closing the door behind him. Whatever came next wasn’t for strangers’ eyes.

He caressed her cheek, and it sent his heart racing. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and his heart was off and speeding. Had it been so long? 

The thought gave him pause. How long had it been, since he’d kissed her, since he’d touched her? He slid his hands down her arms, shivers running through him.

It was an odd feeling, new and like home at the same time. Why had he cut himself off from her? Touching her now he just wanted to wrap himself in her, to hold her, to sob his heart out into her hair. 

“Sekhmet,” her name was an invocation on his lips. 

He pulled her close, desperately needing her now. The numbness that he had tried so hard to envelope himself in was gone. It had been completely shattered by the stubborn dwarf who had cared enough about Sekhmet to risk Anders’ and possibly even Justice’s wrath.

The damned dwarf had probably saved his life today. Wiley bastard. He’d known exactly the right levers to switch to send Anders rushing after Sekhmet. 

Anders hugged Sekhmet, and kissed her neck. Emotion flooded through him and he kissed higher on her neck, her jaw, her cheek and finally her lips. She wrapped her arms around him and he held on for a moment, just kissing her, feeling her holding him.

His body was screaming out, needing her like a man dying of thirst needs water. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t hold her tight enough. She tasted so good, and her lips pressed to his was such an unexpected relief.

But it was too much, too much emotion and sensation all at once after the long weeks and he eventually broke off the kiss. He clung to her, sliding slowly to his knees; the weight of the loss, of what he’d done to her, of what he’d done to himself a weight to heavy to bear. His arms wrapped tighter around her and he lost himself.

He buried his head in her chest and sobbed brokenly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him, Maker, I’m so sorry. I should have been able to save him. I should have known something was wrong sooner. Part of me knew I didn’t want to leave. Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I stay? I’m so, so sorry. I failed you both.” He shook and the words came out half hysterical and on choked sobs.

She held him tight and stroked his hair. She was trembling, and he just clung tighter to her. He’d been a fool; even now he had no idea why he’d distanced himself from her. He’d been so destroyed inside he hadn’t even been able to think. 

He’d tried to will the world away, to numb himself. His son, his beautiful son dead and he hadn’t been able to do anything to save him. What kind of healer couldn’t even save his own son?

Sekhmet pried him away from her. He looked up at her, heart screaming out at the loss of contact with her. She knelt before him, moving close and touched his face.

Tears were sliding down her pale cheeks, “Shh, love, I can’t understand you. Please, calm down.”

He’d been babbling, just pain and doubt and failure bubbling from his lips in a nonstop stream. He hadn’t even realized he’d been speaking aloud. Perhaps, he’d lost his mind cooped up in this estate all these weeks.

A flash of need swept through him and he grabbed her, kissing her again. He was hungry for her taste, a starving man deprived of sustenance for far too long. “Please,” he begged, breaking the kiss for a heart rending moment, “please.”

She held him close, willingly opening herself to him. She clung to him as he devoured her, the desperate kiss barely touching the edge of the need burning inside of him. He so desperately needed something, but gods what was it other than an end to this pain?

And then he realized what it was. He still couldn’t feel her. Nothing, not even an echo of her.

“I can’t feel you.” It was an agonized whisper from his lips.

“I’m right here.” She soothed.

“No, not…the magic, the connection is gone.” His traced his fingers down her arm, nothing, not even a glimmer. The realization of what he had lost nearly undid him completely. She was all he had; he couldn’t tolerate some half life with her.

She kissed his lips softly, “You’re upset. It’ll come back, just give it time.”

Anders wasn’t so sure of that. It had been a rare thing to begin with, hadn’t it? Had he lost if forever?

And now more than ever he needed to feel her, to feel her love. Maybe she was right. He knew how it had happened before. Perhaps he could recreate it. “Make love to me.” 

He shifted, ready to lay her back, to take her here right in the foyer, anything to re-forge that connection as quickly as possible. 

She tried to pull away from him, “Wait”.

He scowled and shifted again trying to get her to lie down again.

She pushed at him, “Anders, stop. I have to tell you something first.”

Something in her voice told him he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.


	71. The Ties That Bind

“You fucked him? What the fuck were you thinking? He’s a fucking Fade Spirit; you can’t go corrupting him just because you were fucking lonely.” Anders was pacing, hands clenching and unclenching as he stalked the far side of the foyer.

Sekhmet was trying very hard not to cry. She’d just gotten Anders back and it felt like she was losing him all over again. But, it was her own fault. She’d been responsible for what happened with Justice. She’d begged the spirit to touch her.

She didn’t even know what to say. Anders was right. And there was no defending what she’d done. She wondered what Sareyna would have thought of her current situation. After all, the Hero had been the one to predict Anders wouldn’t like sharing her.

“Nothing to say?” He was glaring at her.

“What should I say? I can’t take it back. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.” She wouldn’t argue with him. 

“How about a damned apology?” A muscle was ticking along his jaw.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Anders.” She even managed to hold his burning gaze when she said it.

Anders crossed the foyer in a few steps and stood looming over her. His eyes trying to scorch holes through her as lightning leapt between his finger tips and sparked along his hair. Maker, it’d been a long time since she’d seen him this angry. “Sorry you hurt me, but not sorry you fucked him? Not sorry you were unfaithful? Has it been that long since we took our vows already that you can discard them so easily?”

He reached down and gripped her chin lightly, tipping her head up to look at him. “Or perhaps you just prefer Justice’s touch to mine. Is that the real reason you stopped me?”

Now he was just being absurd, “Don’t be ridiculous. We were both hurting and lonely and it happened just once.”

“That’s a shit excuse.” He growled.

“It’s not meant to be an excuse.” She tried to keep her tone even but she felt her temper flaring.

He sneered and stepped away from her. “Maybe you were right. Maybe you are a whore.” 

She didn’t even think. She just reacted; she threw a punch and connected solidly with his jaw. He stumbled back a step and this pent up fury she hadn’t even been aware was swirling inside of her just started spilling out of her. 

Rage and anger and pain that he’d left her isolated in her grief. She swung at him again. “You fucking bastard. You left me alone.” It wasn’t just her either; he’d done the same to Justice. When she took another swing at him she missed as he dodged out of the way. “You held us hostage.”

He backed away from her but she followed, still swinging, blindly. She’d started crying all of a sudden and the tears were making it hard to see. Although, they did not lessen her anger any. “You drowned your goddamed sorrows and let me wallow in mine.” She had him cornered now, “You wouldn’t even look at me. You let me think you fucking hated me, you bastard.”

Anders had his hands up trying to protect his face, “Enough Sekhmet.”

She barely heard him and swung again, this time connecting with his stomach. “How could you leave me like that? 

He grabbed one of her hands, “Enough I said.” He was speaking through his gritted teeth.

She jerked free and spun, kicking out at him only to find herself trapped by Anders’ magic. He lowered his hands, watching her, his breath coming in ragged little gasps. Lightning was still sparking along his hair and skipping between his fingertips and it was starting to travel up along his arms now. 

Her darling mage was still furious, but there was something else in his voice when he spoke, “If I let you go will you behave?”

She glared at him, refusing to answer. Instead of snapping at her as she’d expected he smiled. Slowly, he leaned forward and kissed her, grabbing her hair and crushing his lips against hers.

She couldn’t believe his gall and bit his tongue when he pushed it into her mouth. He hissed but when he pulled back he was still smiling. And his eyes were darkened, that deep, rich color he got when he was turned on. He couldn’t possibly be aroused could he?

He knelt down and started taking off her boots. She was flabbergasted but all she could do was watch. 

“What the Void are you doing, Anders?”

He smirked, “Getting a better view for the show.” The crackles of lightning were slowly fading out.

He took his time undressing her until she was completely naked before him. He ignored her screams of outrage. She struggled to get free but his magic held her trapped and mostly immobile.

And when she threatened to make him pay he gave her a smirk and whispered in her ear, “Oh, I’m counting on that, love.” And then he began removing his own clothes. 

His one good eye stayed fixed on her the entire time. He seemed to take great enjoyment in peeling down his trousers and showing her just how aroused he was by the whole strange tableau. Had his grief and anger driven him mad? 

He knelt on the floor in front of her. One of his eyes was swollen almost completely shut and there was a dark bruise developing on his jaw. Yet another bruise forming on his abdomen.

Seeing the damage she had done to him she was having a hard time holding onto her anger. She’d been the one in the wrong and she had attacked him. But, that damned word. How could he call her that?

“You want to hurt me? Go ahead, but you do it like this, naked so I can see that gorgeous body of yours at work.” He spoke softly.

“No, I don’t want to hurt you.” She cast her eyes down, unable to look at him. “Haven’t I done enough of that lately?”

“Anger spent already? Let’s see what we can do to fix that then.” He moved until he was behind her and swatted her bare ass.

She yelped more in surprise than pain. He wasn’t hurting her, other than a little bit of sting. It was just that being spanked was less than dignified. And he didn’t stop with just one slap. Each slap was a little different, sometimes with the palm of his hand, more fondling her ass that spanking, sometimes mostly his fingers, a sharp but brief sting.

“Let me go, you ass.” She bellowed.

“I would, but I can smell how turned on you are right now. Seems you enjoy being punished for being naughty.” He slid a finger into her sex and she was embarrassed at how easily it slipped in.

He pulled his finger from her and wiped her own wetness across her ass and immediately started spanking her again. Her sex began clenching with each swat. No, no she was not going to like this. It was humiliating, it was degrading.

She grit her teeth and searched for the anger he seemed to want from her. Anders’ finger slipping inside of her at random intervals made it hard to find and hold onto though. Her ass was starting to sting now, but it seemed her body still liked what he was doing.

Andraste’s tits, this was all kinds of wrong. How could he play her body so easily? How did he know she would like something like this? She’d never even know herself she was so depraved. 

He’d stripped her almost against her will and then spanked her and her body’s response was arousal? “No,” she bellowed, finally feeling her anger well up inside her. “Let me go, dammit.”

She was more than a little surprised when his magic disappeared; tumbling to the floor gracelessly from the odd position she had been caught in. So, she was sprawled awkwardly on the floor, her ass stinging and her sex wet and wanting. 

She could hear the smug bastard laughing behind her. Furious, she pushed to her feet and gave him exactly what he wanted. She smacked his self-satisfied fucking face.

“How dare you spank me like some errant child?” She snarled.

From his position sitting on the floor he looked at her, red handprint rising on his cheek and smirked, “Quite easily actually.” He snagged her quickly and jerked her forward with one hand and pushed her with the other so she fell across his lap. “Let me show you.”

And he actually had the gall to do it again. Spanking her while she jerked and struggled trying to break free of his grasp. She screamed at him but he just laughed. Finally, realizing she couldn’t squirm free she bit his thigh, hard.

He jerked his leg away from her mouth, “Ow, fuck.”

“Serves you right.” She snapped as she jumped up to her feet, finally free of his grasp.

“You broke the skin.” His tone was almost accusatory.

She shook her head, “You’re a damn mess. Will you heal yourself already?”

“No,” he launched himself at her and knocked her down. She landed hard on the stone floor of the estate with Anders on top of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Only his hand cupping the back of her head stopped her from knocking herself senseless.

He moved fast, pinning her arm over her head before she even realized what he was doing. Still trying to pull air back into her lungs she squirmed and struggled beneath him but he finally pinned her other arm as well. Holding both at the wrist with one hand leaving one of his hands free.

He skimmed his fingers down her side then leaned forward and kissed her. She kept her teeth clenched together so he couldn’t slip his tongue inside her mouth. It didn’t seem to bother him too much; he simply turned his attention to her neck. 

He found a sensitive spot and worried it lightly with his teeth. She didn’t want to respond but ended up arching her back in pleasure. Anders, obviously encouraged, pushed his thigh between her tightly closed legs spreading them. 

She wanted to fight back but he was sucking on a such a sweet spot, right behind her ear, and Andraste’s ass it felt damned good. Anders ground his thigh between her legs giving her a teasing hint of friction. She sighed, she wanted this much as it pained her to admit it and decided she could fight him later. 

For now she was enjoying his ministrations. She closed her eyes and relaxed, ready to accept whatever Anders wanted. He seemed to sense her surrender and immediately shifted to kissing her, though he kept her hands pinned above her head.

It was so good kissing him again, the sharp, slightly sweet taste of him. It was fantastic. She felt herself melting into it, the pure luxury of being with Anders.

And then she was ripped out of it. She jerked and squealed and nearly bit his tongue. She wished she had. The bastard was tickling her. 

As a general rule she wasn’t ticklish, but if she was relaxed and not expecting it sometimes she was. “You bastard,” she squealed between gales of tortured giggles. “I’ll gut you.”

She could barely breathe she was laughing so hard and Anders wouldn’t relent. Finally, she wriggled enough and twisted and managed to knee him right between the legs. He grunted in her ear before rolling off her.

“Maker’s balls,” he groaned.

She laughed, “You’re pretty fantastic, Anders. But I wouldn’t quite call you the Maker. Or were you only wishing it was the Maker’s balls instead of yours?” She sat astride his waist, musing that the injury hadn’t managed to flag his desire much. “Now will you heal yourself?”

He gripped a handful of her hair and pulled her down into another bruising kiss. She noticed he kept his tongue to himself this time. She wasn’t falling for his sweet charms though. She struggled against his hold and when he finally started breaking off the kiss she bit his bottom lip.

Using his grip on her hair he tipped her head back and bit her throat and then recoiled as if it had pained him somehow. He let her hair go and just watched her for a minute, his hands at his side leaving himself completely open and vulnerable.

She could see it in his eyes. He still wanted her to hurt him, but why? “Anders, what’s going on?”

He put his finger over her lips and closed his eyes. “Give me what I need or don’t. I won’t be upset, I understand. But, please don’t ask me.”

She’d had rough sex before, but she’d never had a man want her to hurt him. She wasn’t sure she could. But, that look on his face, it was like he was begging her, like sitting there still beneath her was an agony all its own.

She couldn’t understand why he needed it, probably never would. Anders was complex in ways she didn’t even think he understood. He was a master at giving her pleasure, and if this was what he wanted, she would do her best to give it to him. She owed him, and perhaps this was a step on the way to paying him back, no matter how strange she thought it might be.

Best not to think about it too much. She leaned forward and latched onto his nipple with her teeth at the same time reaching back to dig her short squared off nails into his still incredibly stiff cock. He cried out, his body going rigid for long moments before he squirmed and then grabbed her hair to pry her off.

Most of the rest of what happened between them was a blur. They tussled, almost wrestling. And periodically when he started complaining he wasn’t made of glass or something else along those lines she’d slap him, bite him, or scratch him harder.

And each time Anders attacked her with a renewed vigor: pinning her, teasing her, caressing her, whispering filthy things in her ear. Each time goading her, trying to get her to fight back and escape. And she did, if for no other reason than to hear him growl at her like some feral thing.

On the stone floor they both suffered minor injuries, scrapes and bruises. He always healed her right away but refused to heal his own. She wasn’t sure how long the two of them rolled around on that floor fighting dirty with each other, it seemed an eternity to her. 

She was fine with their little game, at least in theory. She didn’t even mind the red welts and bites she was leaving all over Anders’ body. But that eye, from when she’d had her first outburst, every time she looked at it she felt ashamed.

Anders must have known because he tried hard not to let her see it. And it was usually after she’d caught a glimpse of the bruised and swollen flesh of it that he complained she was being too gentle. 

Her emotions were all over the place. She was angry when he managed to pin her, ashamed when she caught sight of his black eye, aroused when he fondled her and kissed her, and exhilarated when she managed to wriggle out of his grasp or when she managed to momentarily pin him. It was such a strange game; she wasn’t sure what she should be feeling.

And maybe that was the point. The two of them had been through such emotional upheaval as of late, this was a strange sort of release. There didn’t really seem to be a right or wrong response to whatever it was they were doing.

She giggled; they were rolling around naked on the ground like animals. And it was liberating in its own way. Anders paused and ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

There was a dark bruise on his jaw from the first swing she had taken at him, but it didn’t look anywhere near as bad as his eye. She felt the flush of shame sweep through her again and tried to look away. 

“Stop,” he murmured, “where’s that beautiful giggling girl I saw just a moment ago?”

She touched his face gently, “Anders, your face, please heal it.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, his fingers twining into her hair. And in a blink he managed to banish the shame, flooding her entire body instead with desire. He pulled her hair a bit and she responded by biting at his lips.

He jerked away suddenly and flipped her over. Using her hip and a handful of her hair he pulled her up to her hands and knees. Leaning over her he whispered in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you now, unless you tell me not to.”

He remained still for several long seconds, her panting and waiting beneath him. And then he entered her roughly, a growl tearing from his lips as he sheathed himself completely inside of her. A surprised grunt escaped her as his body collided into hers.

And then Anders held perfectly still. His breath hot in her ear as he held tight to her. Time stretched out longer and longer and still he didn’t move.

“Anders?” Was something wrong? Was he remembering what had started the fight in the first place?

“Please, love, stay still for me. Just give me a minute.” His voice was strained.

She did her best to stay still for him though she wasn’t sure why. He’d said he was going to fuck her, so what in Thedas was he waiting for? She desperately wanted to feel him just let go and really fuck her for once.

After a time his breathing slowed. He dropped soft kisses across her shoulders and started moving finally. He set a steady pace, but was far more gentle than she had expected. 

She almost wanted to scream, to cry, to sob in frustration. He’d been calming himself down so he could be gentle with her. Always so damned gentle, like she was somehow fragile.

He might be willing to play wrestle with her, even seemed more than happy to pull her hair and spank her. But when it came to the actual act of sex he was still treating her as if she were delicate. She’d never resented it as much as she did now.

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” She growled at him.

“Sweetheart, if you can’t feel me maybe you’re the one I should be healing.” But she could tell by the tone of his voice he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“You know what I mean, what I want.” 

He kissed her shoulder softly, “Why don’t you tell me?”

She jerked her shoulder away from him, “I want you to fuck me harder. Come on, after that lead up this can’t be satisfying for you.”

“No, I won’t hurt you.” He didn’t slow but he was quiet.

Back to this again? “I just asked for you to fuck me harder.”

“Which will inevitably lead to me hurting you. It’ll still be good. It always is, isn’t it?”

She fell quiet. It was pointless to argue with him about this. She’d tried to change his mind plenty of times before and always failed. And, if he wasn’t willing to do it now, chances were he never would.

She hung her head down between her shoulders and concentrated on enjoying what he was doing, because he was right. No matter what they did in this area of their life, it was always good. She pushed back against each thrust but with Anders’ hand on her hip he still controlled most of their movement.

She let herself be swept up in the feeling of his sliding in and out of her. Reveling in the feeling of him above her. She’d missed this, being with him, being his. She’d been so afraid she’d lost him.

He pulled out, turned her over and sat down. She looked at him questioningly until he leaned back and pulled her to sit astride his thighs. She positioned herself carefully and slid down the length of him, feeling him fill her slowly.

She closed her eyes, unable to look at what she’d done to him. His beautiful face, bruised by her own hands, her own anger. And the look of love and joy on his marred features was jarring and disturbing.

They were broken, both of them, warped and broken and scarred inside. And though they both did their best to hide it, sometimes it spilled out. Tonight, it had been twisted and ugly.

“Look at me, love.” His voice was tender as he caressed her cheek.

She shook her head and a tear escaped slipping down her cheeks.

She felt the tingle of his magic fill the air, his healing magic and she could smell the strong mountain lake scent of it. She felt it sweep past and under her. She nearly said a prayer of thanks, but there were no gods to pray to.

He leaned forward and kissed her lips softly, “Now, will you look at me?”

She opened her eyes, relieved beyond measure to see the ugly bruising was gone and so was the swelling. A little flood of happiness swamped her and she grabbed him and kissed him, an almost crazed kiss. He responded in kind, wrapping his arms tight around her and kissing her back, a driven, needy kiss.

He started moving again, thrusting up into her, holding her like he were afraid to let her go. And that desperate kiss, it just went on and on. Little moans of pleasure tumbled from his lips.

She found herself responding eagerly, riding him faster and faster. And just as she teetered on the edge of orgasm he stopped and held her still. She pulled back and looked at him wondering what was wrong.

“Don’t cum,” his gaze wasn’t playful like it usually was when he wanted her to try not to climax. 

“Now or…”

His eyes narrowed, “I mean it Sekhmet, don’t you dare cum. Ride me.” 

She did as he asked, or rather as he demanded. He took her legs, moving her off her knees and planting her feet on the floor on either side of him. He pushed her knees until her legs were spread as wide as they could go giving him a good view of her sex wrapped around his cock.

“Like this, I want to see my cock disappearing into you.” He guided her upwards, “That’s it a little higher; leave only the very tip inside, more. Don’t let me fall out. Good, right there, almost completely empty and I can feel you gripping at me, trying to pull me back in. Wait, hold it there, and let me enjoy the view.”

She held her position trying not to move. He was so close to being completely out of her she was afraid if she moved even a millimeter his cock would slip from her completely. And it was such an awkward position to hold.

He slowly eased her down and then lay back, putting his hands behind his head, propping it up to stare directly at where they were joined. “Promise you’ll keep your legs spread wide and you’ll make it good for me, but won’t cum yourself.”

He was serious; he didn’t want her to orgasm at all? She looked at him, waiting for him to look at her, to give her some indication he was kidding, but his eyes remained fixed between her legs. She took a deep breath. Fine, if that was what he wanted she would give it to him.

“I promise.” She murmured.

“Say it,” his tone was a little harsh and his words were clipped.

Her mouth had gone dry, but she could feel herself getting wetter, more aroused by his demands. “I promise to keep my legs wide open and to make this good for you.”

“And?” 

“And I promise I won’t cum.” She felt a flush of heat at saying the word. Innocuous all on its own, but in this context it made her feel dirty and aroused all at the same time.

“Then move.”

She did, legs awkwardly spread for his pleasure, her thighs burning from the unusual position. She squeezed him inside her as she rode him. His eyes never moved to look anywhere other than between her legs. It was an incredibly odd feeling.

He suddenly slapped her sharply on the ass, “Faster”.

And she complied without hesitation. She started counting to keep her mind focused on something besides the building pleasure inside of her. She’d missed this, and missed him and the feeling of him stretching her with each stroke. 

Another sharp sting in exactly the same place. “Harder”.

He was panting now, his eyes dark and still staring at the spot between her legs where he disappeared inside of her. She hoped he would climax soon. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold off her own orgasm. It felt so damn good to have him inside of her again, to feel his body beneath hers. It felt good just to be with him, in every sense of the word.

Thankfully, she didn’t have long to wait. Anders came hard and fast filling her with a copious amount of his seed. As soon as he was done he moved his hands and laid his head down with his eyes closed. “Get up,” he demanded, but it was said softly this time.

She stood and was about to step away from him when he opened his eyes. “Do you want to cum?”

She nodded, she desperately needed release.

“Okay, then stand there and pleasure yourself. Just your clit though.” A small and wicked smile was playing about his beautifully sculpted lips.

She stood there for a moment not moving. And then decided she had nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Anders was her husband.

So, she quickly used her fingers to rub her clit, bringing herself to a quick orgasm as Anders’ seed slid down the inside of her thighs. It was all rather sordid and strange. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, but her body didn’t care and she came in just a few minutes.

Anders tugged her down to the floor to lie beside him when she was done. He let her go and settled his hands on his abdomen while he stared up, seemingly at nothing. Sekhmet watched him for a few minutes trying to think of something to say or do.

Eventually, she settled on keeping it simple. “What the fuck was that?”

Anders responded immediately, “Cathartic?”

She wasn’t sure it had been cathartic; mostly it felt like a fucking mess. “There’s something really wrong with us.”

A soft sigh escaped Anders’ lips. “I know.”

She’d never had childish visions of a perfect love. But this…the two of them were a reef lurking below the waters waiting to destroy passing ships. “It doesn’t bother you?”

A vague shrug, “As long as we’re happy who cares?”

She turned to look at him, “Are we?”

He kept looking up into the air, but he sounded tired now. “Are we what?”

She moved a little closer to him, needing the answer. “Happy?”

Anders slipped his fingers between hers, holding her hand. “I love you.”

She lifted her head so she could look down at his face, “But are you happy?”

He finally looked at her, “Happier than anywhere else.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, at least not to her. “Is it enough?”

He squeezed her hand gently, “I need you.”

She turned and curled up against his chest. The two of them lay there on the cold stone for long minutes. And she thought about what he’d said. 

Was that what their relationship boiled down to, those three words? _“I need you?”_ Perhaps he was right, that was the crux of who they were. 

Regardless of what they did to each other they needed each other. She couldn’t imagine her life without him. They hurt each other, abused each other and drove each other crazy. But, they still needed each other.

It left her feeling hollow and achy inside. And only one thing she knew of fixed that. “I want to go hunting.”

Anders chuckled, a dark and not totally pleasant sound. “I know just the place.”

********

Had he forgiven her? Not exactly. But there was no point dwelling on it. There were a few inescapable facts he needed to contend with, which made it pointless.

The first being he had no intention of giving Sekhmet up. He loved her, needed her. Her having sex with Justice didn’t diminish either of those.

The second being that both he and Sekhmet had seen it coming and neither had done much to deter it. So, they were both equally to blame in that respect. 

The third being Justice himself. He had the distinct impression that if he tried to leave, Justice would only bring him back. Justice was as fixated and obsessed with Sekhmet as Anders now. Amazing how things can change in time.

While he and Sekhmet had been bathing, Justice had tentatively reached out to Anders. Curious, Anders had let his guard down. Justice hadn’t come through but Anders had been given a good look at Justice’s thoughts and feelings. 

It had reminded Anders of how childlike Justice was in some ways. The spirit had been in pain and frightened and unbearably lonely and had turned to the only person who didn’t fear him, Sekhmet. The sex had been unexpected and strange and not something the spirit seemed eager to repeat.

Justice so perfectly mirrored so many things from Anders it staggered him sometimes. The pain and loneliness, the yearning for acceptance, for…love. Anders knew what it was to live like that.

He didn’t like it, but he understood it. Having lived that life, having suffered because of what he was instead of who he was, how could he stay angry? And so, sooner or later the two of them were going to need to find a solution.

But, for now, he was getting ready for some much needed recreation. He grabbed his staff, strapping it to his back and opened the door. Sekhmet slipped out into the night in front of him, flashing him a smile as she passed.

They made their way swiftly down to the docks and Anders brought her to the tunnel he had used to guide dozens of mages to safety, including Alti. “Marcus says the Templars found it a few weeks ago and have been heavily patrolling it ever since.”

“Did they catch anyone?” Her pale blue eyes all but glowed in the moonlight.

“No, Marcus knew they were getting close and had already found another route by time they actually breeched the barrier on the other side.” He felt giddy, and strangely excited. Usually, he didn’t like hunting with Sekhmet and left it to Justice. Tonight, he thought he could use the exercise, and the mayhem.

“So, this is just a nice place for us to play?” Her eyes shimmered and her tongue flicked out to lick her lip. She was so damned cute when she was excited.

He nodded and lifted the heavy wooden door. “After you, darling.”

She smirked and headed in, “You’re too kind, my love.”

They walked quietly in the dark, him following her and doing his best to be half as quiet. He was surprised by how far they actually got before they came across any Templars. As they came to a brief widening of the tunnel they could hear several voices.

Sekhmet touched his arm, and smiled up at him. “I want to show you something.”

He arched a brow, curious. “Alright, should I wait here?”

She tugged him over a few feet, giving him a good look at the four Templars milling about but leaving him far enough back that he was still hidden from the light. She reached to the back of her belt and pulled a few knives free. How was she going to use throwing knives on armored Templars?

He didn’t have time to ask as her first knife went flying. A breath later there was a tinny grunt and one of the Templars slumped to the ground. He was followed in quick succession by the others as they looked around trying to figure out what was going on.

All four were dead before any of them had realized the true danger and even pulled their blades. Anders, feeling a bit amazed strolled into the light and looked the four Templars over. The hilt of a blade protruded from the eye slit of each.

“That’s incredible.” She’d always been good, but not that good.

“Spending time with Sebastian isn’t all drinking tea and sitting in gardens.” She smirked as she strode to each and pulled her throwing knives from their heads and their insignias pins from their armor.

“I’m sorry about all that.” But he wasn’t sorry he’d gone to get her. They’d needed each other.

She nodded and started moving up the corridor, “I’d ask that you trust me, but I guess I’ve kind of lost that right at this point.”

“Its not about…” her? Oh, it very much was. It was about her and his possibly unhealthy obsession with her. “I’ll always be jealous. You could be at my side for centuries, always faithful, and I would still resent any man that looked at you for too long.”

She giggled, “After centuries they’d only be looking in shock and disgust.”

“I guess I’ll just have to learn how to stop aging. That should be something a healer can do right? I mean, age is like a slow disease.” He smiled, although in the dark he knew she couldn’t see it.

“You mean you haven’t already? Andraste’s tits Anders, you look exactly the same now as you did the day we met. Well…a little more meat on your bones now, but you haven’t aged at all.” She sounded almost jealous.

“Neither have you.” She was still incredibly beautiful.

“I appreciate the flattery dear, but I’m finding new lines all the time.” She paused cocking her head.

She obviously heard something so Anders was silent, but he couldn’t make anything out. He watched her as best he could in the dark, catching glimpses of her face as she turned her head this way and that, eyes closed, listening. He found himself wondering what she would look like as an old woman. 

Would he ever get to find out? It seemed rather unlikely. With their lives either one or both of them was bound not to make it. Not to mention, he had that pesky taint hanging over his head, counting down to insanity and death in the Deep Roads. It filled him with sadness. He very much wanted to see her covered in wrinkles, withered hand holding his.

He couldn’t picture himself old though. Just kept seeing his hand the way it was now holding her aged one. Her skin papery and thin, veins clearly showing through it with age spots. He shook his head trying to dislodge the image. He didn’t like it, not at all. It seemed wrong, and…something…just not good.

“Do you want to sneak up on them like last time or do you want to fight this time?” She’d opened her eyes and was watching him intently.

“I could use a fight, how about you?” The thought of beating the tar out of a Templar seemed very appealing right now. “How about this, no magic and no throwing knives?”

She smiled, a wide dangerous looking grin. “Careful, I might just be overcome with lust and take you right here in the tunnels.”

He smirked, was it a wonder he loved her so? “Feel free to ravage me, anywhere you desire, _after_ we dispatch the Templars.”

“Anywhere? Even a table in the middle of the Hanged Man?”

“If that’s truly your wish and you think Corff can afford to lose that many paying customers.”

“Lose? Are you kidding they would be pouring in off the streets to watch!”

“And sadly, your naked flesh would be the last thing they ever see.”

“Anders!”

He shrugged, “I told you, I’ll always be jealous.”

She shook her head and pulled her daggers free. “Ready?”

“Always, my love, always.” He pulled his staff from his back and followed her into the large cavern ahead of them.

What came next was screams and clanging metal. Anders’ heart was racing as the first Templar came at him. He swung the staff and connected solidly with the Templar’s helm. The Templar crumpled to his feet and Anders was already focusing on the next one.

There had to be at least a dozen different Templars in the room. Why so many clustered all together? No matter, their mistake would end in their deaths.

It had been a while since he’d practiced fighting without magic. He was pleased to see he hadn’t lost too much of his skill. Maybe he should brush up like this more often.

He’d catch sight of Sekhmet every so often, giggling madly as her daggers spun in vicious circles. Each time his heart swelled and he found himself grinning. The woman was mad, and brilliant, and utterly adorable, even covered in gore.

He turned just as another Templar charged at him. The metal clad man stumbled to a stop, “Anders?” Anders didn’t recognize the voice, they all sounded alike in those helms. But the man obviously knew him as he suddenly bellowed, “Mage,” at the top of his lungs before Anders silenced him with a kick to the chin snapping the troublesome man’s neck.

Now that there seemed to be an enemy they knew the remaining Templars turned en masse towards Anders. He had a brief moment to think about how truly fucked he was and then the first smite hit him. He rode it out easily enough, but it didn’t stop there. 

He took the brunt of four smites in all and even with all of Anders’ training it still knocked him to his knees, shaking and panting and nauseous. His head was swimming. Move, he had to move or they would kill him.

_“Let me,”_ Justice’s voice was strong and clear, a beacon of light in the murky waters of Anders’ head.

Anders let go; Justice was his best chance to survive. A swirl of smoke and sky blue fire and Anders just watched through his eyes as Justice stood, easily. The smite seemed to have no effect on Justice at all.

A half hysterical voice sang in his head, _“You better run now, boys. Justice is going to get you.”_ He laughed to himself, not making a sound. How could he? He was no longer in control of his body.

“Nobody escapes, Justice.” Sekhmet called out. Was that relief in her voice? Relief that Anders was now safe, or relief at seeing Justice?

“Understood.” Justice could have killed them all with a single spell but seemed to be keeping to the rules Anders had set. Or maybe he couldn’t access magic either because of the smites. Either way the spirit seemed to enjoy pummeling the Templars and snapping their necks.

At last there were only two. One that was clearly a coward, he hadn’t run away but he hadn’t directly engaged in the fighting either. And one slowly dying Templar that Sekhmet had been tormenting for a while.

Justice moved forward swiftly and grabbed the last Templar around his throat. He squeaked and scrabbled at his helmet. Anders found that odd; shouldn’t he be trying to pry the hands from his throat? It wasn’t as if his helmet was choking him.

It tumbled from his head and Anders thought the red hair looked vaguely familiar. With his face uncovered he finally started trying to pry Justice’s fingers free. It was an impossible task. The Templar’s mouth was working as he slowly turned purple but no sound escaped his lips.

Suddenly, Sekhmet’s voice half in a panic cried out in the room, echoing around the stone walls. “Stop!”


	72. Heroes and Villains of All Shapes and Sizes

Sekhmet had turned in time to see Justice holding Ser Thrask aloft, slowly strangling the life from him. “Justice, put him down.”

“Are you sure?” But he was already lowering the man to the ground.

“Yes, thank you.” She walked over to check on Thrask who was kneeling and coughing. “Are you alright?”

He nodded and sat heavily back on his heels. His voice was harsh and a little strained as he spoke. “A little closer than I like, but I’ll live.”

“I thought you were sticking to the Gallows?” She was surprised to find she was rather upset that the Templar had nearly died.

“You were pregnant. I thought it would be safe.” His eyes swept over her questioningly.

It was like tearing open a wound that had barely started to heal. “I…lost it.”

Thrask pushed himself to his feet. “Maker’s mercy, it wasn’t one of ours was it? I swear by Andraste if it was I’ll find and kill the beast myself.”

“No, nothing like that. I was home when it happened.” She shrugged not sure what else to say, not daring to say more for fear she would lose her grip on her grief.

“You know she hunts your kind?” Justice interjected, staring at the man curiously.

Thrask nodded faintly, “Not in precisely those terms, but I am aware of how dangerous leaving the Gallows can be for my brethren.” Thrask stepped closer, “So, he’s possessed?”

“Thrask,” It was a sharp warning. She wasn’t sure what she would do, but she couldn’t let Thrask risk Anders’ life.

He turned to her, “Don’t worry lass. I’m not half so foolish as to cross the likes of you. Besides, the other Templars would kill me on principle alone for failing to kill an abomination. You seem to have tamed him well enough. I know how much your Anders hates Templars, yet the demon stopped when you commanded him.”

“Commanded? Oh, no, no, no, it’s nothing like that. Justice is a Fade Spirit and very much in charge of himself.” She watched Justice hoping he wouldn’t be too offended by Thrask’s statements.

The Templar walked slowly around Justice, “A Fade Spirit? Are you sure? He seemed rather more like a demon to me.”

“I had to protect Anders. Your brethren, as you call them, meant to leave him defenseless. Perhaps it is merely the fact that they were unable to do so that turns your mind to demons.” Justice watched Thrask but didn’t seem interested in hurting him, at least so far.

Thrask stopped back in front of Justice, closer than before, “Yes, about that. That first smite didn’t even slow him down. How is that?”

“Do you truly think I would reveal anything of Anders to you? You are his enemy.” Justice snarled.

“Not his enemy, but I understand your hesitation.” He moved back a few steps and an odd grin touched his lips. “A Fade Spirit and an apostate working together, fascinating.” He looked to Sekhmet. “You weren’t surprised when this…spirit took control of the apostate’s body. So, clearly this is fairly common. Are you sure your Anders isn’t being controlled by the spirit?”

She nodded, “Yes, very sure. Anders still has free will.”

“Simply astounding, we’re led to believe no such thing is possible. That once a mage is possessed it has no free will and is just a monster. And his flesh is not mangled and twisted either.” He shook his head sadly, “Of course, we’re also told it’s only demons that crossed the veil seeking a vessel.”

“In most cases that is true. I was trapped outside the Fade, Anders chose to help me.” Justice was still wary, Sekhmet was surprised he had told Thrask even that much. 

“And does this,” he gestured to Anders’ body and the cracks in his skin, “when you take control, does it cause him pain?” Thrask seemed fascinated with Justice.

Justice responded quickly, “No, he has assured me he feels nothing.” 

Thrask nodded, “Thank you for indulging my curiosity. It was…interesting to meet you, Justice was it?”

Justice nodded.

Thrask turned to look at her, “You can’t imagine how this pains me. I would very much like to get to know this Fade Spirit. But, we have to get you away before the next watch comes.” He sighed, “And we need a plausible way for me to have survived while you absconded.”

“I can try to have Anders knock you out. I grabbed some lyrium just in case. I don’t know if it will be enough or not.” She reached into her pouch.

“Hold your lyrium; this would be better if it was done without magic. They’ll have Orsino heal me. He’ll likely be able to sense the Fade on me but so far there has been no magic. I can tell them it was the undead and demons. There are more than enough old bones down here to make it plausible. Hopefully, they’ll think we stumbled across something left by the mages before we took over the tunnel.”

“So, what do we do to keep you out of trouble?” How was she going to incapacitate him temporarily?

“Perhaps I can help?” 

Sekhmet spun; she hadn’t been expecting Anders’ voice. Apparently, Justice had relinquished control and she hadn’t even noticed. He looked terrible, pale and sweating like he was sick. “How?”

Anders bit his bottom lip briefly and staggered back a step. “I can tell you where to cut him to make his limbs useless without too much bleeding. Orsino should be able to patch him up easily enough.”

“I can do that, remember?” Perhaps it wasn’t fair to expect him to remember such a thing right now. He looked dreadful. She turned back to Thrask, “Will that work?”

He nodded though he looked a touch worried, “Maybe I’ll get lucky and pass out from the pain.”

“I’ll be right back.” She moved to Anders and walked him a bit away from Thrask. Carefully, she helped him to sit. “Just stay here. I’ll be right back.” She took the flask of lyrium from her pouch and set it in his hand.

“I can’t,” he shivered and grimaced, “I’ll drink some later.”

She knelt in front of him, the man was so stubborn. Did he really think he had anything to hide from her? “I already know you’re little lyrium secret. And Thrask is going to be otherwise occupied. Drink the damn thing and shut up.”

“So, I take it Thrask is your contact in the Gallows?” He was stalling.

“Would I have spared him otherwise?” 

“I suppose not.” He mumbled.

“Drink it, Anders. I mean it.” And now that she remembered what happened to him after Meredith smited him, and the rest of the square, she added, “It probably won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.” She stood; she needed to get back to Thrask.

He nodded vaguely and started to pull the cork out. She nearly reached out and did it for him he was shaking so much. It was hard to see him like that. If those damn Templars were alive she’d kill them all over again. 

She left Anders to handle it, knowing he would resent it if she tried to help. And poor Thrask was waiting for her, still looking a little uneasy. “If you can think of another way, tell me now. I’ll gladly do it.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps I should sit.”

She waited for him to sit and crouched down in front of him. She tried telling herself it was just another Templar, but Thrask had helped them save many mages over the years, warned her about traps the Templars were trying to set up and even passed along rumors he thought might be useful. Templar or not, he had been an ally.

But she was the Hawke, she did what she needed to survive, to make sure those in her care survived. She could try to make it a little easier though. She pulled off the cleaner of her two gloves and handed it to Thrask.

“What’s that for?” His voice was tight.

“So you don’t scream or swallow your tongue.” She’d show him what compassion she could, but they both needed to get this done and quickly.

He eyed it distastefully for a second then put it in his mouth and bit down. She reached forward, gripped his leg by the ankle and swiftly cut the tendons behind his knee. Thrask screeched into the glove but she didn’t pause.

She kept going, four cuts and one stab wound in all. She did her best to make them look targeted but slightly messy, as if her target had been moving and struggling not sitting still. She stabbed him through his shoulder because he had no other injuries besides the finger bruises around his throat. 

When she was done she gently laid Thrask down on the ground and moved his limbs to make it look like he’d fallen in battle. His eyes were rolling wildly and she knew she was going to lose him to unconsciousness any second. She took her glove from between his still clenched teeth.

“Thrask can you hear me?”

He nodded slowly.

“Your neck is bruising. You can tell them they choked you and you must have passed out. I’m sorry about this.” She stood and watched him for a moment, that was all it took for unconsciousness to overtake him.

She hoped the next watch was coming soon. She hated leaving Thrask there alone and injured. He might be a Templar, but he was mostly a good man.

Quickly, she hacked at a few other Templar’s bodies in a similar manner to how she attacked Thrask. It wouldn’t do for his injuries to be completely different. Knowing Meredith, she’d likely blame mages no matter what, but Sekhmet wanted to try to keep suspicion off Thrask, especially, if he was to continue helping her and Anders.

She walked back to where Anders was looking at least a little better. He stood on his own and though he couldn’t walk a very straight line he at least managed not to fall down. They climbed out of the tunnels and made their way to Lowtown.

“Let’s get you to the Hanged Man. You can sit and recover a bit.” She started to try to steer him towards the tavern.

“Take me home.” She could hear how tired he was in his voice.

“It would be better if you rested a little.” He’d started leaning on her for support again and it was wearing her out.

“Dammit Sekhmet, I said to take me home.” He growled.

“Alright, fine.” The last thing they needed to do was attract attention after dark in Lowtown. She just hoped she managed to get him back to the estate before he collapsed completely.

Anders was leaning on her more and more heavily as they made their way towards the estate. Halfway up the stairs to Hightown he sat down on the steps, pulling lightly on her hand. She walked close to him and let out a surprised gasp when he pulled her down onto his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, brushing a stray hair from her cheek.

She smiled, “It’s alright, take your time. You’re very comfortable to sit on.”

He smiled briefly but it melted quickly, “Not for this, well this too. But, I’m so sorry…for what I said.”

“Are we really going to talk about this here and now?” She had no desire to talk about it at all.

“Need to do it now, before I’m too tired to even talk.” His eyes were still over bright from drinking the lyrium but fatigue was clearly taking him over.

She shrugged; she didn’t want to talk about it. Mostly, she wanted to forget it ever happened. “You were right, I was unfaithful. Let’s just forget about it.”

He turned her face to look at him, “No, we’re not going to forget about it. I never should have said that, ever. I don’t care if…it happened a hundred times. It’s not alright, Sekhmet. Do you hear me?” 

She could tell it was important to him, he was speaking so earnestly. “Okay, Anders.”

“No, not just okay. Do you understand?” He traced his thumb along her jaw. “This is one of those things that has been an issue between you and I for far too long.” He shook his head, “I’ve wished a thousand times that you would stop thinking of yourself that way. And then I add to it.” He sighed heavily, “Why do you stay with me? We both know there are men far better that I who could cherish you properly.”

She suppressed the urge to smile. While she may not think very highly of herself neither did he. His constant self degradation was probably why he was so jealous. For whatever bizarre reason he thought he wasn’t good enough for her.

“It’s you I need.” That word again…she’d meant to say love. 

He must have seen her surprise because he smiled softly and kissed her fingertips. “I love you, too.” 

Maybe that was why their relationship was so odd. They needed each other, though the exact reasons weren’t clear. And, they both treated the need, the drive inside them, as if it was love. 

Not that there wasn’t love. They both loved each other fiercely. But times like now it felt as if the need was the stronger of the two forces.

“Are we okay?” After everything the last few weeks had put them through she didn’t want to make any assumptions.

He kissed her cheek, “We will be.” 

She wondered how he could be so sure. But, she needed it to be true, so she believed him. Somehow, they would be alright.

He sighed, “Help me to my feet. We need to get back to the estate.”

She helped him up, and he walked slowly and awkwardly up the rest of the steps, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They swayed heavily back and forth with each step. She tried her best to keep him from toppling over completely. Of course, if he fell she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to do much other than to fall down with him.

“Fucking Templars.” He grumbled as they finally reached the top.

“We’re almost there, do you need a break?” She didn’t want to push him too much. He was always so patient with her.

“Not sure if we can risk it. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake. I’m so tired my body is giving up on me. We better keep going.” He lurched forward.

When they got to the estate she’d barely touched the door knob when the door jerked open. And a scowling Bodahn glared at the two of them. “Where have you two been?”

Sekhmet looked at Anders wondering if he had any clue why Bodahn was acting so odd. When he shrugged she turned back to the dwarf. “What’s wrong?” Maybe something had happened at the estate while they were gone.

Whatever it was she just hoped it had already been dealt with. Anders wasn’t the only one who was tired now. Who knew half carrying a man twice your size was so exhausting?

“What’s wrong?” Bodahn threw his hands in the air and turned around stomping back into the estate. “You two have barely spoken in weeks. Then I hear all sorts of strange noises coming from the foyer of all places. I come rushing in to find out what’s going on and the two of you are rolling around on the floor. I couldn’t tell if you were making up or trying to kill each other so I went back to my rooms and prayed to the Ancestors you two would come to your senses.

“When the noise died down I came back to see if you two had gotten your heads out of your asses just to find the estate empty. I’ve been waiting for hours, worried about what might have happened to the two of you. Or if you had gotten into some sort of trouble in the streets.”

He shook his head, “There was a time when I warranted being told where you were headed, or at least a note.” He’d berated them as he marched back into the estate and headed towards his rooms. He stopped before leaving their sight. “Now, get your asses to bed, together. You could both use some sleep.”

Wow, Sekhmet hadn’t even noticed him come into the foyer earlier, but she was more focused on Anders and their strange little…romp. Maybe they should have told Bodahn they were going out. Honestly, she was so glad Anders was getting out of the estate she hadn’t thought about it. “We’re sorry Bodahn. It won’t happen again.”

He snorted, “Yes, it will. Now, go.” He started shooing them towards the steps.

She took a half step back and then stopped. The idea of asking the irate dwarf a favor was not terribly appealing, but she needed his help. “Uh, Bodahn, I hate to bother you.”

And just like that, his anger seemed to be gone and he was eager to help. “No, no, what do you need?”

She gestured to Anders who still leaning against her. “Anders was smited while we were out. Could you run to the clinic and get a few lyrium potions.”

His eyes widened, “Why didn’t you say so. I’ll be right back, messere. You get him up to bed. Do you need a hand?”

“No, thank you. We’ll manage.” At least there was a railing here she could use for support. She steered Anders towards the staircase.

Bodahn was already disappearing from sight. Getting Anders upstairs was a bigger challenge than she’d anticipated. He was right; he was getting weaker and weaker. 

“Anders, are you alright?” 

His skin was grey and he was sweating terribly. “I’ll be fine. Been a while since I was smited like that. I’m going to need a bit of sleep. Don’t worry.” He sat heavily in the chair near the fire. “Help me out of my armor?”

She tried not to worry about him repeating himself and started to help him with his armor. She ended up doing most of the work, as Anders was fading fast. Apparently, the lyrium he’d drank earlier was wearing off. 

Bodahn returned with an armful of lyrium potions just as Sekhmet finished helping Anders into the bed. The dwarf smiled and set the potions on the bedside table. “Isn’t that better than that dreadful chair?”

Anders gave him a weak smile. “Yes, it certainly is, and I forgot to thank you earlier.”

Bodahn nodded, “Just doing my job, ser.” He started heading out of the room and stopped with his hand on the knob, “Orana will be up shortly with a tray. Make sure he eats something before he sleeps.”

Sekhmet smiled, “I will, thank you.” She’d nearly forgotten Anders needed to eat. It was a good thing the two of them had Bodahn to take care of them. 

She decided to talk to Anders to keep him awake until Orana came up with the food. “So, what were you thanking Bodahn for?”

Anders smiled faintly, “He just reminded me of what was important.”

She raised a curious brow, “Like?”

His eyes closed like they were too heavy to hold open. “Can we talk after I’ve slept?”

“Of course,” she was curious but he really did look awful. 

A knock at the door pulled her attention away. Sekhmet pulled open the door, Orana stood on the other side holding a tray and looking half terrified. Did the girl think she was in trouble? Honestly, it was the first time she could remember seeing Orana in weeks.

“Just set the tray on Anders’ lap.” Sekhmet turned and headed for the bathing chamber. She needed to fill the ewer with water so she could wash at least some of the blood off Anders’ face and hands before he went to sleep.

When she came back with the filled ewer in hand Orana was setting down the tray and shaking badly. As soon as she set it down she seemed ready to flee. Anders gripped the trembling elf’s wrist. She cried out in fear.

Sekhmet briefly thought the elf was distressed by the blood on Anders’ hands before she realized how ridiculous that was. Besides the fact that she saw plenty of blood in the Hawke estate she had been a slave to a Tevinter magister before coming to Kirkwall. So, what was the girl’s problem?

“Shh, Orana. It’s alright.” Anders gave her a soft and very tired looking smile. “I cry your pardon, milady. I have a feeling I own you a very big apology.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Please my dearest lady, can you ever find it in your sweet and generous heart to forgive such an awful wretch as me?”

Sekhmet just watched the two of them, amused. The man was amazing sometimes. Orana had been shaking and terrified a few moments ago. And now she was smiling and blushing. 

“Master Anders,” she giggled covering her mouth, every inch the blushing maiden.

“I am truly fit to be no one’s master. Tell me what I can do, kind and beautiful maiden, to earn your forgiveness.” Sekhmet could see the strain in Anders’ eyes. But he was playing the charming and contrite gentleman very well.

“Messere, please.” She might have been protesting but she was obviously appreciating Anders’ little display.

“Please fairest of ladies, I beseech you to forgive me any offense I may have caused you.”

Orana giggled again.

He took a deep breath, tension at the corners of his eyes increasing just the slightest. “Please mistress, say that I am forgiven. I cannot go on another moment if you will not forgive me.”

If Orana didn’t forgive him and get out of there soon Sekhmet was going to have to throw the girl out. Anders couldn’t take much more of this and he wouldn’t want Orana to see him pass out. 

The slim eleven girl was grinning from ear to ear, “Alright, messere Anders, you are forgiven.”

He kissed her knuckles. “Thank you, sweet maiden. I can finally rest now that I know I have been forgiven. You’re most kind.”

He let her hand go and Orana turned slowly to leave. When she caught sight of Sekhmet she blushed deep crimson and fled from the room. Sekhmet chuckled and closed the door behind her.

“You and that silver tongue of yours. Is there anything you can’t talk your way out of?” She settled on the bed beside him.

“Your life,” he looked at her with a soft smile, “no matter what I said you refused to go.” He caressed her cheek, “And I’m so glad.”

She shook her head, amused that he was being so sweet still. Gods knew she didn’t need it, but it was nice every once in a while. She grabbed a lyrium potion from the bedside table and pulled the cork, “Here, and save your charms. You won me over a long time ago.”

He took the flask but didn’t drink from it right away. “Perhaps, but I also nearly lost you to my own idiocy.”

“Drink the damned flask, Anders.” She rolled her eyes, “You still need to eat something.”

He drank it down and gave her a tired looking smile. “I like it when you yell at me.”

“You really have lost your mind, haven’t you?” She began to clean his face of blood spatters.

He was grinning up at her, “You wouldn’t yell if you didn’t still love me.”

She kissed him then picked up an apple wedge and stuck it in his mouth. “I wouldn’t yell if you just did what I told you. I can love you without yelling, you know.”

She cleaned his hands quickly and then stripped off her armor as he ate and drank another lyrium potion. She ignored his shudders as he drank the liquid as well as the blissful sigh. She knew the reaction was fueled by Justice’s fondness for lyrium and that it embarrassed Anders.

He ate a fair bit of food before he started nodding off so she just moved the tray and let him lie down to rest. She watched him for a bit and finished up the food on the tray. It was enough to satisfy her so she didn’t have to go scrounging around in the kitchen in the middle of the night. She stripped and cleaned herself off before climbing into bed beside Anders.

He immediately pulled her close and curled around her, tucking her against his chest. She’d nearly forgotten how tightly he tended to hold her in his sleep. 

********

The rain was falling in torrents; Anders closed his eyes and leaned his head against the glass of the window. The steady drumming of the rain soothed him a little as did the cool glass against his skin. He still wasn’t recovered from his run in with the Templars earlier.

Nausea had a firm grip on him and he was exhausted beyond measure. Sickly sweat still clung to his skin and his limbs felt weak. He hated this feeling, nothing but a gnawing emptiness where his magic should be. It would likely be hours yet before the first flickers of his magic returned.

He should have easily slept the night through, especially after being smited like that. But, nightmares don’t care about should, they don’t care about what you really need. Then infest your sleep and utterly destroy it on any night they choose.

They’d ripped him from his much needed slumber, from the bed he was sharing for the first time in weeks with the woman he loved. And the nightmares had been bad tonight, not just dreams of hurting her, his darling Sekhmet, or dreams of horrific Darkspawn. No, tonight had been a bitch of a nightmare where he was long past his Calling, more of a beast than a man. 

The madness of it had driven him to drag her, his luminous lioness, into the Deep Roads with him. He shuddered even now thinking about forcing her to live under those miles of stone in the dark with him. And taking her there had only been the beginning of his nightmare.

He had tainted her and was unable to do anything but watch as she slowly suffered and died. Her alabaster skin turned grey and became covered in dark blotches. The veins running beneath her nearly translucent skin turned black as the taint worked its way through her. Even her crystalline blue eyes lost their luster and turned dark.

Half mad, yet still desperate not to lose her he tried to heal her. But his magic failed him utterly. And the Spirit of Compassion, the beautiful forgiving Solace, who had helped him heal for decades, had completely abandoned him. 

He took care of Sekhmet the best he could in his maddened state, in the crushing confines of the Deep Roads. It amounted to not much more than remaining by her side, which he couldn’t help but do anyway. His obsession with her had become the worst kind of curse.

When at last she died, cradled in his arms and his name on her lips he had longed for death. Without her his life was truly over, even Justice had fallen silent with her loss. He was a useless shell, rotting slowly in the dark.

But still, for some reason, Anders was unable to die. In the dream he tried again and again to end his life, to no avail. His magic had no effect when he tried to turn it against himself. And when he tried to use her blades they seemed to pass through him without injuring him at all. It was too cruel to be borne.

He had lived and lived and lived alone in the dark silence of the Deep Roads. He had carefully collected her ashes and put them in his canteen. He kept it tucked tight against him at all times. 

Still, it didn’t seem to be close enough. On several occasions his deranged dream self had thought of mixing her ashes with water so he could actually take her into him. The dream’s one small mercy had been that he had never gone that far.

The Darkspawn left him alone, he was apparently tainted enough not to warrant their attention. He no longer seemed to need sustenance or sleep. His life became one long, ongoing, lonely night. The walls always felt like they were closing in, yet they wouldn’t crush him and end his ceaseless torment.

He’d awoken covered in sickly sweat, with tears having slid into his hairline and running down the side of his nose. He was clutching Sekhmet even tighter than usual against him. Mercifully, his dream hadn’t awakened her as they often did. 

He had slipped from their bed, a bed he still had trouble believing he belonged in especially given his behavior as of late, and headed to the window. Perhaps, he should be downstairs working on his manifesto. He’d neglected it for weeks, but right now he just felt too raw. His heart ached and he desperately wanted Sekhmet, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. 

There had been far too many nights that she’d slept only fitfully while he sat rigidly in the chair, not allowing himself the luxury of her bed. Even before that his nightmares had awakened her all too often. Or, sometimes, he had simply felt too alone in the predawn hours and had needed to wake her up. And if it wasn’t him dragging her from sleep her own dreams tormented and woke her. 

It seemed they spent more time rehashing nightmares in that bed than they actually spent sleeping in it. As he glanced at the bed a thought percolated through his mind. Justice had shared sleepless nights with her in that bed as well. And it wasn’t all the spirit had done in that bed with her.

Pain gripped him like a vise clamping around his heart. He looked back out the window watching the rain, willing it to wash away the pain. It was going to take time for that to stop hurting so much. 

He felt a tear slip down his cheek and quickly wiped it away. He climbed up onto the wide sill of the window. Pushing the window open he took a deep breath of fresh air, the smell of rain pleasant.

His held out his hand, letting the rain flow over it. Thick drops of rain were quickly soaking his clothes but he didn’t care. Shifting, he hung his legs out the window and turned his face up to the sky.

Alright, so he had to admit, at least to himself, that her having sex with Justice hurt. He knew she hadn’t done it to hurt him, but it didn’t change how it felt. It felt like a betrayal by both of them.

He let the tears he’d been fighting for hours go. He sobbed, silently in the dark. The rain washing away the evidence of his heartache as quickly as it appeared on his cheeks.

How could she and Justice do that to him and still claim to love him? He almost wished she had never told him. If it really was never going to happen again, perhaps it would have been better if he had never known at all.

The tears weren’t enough, not to purge the pain and anger flowing through him. It threatened to spill over. He climbed, sopping wet, back into the room and walked quietly across the floor to grabbed four lyrium potions. 

He carried them back to the window and climbed back up onto the sill, hanging his legs out again. Getting the cork out was tricky with his fingers so wet, but he pulled two out and downed the potions one after another. He waited a moment to see if he could feel a spark of magic.

The minutes ticked by slowly and he nearly screamed in frustration when he felt nothing other than the echo of Justice’s pleasure. And even that was a torture. Justice’s damn pleasure was part of the reason he felt like this.

He drank the remaining two, desperately hoping for even a glimmer of his magic. And that was exactly what he got, just a little glimmer. That and the sick, rather drunk feeling that told him he’d had too much lyrium today.

He didn’t care. He pulled on the thin string of magic and cast a silence spell around himself. Climbing up until he was standing in the window he screamed out into the dark. 

Gripping the top of the window panes he leaned out and screamed again and again, raw, deep, broken sounds. Pain, anger, frustration, he willed it out into those guttural noises tearing from his lips. He felt Justice recoiling inside him, and felt a small moment of satisfaction at the spirit’s uneasiness.

Rain fell in fat, heavy drops on his face as his tears started to roll free again. It beat against his body as he bellowed his fear and agony into the night. He screamed until his voice started going hoarse.

Exhaustion was starting to catch up to him and he sat heavily back down on the sill. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, warm against his now cold and very wet skin. He was soaked completely through and a large puddle was on the floor inside the window, not to mention the trail through the room from earlier.

Tired and weary he leaned his head against the window and tried to find some peace. The idea made him laugh; a mad little giggle escaped him. “Are you happy Justice? I think you finally managed to make me completely mad.”

He felt Justice stirring, ready to answer.

“No, leave me alone.” He snapped. What he wouldn’t give to be separated from the spirit right now. The spirit recoiled and Anders felt a mean pleasure. He knew it was petty but couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment.

He glanced back at Sekhmet sleeping in their bed. It felt tainted now, dirty. He was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep in that bed, not tonight, not ever again.

Climbing back into the room he shut the window and peeled off his soaking wet trousers and the tunic he’d fallen asleep in. He briefly considered finding something else to wear but decided he was too tired. He dispelled the silence still surrounding him and shuffled towards the bed.

“Sekhmet?” He called softly.

As always she bolted up, dagger clutched in one hand, “What’s wrong?”

Suddenly, he felt ridiculous. “Uh…”

She climbed out of the bed, “Anders, you’re soaking wet. Come sit by the fire.” She took his hand and pulled him over towards the dying embers of the fire. 

She pushed him down gently into the chair and went to the bathing chamber. She returned with a towel and started drying him off. “What were you doing?”

“I needed some air.” It was such a ridiculous response, but what could he say to her? 

“Dreams, or…” She didn’t say it, but he knew what she was referring to.

“Both,” he admitted.

She just nodded her head and kept toweling him dry. She was careful with his hair and then sat back on her heels. “Ready to try to sleep again?”

He nodded, “But not here.”

“Okay, where would you like to sleep?” She didn’t even give him a funny look, just accepted that he wanted to sleep elsewhere. 

He stood up carefully; he was feeling more and more unsteady. He desperately hoped he managed to sleep this time. Slipping his hand into hers he led her into the hall and then into the next room.

“Lay down, I should get a fire going.”

He was about to protest but realized he was shivering and what little magic he’d had was gone again. He climbed in between the clean sheets Bodahn had put on the bed earlier and waited for her to join him. It only took her a few minutes but he was still half asleep by time she climbed in beside him.

“I’m going to burn your mattress tomorrow.” He murmured, his voice raspy and rough sounding from his rough treatment of it.

“It’s our mattress. It's where we were together for the first time, where we’ve slept together for months.” She sounded a little upset by the idea.

“Not anymore, you fucked another man in it. I never want to see it again.” He had to concentrate on his words so he didn’t slur them. He just hoped they made as much sense out loud as they did in his head.

She as quiet for a moment and Anders nearly apologized. He hadn’t meant to hurt her or upset her. He was too tired and his mind lacked all tact right now, his gifted tongue failed him.

She inhaled slowly and spoke calmly. “Alright. I’ll commission a new mattress tomorrow and in the meantime we can sleep in here.” 

At least she wasn’t arguing with him. “Good, come here.” 

She snuggled up close to him and he wrapped his arms around her. He inhaled her scent deeply, Maker he’d missed the smell of her. With her firmly in his embrace he let slumber claim him.


	73. A Moment's Peace

Months had passed them by, yet to Sekhmet it seemed like it had only been moments since she had confessed to Anders. They never spoke about it again, but it was never very far from either of their thoughts. She could see it in the flicker of pain behind Anders’ eyes when he looked at her sometimes. She felt it every time he cursed in frustration that he hadn’t been able to re-establish the magical connection between them. 

And when Justice wasn’t haunting them it was the lingering sadness of the child they had lost. Sometimes it felt as if they were both swimming against an unrelenting current, trying to get back to each other. There were no fights, no yelling, no condemnation, just an un-crossable gulf between them. 

She sighed and rolled to her side, the chasm between them even present in their bed. Anders was sleeping beside her, not clutching her to his chest like he used to. It hurt that he rarely held her while he slept anymore. 

Their lives were so different now, so wordlessly complicated. Justice had become a daily part of their new reality. She could only guess that Anders and Justice had made some sort of agreement to share her. And she didn’t know whether to be thankful or worried.

So far, Justice spent at least an hour a day with her, without fail, but never much more than that. Sometimes the two of them spent the time just talking, sometime he insisted on hunting together. And while Justice was affectionate with her there was never anything sexual behind his touches. 

It was comfortable and familiar and she couldn’t deny that she truly enjoyed their time together. Or at least enjoyed it as much as she could. Worry over Anders always managed to creep in at least a little.

And though her darling Anders never complained she knew he still struggled with his jealousy about Justice. Whenever he took control back from Justice he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Touches and kisses, caresses and whispers until she couldn’t take it anymore and they made love.

Or tried to make love. It was difficult when there was so much tied up into it. She tried not to think of it as a false intimacy, but sometimes it felt like he was just staking his claim on her.

Sex had become a means to an end for Anders. He used it to try to forge a connection between them. She found him pressing her for sex not for the joy of it, but out of a need for a deeper intimacy he couldn’t seem to find without his magic.

He’d ply her with heated touches not just after Justice retreated but even after a particularly bloody fight with the Templars. He’d use his body to try to speak for him when he had a dream he couldn’t put into words. He’d reach for her, desperate for any sort of bond when he felt alone. 

It always ended disappointingly for him. The mechanical actions couldn’t replace the connection his magic had once forged between them. And each time he failed to reestablish the connection he became more distraught. 

His smiles were fewer and farther between while he became more withdrawn and sullen, moodier. She missed him being spontaneous and playful, not just with their love making but in everything. Pressing her eyes together she willed the tears back. Anders was changing and there was only one thing she’d been able to think of that might save him. 

Opening her eyes she reached out, gently stroking his hair. He shifted slightly in his sleep and she pulled her hand back not wanting to wake him, or stir Justice. As much as she hated to admit it, the less time Justice was in control of Anders, the better things were between her and Anders. 

He didn’t like talking about Justice so she kept her mouth shut about it. But, she worried for the two men in her life. Anders spent less and less time in the clinic. He seemed to have lost his passion for healing.

And perhaps as a result both Justice and Anders were becoming more and more violent with Templars. Anders hunted with her as often as Justice did. Her sweet mage had found a new joy in it. 

Should she be grateful he seemed to enjoy it so much, or to be concerned about the pleasure he suddenly derived from dealing in such bloody death? The man she loved had become as ruthless and angry as she was with the Templars. He took obvious pleasure in killing them without his magic. 

And there were more than a few nights he came back from a hunt bloodied, grinning and carrying more insignia pins than her. The times he gripped her, crashing his lips over hers after a hunt were the times he displayed the most passion. She learned to be grateful for his smiles during their hunts, even as gruesome and blood spattered as they might be.

Not that she had any room to speak. She thoroughly enjoyed their vicious nature where Templars were concerned. She reveled in it. In a way, it made her feel better about her own blood thirsty nature.

Occasionally, she felt a pang of guilt as the Templars they came across seemed younger and younger. They’d joined the order, hoping for chances at heroism after the Qunari attacked the city. Youthful faces, full of promise, swept up in ridiculous fantasies of what it was to be a hero.

They were possessed of a singular religious zeal after the attack on Kirkwall. She could even see the spark of madness in some of them, or at least she imagined she could. And their senior Templars were not being overly diligent in those they allowed to join, looking to bolster their dwindling ranks. 

No, the older Templars were too busy trying to save themselves. No doubt they hid within the Gallows’ walls sending out the young and naïve to fall to their death under her blades.

The Templars still had no real leads on who was hunting them. She, Anders, and Justice always made sure that no one that saw them lived. And the residents of Kirkwall were smart enough to lock themselves inside when darkness fell each night. 

They didn’t hunt quite so often now, anyway. Sekhmet and Anders spent a lot of time working jobs for the Mage Underground. With Meredith cracking down harder and harder on mages they needed more help than ever. They were able to get fewer and fewer mages out of the city, but were inundated with requests to help families get out because the Templars were harassing and threatening them.

She watched as Anders slid down a slope of anger and fury. Sometimes she worried it was filling all the empty spaces Goath and her betrayal had left. Anders was much changed even though he tried hard not to show it. 

Some of it was easy enough to dismiss. He was far more sullen and moody than a few months ago, but so was she. How could they not be considering what they had experienced? 

Other changes were not so easy to ignore. Although he didn’t often hold her in sleep the way he once had, he never liked her very far from him. Even within the confines of the estate he was rarely out of eyesight. She assumed it was his way to compensate for not being able to feel her emotions anymore.

He was back to working furiously on his manifesto. There were copies of it bandied about half of Kirkwall and dozens of copies lying around the estate as well. And even though he was not so discreetly distributing them he was always working on re-writes and improvements. 

He’d pace feverishly as he recited it, asking her opinion or just muttering to himself. Sometimes she worried he’d go mad, especially considering how little sleep he got. And those were the times she resorted to Anders’ methods. If she couldn’t coax him to sleep she’d seduce him to bring him back from the edge of lunacy. 

And so their days went by in an unsatisfying blur. Varric had also made an appearance back in their lives. He’d given an awkward apology about being so absent. He’d supposedly gone looking for Isabella, but hadn’t any luck.

He’d made the confession rather sheepishly, as though he were afraid of Sekhmet’s reaction. What Varric chose to do with his time was up to him. Yes, she felt like he’d wasted time, money and resources, but they were his to waste.

She hadn’t really pegged Varric as the sentimental type. But, those things were hard to peg down and Varric was a master at hiding his feelings. In a way, he had to be as a story teller. She just hoped he had it all out of his system. She’d missed him while he was gone.

And when he pointedly looked at her abdomen, raising his brow quizzically she’d known that his trek to the estate hadn’t merely been for a confession. Likely, Aveline and Fenris had both pushed him to visit to try to pry from her what had happened to the child that had never seen the light of day. Sebastian was a good man and would keep her pain to himself. 

Pushing the thoughts back, she gripped for sleep; trying to pull it over her like the covers she was snuggled under. Her head was too full of thoughts and it was taking an eternity to wade through the rushing stream for the distant shore that promised a few more hours of oblivion.

“Run, dear sweet Maker, run Sekhmet, please!”

She jerked upright in the bed clutching the small daggers she kept within easy reach. Her eyes scanned the room quickly before falling back on Anders, his body twisted in a sheet, sweat glistening on his skin and his face contorted in agony. It was another nightmare. Anders had been having a lot of them lately. She couldn’t remember a single night that he managed to fall asleep not being interrupted by their bitter venom. 

She put her daggers away and called his name. He twisted and grimaced but his eyes stayed closed. She called to him again, a little louder. His eyes snapped open and his breathing was coming in fast little gasps. 

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Just a dream, my love.”

He looked at her, anguish still twisting his features. “One day it’s not going to be a dream.” He sighed and began untangling himself from the sheet that held him captive.

She tugged on the sheet trying to help him. “Perhaps, but it’s still a long way off.” She knew better than to argue with him. 

“I’ve got it,” he snapped then sighed, “Sorry.”

She shrugged, fatigue weighing on her. She hated this conversation. “All of our lives are unwinding, Anders.”

“Not all of our lives are races towards becoming mindless monsters.” Predictable.

“True, some of us are already mindless monsters.” She quipped even knowing it would irritate him.

A deep scowl furrowed his brow, “Stop being so glib.”

“Not glib. Maybe if you didn’t obsess over it so much you’d have fewer nightmares.” They really needed to stop having this dance.

He snorted, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He had a point; she had so many nightmares about her family dying she wasn’t even sure who was stalked more in the night by the terrors of their minds. In fact, she was already awake because of a dream where they never found the Wardens in the Deep Roads and Bethany had died a slow and painful death. She’d only managed not to cry and had been grateful that the connection between her and Anders was gone and couldn’t wake him up.

And then her mind kept her up with the mess their lives had become. Now, they were both awake, like so many other nights. She tugged the sheet off him completely, letting her eyes slide over his incredibly beautiful body slowly.

By the time her eyes met his, they were dark and he was hard. He was smirking, “Do you think I’m just some piece of meat you can stare at lewdly whenever you wish?”

She smiled back at him, “Of course.” She straddled his legs, “Not to mention, my favorite sex toy that I can use whenever and however I want to.”

He kissed her softly, “In that case madam, how can I serve you?”

Maybe being awakened by nightmares wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, not if it led to this so often. And perhaps, if they made enough attempts at it, they would remember how to make it satisfying, exciting, and fun again. Or maybe they’d both end up more broken on the inside, who knew?

********

Sekhmet was half sleeping curled up on her side, hand resting on the place where Anders had slept. He smiled as he looked at her; this was the picture of everything right in his life. The woman he loved sleeping peacefully after having spent the night in Anders’ arms. 

Waking her up was the last thing he wanted to do, but there was much to be done today so he touched Sekhmet’s shoulder lightly, “Wake up, love.”

Sekhmet rolled lazily onto her back and her eyes blinked slowly open. When she saw him she smiled and spoke his name with a note of happy surprise. She stretched a little and Anders shook his head.

“Sweet Andraste, you undo me every time you do that.” He bent over the side of the bed to give her a soft kiss.

Still smiling she raised a brow in query, “Do what?”

“Wake up with a smile and my name on your lips, looking at me adoringly, like it’s a wonderful surprise every time.” Yes, maybe he was being sappy and ridiculous, but after they had both been awakened by nightmares they had spent the rest of the night making love. 

And, it was the closest he had felt to her in a long time. He hadn’t been able to touch her with his magic, but it had still been something special. Perhaps, tired and recovering from nightmares they had both been more open, or needier. It had somehow been more than physical.

“It is; there are much worse ways to be woken up then to have the man you love rouse you from slumber, especially for us. I mean it could be bandits or Templars, wild dogs or giant spiders, Sandal asking for salamanders or Izzy trying to climb into bed with us again.”

Anders chuckled, “Yes, that one is rather disturbing.” That had been before the pirate queen had disappeared. 

Sekhmet had nearly ended Izzy’s life before she’d even completely woken up. Anders, realizing who had crawled into their bed, had ended up using his magic to stop Sekhmet just in time. Isabela had skipped away with her throaty laughter and none of them had ever mentioned it again. 

Currently, Sekhmet sat up and swung her legs off the bed. She sat there for a moment yawning and stretching while Anders watched her. It was a terrible habit, but he could never stop himself. He just loved the way she moved, all of her little mannerisms and the ocean of things that crossed her face when she thought no one was looking. 

This morning her hair was mussed from a particularly vigorous lovemaking session the night before. She even sported several red bite marks on her shoulders. He backed out of her way and she stood up slowly. Walking, hips swaying perhaps just a bit more than was necessary as she headed to the bathing chamber. He winced at the bruises on her hips from his fingers.

“Wait a second, let me heal you.”

She turned and threw an impish smile over her shoulder, “Why is it every time I earn myself love bites you want to banish them in the morning. I worked hard for those.”

He wouldn’t argue with her now, Maker knows they had argued about it enough in the past. He would just heal her later when she wasn’t paying close attention and by time she noticed she would already be healed. “Mind if I join you for a bath?”

A slow and blissful smile curled her lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They filled the tub and Anders heated it with a touch. He climbed into the tub and Sekhmet climbed in after him, straddling his legs and facing him. She cuddled against his neck and he held her gently letting the water warm and soothe them.

“Anders?”

“Yes, love?”

She sighed happily, “I love you.”

Anders murmured in appreciation and kissed her hair. “I love you, too.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “Can we just stay home today?”

“We have a lot to do.” In the estate with her all day, nothing to distract them from the things neither of them had completely dealt with yet? No, he rather thought not.

“I know, but something feels wrong about today, I just want to stay here.” Her voice was soft and quiet, unusual for her. 

“Hawke.” Anders’ voice held a note of warning; he couldn’t stand it when she pouted to get her way. He always caved when she was soft and quiet with him. 

Sharply, Sekhmet raised her head to glare at him, “Don’t do that. You always call me that when you disagree with me. And you always use that tone of voice like I’m an ill behaved child. Can’t you just trust me once and let me have my way. Is there truly something we need to do today that we can’t do tomorrow?”

Anders caressed her face and sighed heavily, “No, I suppose not.” The night had been pleasant and he really didn’t feel like fighting with her. Maker knew he was so bloody tired of arguing with her, or not arguing with her as was more often the case lately, and with fighting against the world. He smiled a little, “So, my love, what did you want to do today?”

“We’ll take a nice long bath then we can pull all the blankets off the bed and make ourselves a comfortable little nest in front of the fire. We’ll have Orana bring us some meats, cheeses and breads and a good bottle of wine.”

An amused smiled touched Anders’ lips, “Isn’t a little early for wine?”

“Not at all, time is irrelevant today.” She waived his concern off easily.

She was kind of adorable like this and he decided to just enjoy it. “Ah, I see anything else?”

Sekhmet leaned forward and kissed him, long and slow and sensuous, “I was thinking we play the rest by ear.” She whispered breathily when she pulled away. “After we tell Bodahn no visitors, of course.”

He kissed her again, deliberately distracting her, and let his hands slide down her sides to rest on her hips, a small glimmer of energy trailing from his fingertips, “But of course.” His magic flared brighter for just a second to heal the deeper bruises on her hips. 

Sekhmet tried to pull out of his grasp, “Hey!”

Anders chuckled, “I’ll give you more later. I promise.”

She traced her finger over his still smiling lips, “I’ve missed this smile.” She shook her head slightly, grinning, “And, I’m going to hold you to that.”

He didn’t comment about his smile. “I have no doubt.” He pulled her close against him again, her chest flush with his and her head on his shoulder. “But for now, let’s just take it easy. I was enjoying holding you.” It wasn’t the same as the connection his magic had once forged between them, but it was better than nothing.

They stayed in the tub a long time, Anders reheating the water as necessary. He couldn’t remember the last time he had taken the time to just relax and take a long soak in a tub. Being the Champion of Kirkwall kept Sekhmet, and by extension, him busy. Not to mention all the work they had been doing for the Underground.

And when he wasn’t traipsing around the city or the countryside he was working on his manifesto or in the clinic. He pushed the thought of the clinic away swiftly. He’d been neglecting it of late, but he just didn’t have the patience to heal right now. 

Irritation at the idiotic things some of his patients did too easily turned into anger. He promised himself he’d go back when he had his emotions better under control. And perhaps a day basking in Sekhmet’s infectious playfulness was a step in getting back there faster.

Pruned and content, he let Sekhmet go, touching her thigh lightly to stir her to movement. She climbed off him but didn’t get out of the tub. Unperturbed, he stepped out of the tub and dried off a bit. He could feel Sekhmet’s eyes on him and as it always did it stirred both desire and pride in him. 

Lust, he felt drenched in it lately. It was like losing his magical connection with Sekhmet had sent him sprawling backwards. He was using sex in ways he hadn’t since being in the Tower, only this time he knew it was desperation for some kind of a connection.

The knowing didn’t make him any more capable of stopping himself, however. Though, today the idea of making love to her over and over again for hours made him smile. He wasn’t worried about how desperate and needy he was, or if she would push him away. 

Her stop him? The idea was almost laughable. She’d only stopped him once that he could remember. Just the once, when she had made that awful confession, the confession that had knocked him off his feet.

No, stop it; he didn’t want to think about any of that. No, he wanted to enjoy her staring at him, enjoying his body. Something simple and pure. A deep breath and he could feel her eyes watching the muscles of his back moving. 

Yes, that was more like it. Deliberately, he bent over and started drying off his long legs. Her eyes on him were almost a physical caress, at least in his mind.

Since moving in with Sekhmet he had put back on the weight he had lost during the lean times. Constantly fighting and travelling by foot kept him in good shape. And now his body was as fit and trim as it had ever been while he was in the Wardens. It gave him a thrill to know that Sekhmet liked looking at him as much as he liked looking at her, even if he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He stood back up and looked over his shoulder at her.

When she realized he had caught her looking she gave him an unapologetic smile. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.”

He turned to face her, letting her see more of him, letting her see what her eyes had stirred in him. “Instead of admiring from afar why don’t you come on out and take a closer look.”

Sekhmet laughed and stood up, “I’d love to.”

As she climbed out Anders toweled her off quickly while her fingers trailed lightly over his skin touching his shoulders, arms and hands as he moved. Satisfied she was dry enough; Anders tossed the towel aside and pulled Sekhmet to him for a long, sweet kiss. 

Over a year…over a year of kissing her and even in her calmest moments and in her sweetest kisses Anders was reminded of the rocky coast of Amaranthine and the furious storms that would crash upon the shore there in summer. It intoxicated him, pulled him in, dragged him under and claimed his heart.

If he kissed her long enough it would heal him, take away his pain and rage, his fears. If he kissed her often enough, he would be invincible, invulnerable, nothing would ever be able to hurt him again. If he kissed her deeply enough it would re-forge the connection between them, would tie their souls together forever, and make them inseparable no matter what life threw at them.

Anders was losing himself to the kiss when she gently broke it and pushed him away. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, Anders was glad he wasn’t the only one still so affected by their kisses. “I’ll get the bedding; you slip on a robe and call for food.”

Anders nodded, Maker he wanted to taste her lips again. “I’ll let Bodahn know we’re not to be disturbed as well.”

Sekhmet walked out of the room, her steps unhurried and languid. He watched her appreciatively for a moment before following. He put on his dressing gown and slipped his feet into his soft slippers before leaving the room. 

Though he was only gone for a few minutes, when he returned Sekhmet was lying on her stomach on the floor, blankets underneath and around her. She had started to build up the fire again so the orange light gave her alabaster skin a golden tint. She was bare as she looked up at him with a smile on her dark lips, a beautiful contrast to her skin. 

Looking at her he wondered to himself, _“Why do I ever want to leave this room? This is as good as life gets and it’s more than I deserve.”_ The dressing gown slipped from his shoulders quickly and was discarded as were the slippers before he crawled into the nest of blankets with her. He lay on his side, fingers trailing down Sekhmet’s back as the fire illuminated her skin. 

A feeling like a low hum of contentment was building in him as his skin touched hers. There was something between them that could not be explained in words. When he was with her, and often when he wasn’t, his whole world was illuminated by the light that was Sekhmet’s love. He basked and luxuriated in it, trying to soak up every second before it was over and he was left alone again.

Anders knew that without her he wouldn’t be able to keep going, her love and devotion was what propelled him, let him continue working for the cause of mages even when it seemed hopeless. She was what kept him from letting Justice take him over completely. Sometimes he felt like his love would consume them both.

When he reached the base of her spine he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder. Sekhmet had been watching him with a smile since he had entered the room. She rolled onto her side facing him and he let his hand settle onto her hip as she turned. 

His gaze slid over her face and down her body, lingering for a moment on her scar, he loved that scar, what it represented about her, how quintessentially it summed her up. Lying on their sides they were silent as their fingers gently caressed each other. 

They were unhurried and not seeking any goal other then the act of caressing itself. Rarely had Anders had an opportunity to just be with someone. His life had been a series of hurried trysts in corners, a few brief moments of pleasure to dull the pain of the reality of his life, until he had been with Sekhmet.

It had taken both of them a few months to realize that there was no reason to hurry between them. Not every touch had to mean anything other than the simple affection it conveyed. It was alright to just touch and adore each other for the simple pleasure of it. 

It always made Anders feel incredibly content and languorous when they spent time with gentle caresses and soft smiles. And without his magic connecting them, this was exactly what he needed. A reminder they could be close even without it.

His hand skimmed gently up her chest, between her breasts. He could feel her heart beating. He closed his eyes just feeling the gentle rhythm; it soothed him, calmed his soul and even seemed to quiet Justice for a time. 

He was grateful for every moment with her; he opened his eyes and saw her watching him curiously. He lifted his hand to her face and stroked down her cheek “You are my everything.”

Sekhmet turned her head and kissed his palm. “No, I’m not, but thank you.”

Anders sat up a little, his heart aching not at her accusation, but at the truth of it. He wanted so much for it to be true, for the only thing in his world to be Sekhmet. The truth was that as long as Justice was a part of him he couldn’t give all of himself to Sekhmet so he didn’t even try to argue with her.

Instead, he was just glad she understood. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled a little, “I know, but I’m happy with what we have together. I don’t need anything more from you.”

Anders couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward and kissed her again. She was special, his little lioness, so much more so than people understood. They used her for what they needed, for her title, her name, her skill in battle, her connection to the guard, her connection to mages, her dislike of Templars. But, they never really understood her and most of them didn’t care too. 

And it was fine by Anders. The less they knew, the more privacy the two of them had. The more he could keep her all to himself. 

Sekhmet rolled onto her back and Anders moved forward until his skin touched her side. The firelight glinted against the ring in her ear. He fingered the golden hoop in her ear drawing a smile from her. 

She touched his earring in turn. “Do you ever regret it?”

Anders was surprised, “No, never. It’s probably the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Anders quickly pulled a blanket over Sekhmet and climbed to his feet. Slipping back into his dressing gown he opened the door and took the rather large tray from Orana. “Thank you, Orana.”

Orana smiled, clearly pleased that she had made Anders happy. “You’re welcome, messere.”

Anders carried the tray and set it on the floor in front of the nest of blankets before sitting down and pouring them both a glass of wine. He crawled back into the nest of blankets and pulled the blanket he had draped over Sekhmet over himself as well. 

The wine had the merest hint of sweetness and went down easily. As Sekhmet drained her glass she sat up, the blanket sliding down into her lap. With a wicked grin Anders pulled the blanket off her lap baring her for his hungry eyes. 

She set her wine glass down and turned back to Anders with her little half smile. “See something you like, serrah?”

“Every inch,” he pulled her down so she lay next to him again, settled on her side facing him.

She rested her head on her hand, propped up on her elbow but didn’t try to cover herself. She touched his fingers, eyes turning up to look at him questioningly. “I’ve been wondering about you and your magic.”

He struggled not to pull away from her. The reminder of the connection they had lost was most unwelcome. “Oh?” The statement sounded so much calmer than he felt.

“Yes, the spell you used on Cullen, the one for pleasure, does it feel the same for you when you use that magic on yourself?” She was stroking his index finger as if it were a phallus.

He smiled softly, and relaxed even as he thought of her small hand wrapped around his cock. He always loved the way it looked, how small her hand looked, how large in comparison his cock looked. A shallow thing perhaps, but he was still a man and such things delighted all men. “You know, I’ve never really tried it before. Well, not since I found the right combination of magic.”

She took his finger into her mouth and sucked it, drawing it from her lips slowly before smiling at him. Little vixen knew exactly what she was doing. “Would you do it now, for me? I want to see that look of dazed pleasure on your beautiful face.”

It might be an interesting experiment. And, he knew whatever she asked, a few more well placed touches and he’d give her anything she wanted anyway. With a smirk he reached for his cock.

“No foreplay?” She almost pouted, “Don’t cheat yourself, love.”

Cheat himself? He had no intention of it. No, he was half a second away from pinning her still with magic, spreading her pretty white thighs and indulging himself with her taste until he’d had his fill. Making her writhe and cum again and again and again with no end in sight. A fantasy for another day, for now he’d give her what she wanted.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He teased her, but shifted his focus, starting in the center of his chest. Lightly, he trailed his fingers slowly down his torso. 

********

She watched him closely. His face, that radiantly gorgeous face of his was halfway to rapture and it was glorious. When he reached his abdomen his muscles twitched and he let out a soft moan, his marvelously sculpted lips parting and his eyes drifted shut. 

Her husband was impossibly beautiful. 

As he reached his lower abdomen he shifted direction and traced his fingers down his inner thigh. He shivered again, harder this time. “Maker, yes that feels incredible.” 

His fingers, those long, elegant, and wicked fingers traced down to his knee before slowly moving, almost as if in a dream, to his other thigh. As he traced his fingers upwards once again he slowly lowered himself back, resting on the elbow of his other arm as he spread his legs rather obscenely. 

She couldn’t help but smile. He looked like some decadent god of sex, eyes closed, lips parted, head tilted back, neck arched as if inviting her to lick, and bite, and tease. Reclined, the long lines of his body accentuated in repose. 

His fingers reached the apex of his legs and he slowly cupped his sac. Another moan escaped those luscious lips and his hips thrust upwards ever so slightly. He took a slow, ragged breath and lifted his head, his eyes opening with effort. His hand moved away from his flesh and he let the magic die.

“You’re going to stop there?” She couldn’t believe he’d deprive himself of relief and her of watching the stunning and wanton display of his orgasm.

His breath was coming in soft little pants, “I’ll cum if I don’t stop.”

Her smile spread wider, since when was he worried about climaxing? Her darling mage could orgasm a half dozen times and still get hard for another round. “Good, I want to see you completely undone by your own magic.”

He smiled wickedly, his eyes glittering, “I think you might be developing a bit of a fetish, my darling.”

“The only fetish I have is you and the incredibly gorgeous faces you make when you’re overwhelmed with pleasure.”

Another smile on his sculpted lips and his magic unwound from his fingers like insubstantial thread. She could feel the tingle of it across her skin. She shivered at the memory of what it had felt like to be touched by his pure magic. It was only in moments like these that she could admit she missed its touch. The memory of its loss had no place here, not now, so she let it go.

A beat of shimmering light, his back arched in a line any artist would envy, his lips wet and parted. Him, like this, was perfection to her. The tight, taut lines of his body, slightly slick with sweat and shimmering in the light of the fire. She sat enthralled, enraptured by the sight.

This time he only touched his scrotum for the briefest of moments before wrapping his hand around his cock. He sighed with pleasure even as his body drew tighter, closer to the cusp of his orgasm. Only a few strokes of his long fingers, encased in his magic, managed to travel the length of his erection before he cried out, hips bucking, skin flushed as his orgasm swept over him. 

His seed spurted from him in pearly drops, iridescent in the firelight. She only spared the strangely beautiful sight the briefest of glances before her eyes locked back on his face. Granted, his whole body was a sculpture of indescribable beauty. But, his face, dear sweet Andraste, that face of his was pure ecstasy.

As soon as his body started to relax she pushed him onto his back and kissed him again and again, peppering her words throughout. “You are truly…the most indescribably…beautiful creature…to walk this world.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound smothered in her kisses as his arms twined about her waist. She was pleased he didn’t actually go soft. She wasn’t sure she could actually wait if he had.

She shifted and slid herself onto his length, feeling his seed, already cooling on his flesh, sticking to the both of them. Even as she began to move, him gripping her hips tightly, she prayed to gods that didn’t exist that this worked.

Stolen moments out of Anders’ sight were precious few. She’d had to work quickly these last weeks making the potion and sneaking off to take it in the few times she could slip away. Anders wouldn’t talk about their child, couldn’t stand to hear the word. 

But she felt sure he still wanted one. And, she would do her damndest to make sure he had one. Maybe a child would save them both.


	74. Empty

That wretched beast was touching her again. Justice growled fury in Anders’ head making him wince. He stepped back away from the railing and leaned against the wall behind him. 

“Please stop,” he whispered, both hands clenched into fists. “We cannot lose our temper every time someone touches her.”

_“Not someone, him.”_ Justice countered. _“He becomes bolder everyday and you let him take liberties with her. Make them stop or I will.”_

Anders closed his eyes and took deep breaths straining to hold his control over Justice. If Sekhmet knew how often he struggled with it now he wasn’t sure she would let him stay here with her. And he couldn’t leave her, no matter how much it hurt him to be with her and feel the vast and ever growing sea between them.

She was sweet, attentive, but they both knew something vital between them had shattered. Was it the loss of Goath? Was it her infidelity with Justice? Did it even matter?

Anders had lost the thread of magic that tied them together. He hadn’t even been able to make the faintest wisp of his raw magic re-emerge. Losing that connection was a never ending agony.

And when he made love to her he knew he spent more time trying to erase the image of Justice fucking her than concentrating on the two of them. Even now the thought brought tears to his eyes. His love, his only love, and Justice had tried to steal even that from him.

Justice recoiled, curled up and slinked back deeper into Anders’ unconscious mind. Anders wasn’t sure if Justice felt guilt or shame, but every time Anders thought of the spirit and Sekhmet together Justice pulled back and disappeared, as much as he could, for hours. Anders, no matter how hard he tried to rid himself of it had this well of pain and anger inside of him that he couldn’t quite banish.

He took another slow breath and opened his eyes. He wanted to follow Fenris and Sekhmet into the library, wanted to see if there were more touches between them. But, he wouldn’t put himself through that.

The touches were all innocent enough, a light touch to her arm, pushing away a stray hair, a friendly clap on the shoulder. Anders’ mind was plagued with doubts and fears, echoed by Justice. And he saw every touch as ominous and indicative of what he assumed was a growing attraction between the pair.

Anders knew she was unhappy. He’d known her tendency to use laughter and smiles to cover pain for years. And he knew himself well enough to know he’d never let Sekhmet go. He’d kill the elf long before that, the elf and anyone else he thought might take her away from him.

“This is not love, Justice. Not in any normal sense. We’re obsessed with her, possessive beyond all reason. Do you hear me? We’ve corrupted each other so much we cannot even love properly.” He slid down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Save us, Justice, save her. End us now before we do something we can never take back. Please, we’ve hurt her enough. Tell me you’ll let me die and I’ll end it now. I’ll end our life and spare her from the twist of darkness that’s growing within us. We cannot keep it bottled inside forever.” His voice was a ragged whisper, his throat aching with the emotion surging through him.

Justice, of course, remained silent. He waited, already knowing it was pointless, for an answer. Long minutes ticked by and there was nothing but the silence.

He sighed heavily, “Then give me the strength to do something besides sit here and ache.” He felt the unnatural calm of Justice setting over him. His mind cleared, the pain subsumed under Justice’s cool resolve until Anders barely felt it. 

The drive, the need to do something swamped over him. He stood and walked briskly down the steps and towards the basement. The briefest thought that he should tell Sekhmet where he was going crossed his mind, followed almost immediately by an angry thought that she likely wouldn’t even notice his absence with the elf occupying her time.

He didn’t stop to tell her; he yanked open the door to the basement and took the steps two at a time. He didn’t light the lamps; he had no desire to be bothered. In his small little room at the back of his clinic he took out the key hidden in his desk and opened the small chest he still had secreted away in the back of the room.

Ignoring the lyrium’s call and Justice’s strong desire for it he lifted out his archdemon leggings and the black coat he hadn’t worn since leaving the Wardens. He placed them aside and slid open a secret compartment built into the bottom of the chest and lifted out a heavy tome.

Closing and locking the chest he moved to sit on his long abandoned cot, barely noticing the dust that puffed up as he settled himself down. There was powerful magic in this tome, powerful spells, few were simple incantations, most required difficult to obtain ingredients. All of them were destructive. Spells Anders wouldn’t have bothered to look at even three years ago.

But, Anders was a different man now, and Kirkwall was a very different place. Something in these pages might come in handy in the coming months and years in the oppressive dungeon that Kirkwall was becoming. Meredith was closing her iron fist, using terror as a weapon over all the citizens of Kirkwall, and sooner or later something needed to be done.

********

Sekhmet settled back on the sofa and smiled at Fenris. She couldn’t believe how well he’d been doing in his lessons as of late. His reading had improved by leaps and bounds the last few weeks and his handwriting no longer looked like that of a child.

Fenris glanced up from the book he was reading and returned her smile a little self consciously, “What?”

She shook her head, “I’m just impressed with how well you’ve been doing.”

He shifted a little uncomfortably, “You’re a good teacher, patient.”

Sekhmet had been about to say something glib but bit her tongue. She could only imagine the sort of tutelage Fenris had received from Danarius and those of his household. She’d heard only the vaguest stories and even those were enough to make most people shudder. “You’re a bright pupil.” 

Fenris blushed hotly, and it was adorable, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Did you have an idea of what you wanted to read next?” 

He seemed relieved by the subject change. “Not really, I don’t know much about books. What do you think I should read?”

She stood up and crossed to one of the bookcases, “You can’t always just read what other people tell you to read. How about this? I’ll get out a selection of books that I think you can read, I’ll tell you a little bit about them and you can pick.”

He stiffened just the slightest. Sekhmet mused over how well she’d come to know all the small gestures Fenris made. He was just the slightest bit afraid of the idea, but he’d never want her to know that, and so she ignored his reaction and began to pull books from the shelf.

He sat still, watching her, the firelight glinting off his white hair. She focused on the books so she wouldn’t stare. Fenris was such a beautiful specimen, almost too perfect to be real. And even after years it still had the capacity to stun her.

She always thought it was a shame that he seemed so cautious around people still. He seemed oblivious to the fact that women and men alike stared after him. Sure, some of them were intimidated by his fearsome scowl, but most were nearly entranced with his porcelain doll good looks.

Another stab of anger flared through her at Isabela. Fenris had finally opened up to someone, had let someone into his life and she had betrayed them all. Even if Sekhmet could eventually forgive her, she was pretty sure Fenris never would.

It wasn’t that thousands of people had died because of Isabela’s over developed sense of self preservation. Fenris would never forgive her for turning her back on their little band when they needed her. She’d been a coward and a thief. 

Fenris was even convinced that Isabela’s return had been based on self preservation. The pirate queen had realized too late that her best chance of survival was with Sekhmet. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea that she had returned because she was honestly trying to do the right thing.

And whether he admitted it or not, Sekhmet knew he was hurt. Izzy had not just abandoned Sekhmet, but him. He’d been so careful not to let anyone in for so long, and then when he finally started to trust people a little, the one he let, arguably the closest, betrayed and left him.

“Stop thinking about her.” Fenris was standing beside her; she hadn’t even heard him move.

“I’m not,” the words tumbled from her mouth before she could catch them.

Fenris didn’t seem angry, his scowl momentarily softened. “You only get that line on your forehead when you’re thinking about her.”

“I was mostly thinking about you, and what a shame it was that no one in Kirkwall gets to enjoy you.” She smirked a little to let him know she was teasing.

“Enjoy me? I’m not dinner, Hawke.” He snorted, taking several of the books from her hands.

“Nothing so mundane as dinner, you’re like a fine wine, or…no, a delicacy, a rare treat.” She pulled another book from the shelf.

“Still food, are you suggesting someone in Kirkwall gobble me up?” He raised a curious and amused brow.

“Only if they’re very, very talented.” She winked at him, wondering if he’d get the innuendo, sometimes he did and other times he missed it completely.

He flushed and she knew he’d caught that one. “Not interested, Hawke. My life is too complicated for an outsider to get involved in.”

“Then don’t make it complicated or lasting. At least indulge once in a while. Take a night or two at the Rose, on me.” She was only half joking. Maybe if he at least indulged in sex he’d relax a little.

Fenris flushed darker and moved back to sit on the floor with the books he’d taken from her, “Not interested. Don’t you have better things to do than to worry about my love life?”

“You mean you’re lack of a love life? Not at the current moment, no.” She smiled and sat down across from him setting the rest of the books on the floor between them.

Fenris studied the books on the floor, “Leave me in peace, Hawke. I’m still learning to navigate friendship.”

She was disappointed, but he had a point. “Alright, I’ll drop it, for now. But someday, you’re going to go out there, find someone amazing and be happy. And when you do, I want to meet them.”

Fenris chuckled, and then threw his head back and laughed. It was a rich, deep baritone laugh that filled the library, even with its high ceiling. His genuine laugh was such a rare occurrence that Sekhmet was momentarily stunned. He shook his head and looked at her, “And we’ll what, have dinner parties and sit around chatting about the good old days?”

“We might, you never know. In fact, we should start sooner rather than later. Let’s have a dinner party.” She tried not to be offended by Fenris’ complete inability to believe they could sit down and have a dinner party in the future.

“And who do you know that would have any interest in a dinner party? All your friends would rather be elbow deep in blood and guts.” He smirked at her.

He wasn’t trying to be unkind, but she was a little offended all the same. “You would come, wouldn’t you? And I’m sure Sebastian would, and…” she thought for a moment, “And Varric, I’m sure he’d come if there was going to be good food.”

“I’ll tell you what Hawke, if you can get anyone besides Sebastian to agree, I’ll come. But no servants waiting on us hand and foot, okay?” He’d sobered a little, but a small smile still played about his lips.

“You’re on, but, if I get someone besides Sebastian to come, you have to wear something other than your armor. It’s a dinner party, not a raid.” She smirked at his scowl.

“Fine,” he agreed grudgingly.

“Do you have anything other than armor to wear?” She asked, trying to make it sound light.

He waived her off, “I’m sure I can find something.” He paused and smiled again, “If it’s a dinner party, I expect you to dress nicely as well. You live in this big fancy estate, I’m sure you have some decent clothes somewhere.”

She looked down at the ragged woolen trousers she was wearing and the oversized tunic. “You don’t like my clothes?” So, she’d taken to wearing comfortable clothes after losing Goath, they weren’t that bad were they?

“Sebastian and Anders get to see you all painted up and wearing fancy dresses all the time, you could put something nice on for my behalf once, right?” He was still smirking at her.

“Does it have to be a dress?” She honestly loathed the things and only wore them to make a good impression with the nobles.

He shook his head, “Not so long as it’s something nice.”

She nodded, that she could do. She held out her hand, “Deal”.

He shook her hand, “This ought to be good.”

She shook her head and started telling him about the different books she’d taken off the shelves.

********

She’d already been in bed when Anders had finally come home that night. She’d been worried about him, but thought perhaps he’d finally needed some time to himself. And, if she was completely honest she had appreciated the break.

He slipped his clothes off and climbed into bed, immediately pulling her towards him. He was excited about something, but he didn’t say a word. He kissed her until she could hardly breathe and then proceeded to make love to her. 

She smiled and laughed as he touched and stroked her. She hadn’t seen him so cheerful in a long time. Were they finally coming out of the dark?

When it was over he held her close, pressed against his chest like he used to. She struggled not to weep from the bliss of it. He clutched her tight and kissed her hair.

“You love me, Sekhmet, don’t you?” He whispered.

“I love you, Anders, more than anything.” She whispered back.

“Good,” another soft, sleepy whisper.

She didn’t know what had come over him, and she didn’t really care. She’d missed his passion, and his joy. Whatever had made her husband smile was worth it.

They both miraculously managed to sleep through the night. In the morning, she woke, but lay as still as she could so as not to wake Anders. She needn’t have bothered.

He kissed her forehead. “I’m already awake, sweetheart.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek, “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” He loosened his grip on her and started sliding from the bed.

She figured now was as good a time as any, “So, I want to have a dinner party.”

Anders stopped and looked at her, clearly confused, “Here?”

She nodded.

“Whatever for?” 

She wasn’t about to tell him it was practically a dare from Fenris. “I thought it might be nice to have everyone over for an evening that didn’t involve bloodshed or gambling.”

He sat against the headboard, “Do we have enough alcohol for that?”

She smacked him lightly on the arm, “It won’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, but if it’ll make you happy I’m all for it.” He stood up and stretched. “Who are you inviting?”

“I don’t know yet.” She said, seriously.

“I meant, is it for the nobles or someone else?” He walked casually over to his wardrobe and pulled it open looking through all the clothes.

“I thought we might invite our friends.” She popped out of the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

He paused, “Your friends,” he said softly. 

She moved around to the front of him and looked up at him. He wasn’t being mean spirited; by the look on his face he just genuinely believed they were all her friends. “Your friends, too.”

He gave her a small disbelieving smile, “Fine, do you think they’ll come to a dinner party? I guess Sebastian would love too, but what about Fenris or Varric?” He stepped back and scowled a little. “You know, my darling, your circle of friends has gotten considerably smaller over the years. Do you have enough people to invite to a dinner party?”

“It can be a small affair.” He was right, she avoided both Aveline and Merrill, Isabela was Maker knew where. That pretty much left her Anders, Varric, Sebastian and Fenris, a small party indeed.

“Alright, just let me know when and I’ll be there with bells on.” He bent and kissed her before reaching around her and grabbing some clothes from the wardrobe.

That settled she got dressed herself. She and Anders had a family to help flee Kirkwall today, another mage’s family being harassed by Meredith. It would likely be a very long day.

She and Anders grabbed a quick breakfast and provisions before pulling their armor on and heading out. They found the ramshackle little hovel in Lowtown easily enough. The family let them in, faces pale and drawn. They looked like they hadn’t been sleeping much.

“You ever notice Meredith doesn’t harass many families outside Lowtown?” Anders grumbled quietly as they waited for the family to finish gathering their possessions.

“Clever hag, isn’t she?” Sekhmet retorted. Oh, she had definitely noticed that Meredith and her goons didn’t bother the nobles much at all. And just what were the odds that all the mage families were poor?

With the family ready to leave they quickly led them to the closest Darktown entrance. Once they were in Darktown things should be fairly easy. The residents there knew Anders and would not bother them. Most of them even knew Hawke now.

They were almost to the Darktown entrance when they heard a voice from behind them. “Halt, in the name of the Templars.”

The family stiffened and magic sparked under Anders’ skin sharp enough to make Sekhmet’s skin tingle. “Relax Anders. Get them back, we’re supposed to be safeguarding them.” She turned and walked towards the voice seeing Lowtown’s residents disappearing inside in the periphery of her vision. “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing?” The Templar’s voice sounded tinny inside the helmet.

“Helping my cousins, why is that a crime in Kirkwall now?” She moved closer.

Another Templar roughly elbowed the first and hissed, “That’s the Champion, you idiot.”

“But the man with her, I could swear I know him.” The first one hissed back.

She grinned, “Well, most people know my companions by sight.”

The first Templar stood there, not speaking, clearly trying to decide what to do. While he was deciding a third Templar came around the corner. He quickened his pace towards them and Sekhmet stiffened. She didn’t want to have a fight in the middle of the day with the Templars, especially not with the children they were travelling with watching.

Anders’ magic prickled along her skin again and she realized he was moving closer. She turned and glared at him, mouthing “Get back,” silently, and praying he would listen to her. He didn’t retreat but he didn’t come any closer either, at this point she’d take what she could get.

The Templar advancing on them pulled off his helmet and flashed her a grin, his blonde hair clinging damply to his head. “Serrah Hawke, how good to see you again.” He nodded towards Anders, “Greetings Serrah Anders, lovely day isn’t it?”

Anders grumbled behind her and retreated. 

Sekhmet let out her breath slowly. “Keran, nice to see you’re doing well.”

He walked up to her and put out his hand, and it was only this close that she could see the strain around his eyes. He was as anxious as she was, “Very well, thanks to you.” The other two Templars started moving away.

“Keran, what are you doing away from the Gallows?” Sekhmet had thought Cullen still had him restricted to the grounds.

“Patrols, but I make sure I’m only assigned to day shifts.” He suddenly colored.

So, apparently, Keran knew who was responsible for the Templar deaths, or at least had an inkling. “That’s a good idea. I hear the city isn’t safe at night for Templars.”

“Not really safe for anyone at night, milady.” He offered her a small smile. He nodded to the family cowering between two buildings. “They’re sending another Templar to interrogate the family. They’ll be here shortly, you should get going.”

“Keran?” Sekhmet couldn’t believe that Keran knew what they were doing and was going to let them go.

He bowed his head, “They’re good folks, never did anything wrong. It isn’t right them being harassed like they are.” With that he turned and walked away.

She walked back toward Anders, “You need to keep your magic under control. Most trained Templars can feel it when you pull on your magic.”

“It’s not always a voluntary response. It’s like you clutching at your daggers, or your knives when you sense danger.” He retorted.

She didn’t think it was exactly the same, but she wasn’t about to argue with him when they had a family to escort out of the city. She quickly ushered the still shaken family into Darktown. The poor people were scared out of their minds as they walked quickly through the dark, dank tunnels.

The people of Lowtown were mostly poor, but they had never seen poverty on the scale that lay hidden below the city. They’d been under the city for less than an hour when Sekhmet noticed silent tears rolling down the wife’s face. She kept trying to wipe them away, but they were immediately replaced with fresh tears.

“Are you alright?” Sekhmet asked a little awkwardly. She wasn’t used to trying to comfort people.

“These poor people,” was all she managed to croak out.

Sekhmet was amazed. This woman had lost her home, was fleeing, possibly for her life and yet she had compassion enough to grieve over the city’s poor. She was a remarkable woman.

The wife looked at her, with reddened eyes. “Can’t you help them? You’re the Champion.”

“We do what we can. Feed them what we can, help them find work; make sure they have someone to help them when they’re ill. But, there’s just too many of them and I don’t have enough resources.” It felt like an excuse. She had Varric do what he could, and Anders still opened his clinic sporadically. But, were they doing enough?

“You know messere, for someone who lives in a mansion in Hightown you haven’t let anyone in this city become invisible to you. The people of Kirkwall are right to ask you to be Viscount.” She smiled a little through her tears and sped up to walk beside her husband.

Sekhmet scowled, Viscount? Who in their right mind thought she should be Viscount? She wouldn’t have the faintest idea as to what she was doing.

“What was that about?” Anders asked as he fell into step beside her.

“She feels sorry for these people, and seems to think I should be Viscount.” She snorted, as if the idea were absurd, because it was.

Anders nodded. “Your name comes up more and more, you know. At some point you’re going to have to address it.”

“How do you know?” Sekhmet hadn’t heard anything at all.

He shrugged, “Marcus mentioned it a few times. He likes the idea and is always happy to pass it on when he hears rumors suggesting it. Don’t look so surprised. You’re the Champion. You saved them from a would-be tyrant already. It’s not that much of a stretch for them to imagine you’ll save them from the clutches of another.”

“You sound as if you approve of the idea.” 

He shrugged, “It would be a perfect fit, if you didn’t have that pesky apostate lover. That would be a difficult sell for a city like Kirkwall,” he leaned close, “Especially if they found out he was an abomination.”

She scowled at him.

“Think of how wonderful it could be. Sebastian heads back to Starkhaven to take his city back. And then, you and he could be a perfect match. The Prince of Starkhaven and the Viscount of Kirkwall marry and form the strongest of alliances. No one would dare step out of line for fear that the might of two city states would rain down on their heads.”

She glared, “Except I’m not Viscount,” she touched her earring. “And I’m already married,” she added in an angry whisper.

Anders shrugged, “Easily undone.”

Pain flooded Sekhmet, is that what Anders wanted? Had he been lying when he said he didn’t regret their marriage? Could she give it to him if that’s what he wanted?

Not realizing she was doing it she wrapped her arms protectively around herself as she sped her steps. She needed to be away from him right now. They had a job to do, and more than that she didn’t want him to see her if she failed at keeping the tears at bay.

********

Anders watched her walk away. What had he been expecting? He really had no idea what he thought would happen with that little commentary. But, what he’d been hoping for was decidedly more than he’d gotten.

He’d hoped she would be angry at the idea, that she’d tell him she’d never agree to it in a thousand years. He’d hoped for a declaration of love. But, he supposed her chilly silence was answer enough.

He slowed his steps, taking up position at the back of their little band. He needed to think. Something had to be done, but what?

The well of pain inside of him seemed to grow with each passing moment. Had he thought his life had been hard before he’d met Sekhmet? Perhaps Justice had been right all along. Love was not a luxury they could afford.

The problem now was that it was far too late. He loved her, beyond all reason, beyond any sanity he might still cling to. His love might be a poison eating him from the inside but at least it was his. He would not let her go.

She was his, for better or worse.

********

Getting the family out of Kirkwall and a safe distance from the city took most of the day. Civilians didn’t travel that quickly, especially with children. Sekhmet had kept herself busy entertaining the boy, who might have been about ten, with tales of her adventures. She was careful not to scare him too much and though she’d never been particularly good or comfortable with children she liked this dark haired boy with his open smile and easy laugh. 

The little girl kept tightly to her mother’s skirt when her father wasn’t carrying her. Sekhmet tried not to be annoyed that the little girl was slowing them down so much, but their pace was abysmal even compared to other such trips out of the city. 

The girl whined and mewled almost constantly, making it even harder for Sekhmet to tolerate her. She had to keep refocusing her attention on the little boy so she wouldn’t say anything about the obnoxious little girl. Anders trudged behind the rest of them silently. 

Periodically, she felt sure she could feel his gaze on her back but she didn’t turn around. She was smarting from the thought that he didn’t seem to want to be married to her anymore. Was in fact ready to have her set up as Viscount and married off to Sebastian of all people.

Maybe she deserved it for having sex with Justice. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it to herself that her brief moment with Justice could destroy Anders’ feelings for her. Maybe she should have expected this, but in truth she hadn’t.

To be so casually set aside, so easily discarded seemed cruel. Perhaps these weeks Anders had been trying his best to move past what she had done and had finally given up. Maybe he wasn’t trying to be cruel at all, but trying to save them both from more pain in the future.

Her battered heart and her aching, longing soul wanted to beg him for more time, wanted to offer to do anything if just wouldn’t set her aside. But, her bruised pride was so far keeping her silent.

Perhaps she could find the words. Only if her pleading failed would she resort to telling him what she’d been up to these past few months. For now, she’d concentrate on getting this family out of Darktown and back into the sunshine, safely outside the city.

They saw a few thugs periodically, but they usually caught sight of her and quickly moved on their way. Once it had taken Anders to sway the thugs to leave. She wasn’t sure if they left because they recognized him as the Healer or if his stature, tattoos, and scars had possibly scared them off. Either way, Sekhmet was glad they hadn’t needed to resort to fighting, for the family’s sake. The poor people were traumatized enough with having to leave their homes and most of their possessions behind and flee the city. 

Eventually, they climbed back into the sunlight several miles from the city. They took the family a few more miles to make sure they were well beyond any patrols that might have been set up outside the city walls and finally found where Marcus was waiting with the wagon. He’d take them somewhere safe for the night before taking them to their new, if somewhat temporary home.

The wife hugged Sekhmet and Sekhmet awkwardly patted her back. “Don’t forget to send Varric an address to send your money.” 

Varric had agreed to sell off the possessions the family had left behind and to ship them the proceeds to help them start their life anew elsewhere. He didn’t want anything else to do with the Mage Underground, but for Sekhmet’s sake he provided this one service for the families driven from Kirkwall in fear.

The wife nodded and climbed into the cart, taking the children from her husband as he handed them up one at a time. 

They watched the cart leaving for sometime before Anders finally spoke, “So, are you ready to head back?”

She was about to agree to head back when she realized she didn’t want to head back. Being in the estate hadn’t made things any easier in the past weeks, “No, let’s stay out here.”

Anders took a deep breath, “Really Sekhmet? Every time I think you’ve gotten this particular quirk out of your system it rears its head again.”

“Is that a no?”

His voice had been quiet and he wasn’t looking at her, so she hadn’t known whether he’d been teasing her or not. He moved close to her, looking down in her eyes. His long fingered hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her close to him.

His amber eyes were intense as he stared down at her. “Tell me you’re mine, Sekhmet.” His voice was a harsh growl.

“I’m yours,” she answered with no hesitation. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but it seemed important to him.

His fingers dug into her flesh a little as he tightened his grip, “Mine, not…” his eyes closed and his face contorted in a wash of agony. “Not Justice’s, just mine.”

She touched his face, wanting to stroke his cheek, to sooth his pain, but he jerked away from her touch. 

He let her go abruptly, almost pushing her from him, and walked away brusquely, “Let’s go home.”

Scared, she reached out and gripped his arm, stopping him. She moved until she was in front of him. It needed to stop, this foreign and unwelcome fear inside of her. 

She needed him to put her out of her misery one way or another. She gripped both his wrists tight in her hands. “Please, Anders, I’m yours, only yours. I don’t want anyone else. Don’t…please don’t leave me.”

He sneered down at her, “Is that what you’re so afraid of? You’ll never be free of me, _my love._ ” The last words were bitter sounding. He tried to pull his wrists from her grasp.

She held tighter, falling to her knees in front of him, head bowed.   
Supplicating herself to him the best she knew how. “Not fear of being alone, fear of being without you. I love you, Anders. I love every moment with you, even when it hurts. It’s you I’m afraid of losing, you I’m afraid I’ve already lost. I can’t do this without you.” She dissolved into tears at last.

There, outside of Kirkwall, kneeling in the dirt, begging the man she loved not to leave her, begging him not to stop loving her. She was begging him with an inadequate tongue, clumsy words falling over themselves as tears ran in dirty rivers down her cheeks. 

She let his wrists go and wrapped her arms around him, face pressed against his thigh. Her flood of tears turned into sobs that shook her whole frame. Her fear and heartache spilled out all over Anders who stood still and unmoving above her.

She didn’t try to stop it, didn’t think she could if she wanted to. It had been bottled up, pressed down over and over again until she was filled with it from head to toe. It weighed her down like an anchor; pulling her beneath the dark waters she’d spent her life treading.

If she didn’t get it out now she’d drown.

Let him see what a broken mess she was inside. Let him see how the fear of losing him had eaten at her for weeks. There could be no doubt now that she’d broken down and begged him. She’d let him see the true desperate need for him that was the reality of her life. 

She yearned for him in a desperate way. She’d be his pale reflection as long as he allowed it. 

Her throat became tight with her tears, and the longer he stood there silent and unmoving the harder it was to stop the tears. “ _Please,_ ” she begged silently, “ _love me._ ” Because she knew, even if he didn’t love her, she’d make him stay. She’d tell him the truth and he’d stay, whether he loved her or not. And even knowing it, she would do it, just so she wouldn’t lose him.

Finally, he moved. He touched her shoulder, a light touch. “That’s enough. I already told you I wouldn’t leave.” His voice was quiet, whether he was trying to gentle her in her agonized state or his own emotions were touching him she couldn’t discern.

“You hate me,” the words were a rasped squeak forced with great effort from her throat.

He stiffened and for a moment, she wondered if he would strike her, shove her away from him forcibly. Instead, he knelt, slowly, stiffly in front of her. As he pulled away she hung her head, not looking at him. 

“You think I hate you?” He asked softly.

Not sure her voice would make it out this time she simply nodded.

His finger curled beneath her chin as he lifted her head so he could see her face. He stroked her cheek gently, wiping away her tears. “Meus parnum leana, I love you. I’m obsessed with you. Nothing is ever enough with you. I want to possess you, completely.”

He wiped the tears, softly, gently from her other cheek. “I have only this warped and twisted version of love to offer, full of jealousies and possessiveness, full of doubt, and need beyond all reason.”

He tipped her head up a little higher until she was looking into his eyes. “I’ll never be able to let you go.” He smiled, small, self deprecating and the slightest bit frightening. “You’re mine, now and forever, my love.” He bent and kissed her.

Eagerly she kissed him back, grateful, and relieved. It was worth it, anything was worth it to stay at his side. Even, the new emotion she’d never let herself feel before. She’d finally learned what it was to fear. Fear was living without Anders by her side.


	75. To Love A Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is potentially triggering. It contains Non Con. Please do not read if you are worried you might be triggered.

Anders watched her with a smile. She bustled around the kitchen hair pulled back haphazardly, flour and other things making a mess of her clothes. She even had it smudged on her cheek and in her hair which was escaping its sloppy ponytail. She’d refused his help and had given Orana and Bodahn the night off. 

He’d thought she bit off more than she could chew when she’d sent Orana and Bodahn off for the day and began cooking herself this morning. It was true she’d improved her culinary skills over time, there were even meals he quite enjoyed her making. She’d never attempted anything like this, though.

As the time for their guests’ arrival got closer he realized she was going to pull it off. Probably shouldn’t have doubted the woman, sometimes he thought time itself obeyed her out of fear of tasting her wrath. The smile brought a small smile to his lips.

He’d left her alone most of the day, occupying himself with the kittens, his manifesto, reading, and anything else that would stop him from being underfoot. But he’d come in about fifteen minutes ago to see if there was anything she needed last minute help with. Of course, she said she was fine and from the looks of it she was. He’d just been captivated by the sight of her and hadn’t been able to make himself leave.

She passed close to him as she crossed the kitchen, empty handed for once. He reached out, snaking his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Before she could protest he kissed her, enjoying the way she immediately melted against him, her arms circling his neck. There were few things in the world as precious as a woman’s unrestrained response to being kissed.

He kissed her until she let go of his neck and pushed at his chest, “Anders, the rolls.” She squirmed out of his hold and made her way quickly to the other side of the kitchen.

Unable to stop smiling he asked softly. “Are you almost done?” 

“Almost,” she replied as she set the rolls on the small work table in the center of the kitchen.

He took in her appearance again, “You’re leaving enough time to get cleaned up and dressed, yes?” 

Her eyes widened a little when she turned to him. “Am I that much of a mess? I figured I’d just change and throw my hair up.”

He chuckled, “You’re going to want time to clean yourself up. You’re covered in flour.” He stepped forward and ran his fingers down a loosened and flour covered tress.

Her eyes darted around the kitchen, “I…shit.”

He kissed her on the temple, “Just tell me what you need done, love.” He stroked his fingers soothingly down her arm.

She started speaking quickly, turning this way and that, scanning her eyes across the kitchen. “Uhm, the table needs to be finished. Don’t let the soup burn. And the roast should be done in about ten minutes.” She stopped and gave him a small grateful smile, “It needs to be taken out and left to rest.” She looked around the kitchen again and started chewing on her bottom lip.

“It’s okay, Sekhmet. I can handle it. Go take care of yourself. I’ll finish this and then I’ll be up to change. It should only take me a few minutes.” He gently shooed her from the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later he joined her upstairs. His good mood was souring quickly and he was trying his best to hold onto it. Justice, who had been silent for several days had decided that while Anders was trying to get the roast off the rack was the perfect time to chime in about tonight’s festivities. The surprise had caused Anders to burn himself.

It was a small thing, easy enough to heal, but annoying none the less. The spirit hadn’t stopped talking since. He didn’t want to have to share a meal or Sekhmet with anyone. Justice felt that Anders’ relationship with Sekhmet was too strained to accommodate outsiders right now, especially Fenris. 

He’d listed a litany of other concerns, that all boiled down to the same thing. He didn’t want Fenris in the estate. The spirit had barely been tolerating Fenris’ reading lessons lately, trying to convince Anders on several occasions to forbid Sekhmet from continuing them. Anders had, of course, refused which had caused no end of arguments between the two men until Justice had shut up completely a few days ago. Anders had the impression the spirit was sulking.

But, the spirit was back tonight, loud, demanding, and angry. Anders had been afraid Justice’s distractions would ruin the dinner Sekhmet had worked so hard on. He’d been grateful when he finished his tasks without burning or dropping anything.

Since he’d left the kitchen Justice had only doubled his assault on Anders. The mage was struggling to keep control. Justice was pushing against him, trying to wrest control away from Anders and put an end to the night before it even started.

Sekhmet scowled when she saw him. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, “I’ll be fine. You look good.”

She came over and touched his face, “Headache?”

He forced himself to smile for her, “It’s nothing, love.”

“I can send them home, do this some other night.” She offered.

He shook his head, she’d worked too damn hard to have him ruin it now. “Just going to change and then I’ll be right down.”

She kissed his cheek, “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he wasn’t, not even a little, but he wasn’t going to let her down. This was the first time he’d seen her smile in days. 

The two of them had been awkward around each other since the last trip out of the city. Anders being overly solicitous worried that he’d somehow made her feel that he didn’t love her. For her part, she’d become nervous around him, still struggling with the embarrassment of having lost her composure so completely. Or, that’s what he assumed. They certainly hadn’t discussed it.

She flashed him a shaky smile and headed downstairs. He knew she would double check everything he’d done. She was anxious as anxious as he was about tonight, even if their reasons were completely different. 

She wanted so much for things to go well, and he wanted to help make that happen. But, in their lives there were just so many things that could go bad. Especially, with Justice making a reappearance.

He took a deep breath, solidifying his hold on the reins of control as best he could. He would get changed, put a smile on his face, and go stand proudly beside his wife. It was just for a few hours, right?

********

Anders’ head throbbed and his heart ached. The night had been very long, and very painful. Justice snarled and growled all night long. He’d become like some rabid beast scratching at the inside of Anders’ skull. He for the last hour he’d felt he could lose control at any moment and accidentally unleash Justice on their guests.

Truthfully, he was in no condition to have these people here and yet he sat at the table with them as they had dessert and drinks. His gaze drifted back to Sekhmet. She looked so beautiful with her soft leather trousers and her silk tunic. Her hair was pulled back into an Orleasian braid, a hairstyle he had become quite fond of, both practical and beautiful.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed how nice she looked. Fenris had been staring at her all evening, flagrantly flirting with her all throughout dinner while she smiled and acted the coquette right back. Anders had been living with her for more than two years and still the elf acted as if she was a free woman.

His foul mood brought on by Justice’s reappearance had turned to anger with the first guest. It had started as a slow simmer when he had answered the door with Sekhmet to let Fenris in. The elf had let his gaze slide over Sekhmet with obvious appreciation while he practically ignored Anders. It was the sheer deliberateness of it that had put Anders on edge so quickly. 

Fenris’ assurances that he did not seek Sekhmet for his own had seemed less and less likely as the last year had passed. He took every opportunity to compliment her and joined her on any job he could get her to agree to take him on. And then there were the never ending “lessons”. 

He hovered over the two of them like a pestilence, just waiting to throw in his little barbs at Anders and flattery at Sekhmet. And if Sekhmet realized what Fenris was doing she didn’t seem to mind. Anders had tried to convince himself that she was just blind to it.

On the other hand, Anders thought he had been a fool to trust the elf for even one night. He sighed and tried not to think about how long ago that night felt. He tried not to think about all the hurt he and Sekhmet had endured since then. 

As the night stretched on his anger had grown, like a poisoned rose opening from bud to full bloom. He tried to ignore Fenris’ flirting and appreciative gazes. The elf wasn’t making it easy though. 

Anders really struggled to keep Justice in check whenever Fenris had touched Sekhmet. Justice snarled and snapped like a rabid wolf with every glance, every compliment. And Anders echoed the feeling, contemplating more than once how much fall out there would be if he happened to set Fenris ablaze.

He chided himself for being so jealous. He knew that Sekhmet loved him, the last trip of the city should have convinced him of that if nothing else. He knew that surrendering herself like that, to say the things she had and to give such an emotional display had been inconceivably hard for her. If she didn’t love him she never would have made such a display of herself.

But having her so openly flirt with Fenris, embarrassing him in front of their friends, it was too much. And as much as he wanted to leave he couldn’t, not so long as Fenris was still there. The possessiveness in him wouldn’t allow it.

Varric had tried to engage him in conversation a few times as had Sebastian, but Anders wasn’t interested in their distractions. And that was precisely what it was, both men looked uncomfortable. Whether it was with Fenris and his behavior or Anders’ sullenness was anyone’s guess. 

Anders thought at least Sebastian might be leaning towards not approving of Fenris’ behavior. The Chantry prince kept scowling at the elf and interrupting his conversation with Sekhmet. It almost amused Anders to see Sebastian being almost rude. Or was that just Anders’ imagination trying to justify his anger?

_“Why are you letting her act this way, she is ours.”_ Justice’s thought came with a fresh ripple of rage down Anders’ spine.

Anders shuddered, rubbing at the pain in his temples again. _“She’s not ours, we don’t own her,”_ a funny sentiment coming from him. He very much felt that Sekhmet was indeed “his”. It was just that he knew it wasn’t how he should feel about her. And he sure as shit didn’t want Justice feeling like that about Sekhmet.

Justice was angry and grumbled unhappily, _“It hurts.”_

_“It does.”_ Anders agreed. It did, it was bloody agony sitting there and watching the whole thing.

Justice growled at him, _“Then stop it.”_

Anders didn’t respond. How could he? He would look like an ass if he threw a fit about Fenris or Sekhmet’ behavior. 

So, he sat silently seething as the night dragged on. Conversation was stilted, moving in fits and starts as everyone in the room became more and more aware of Anders’ foul mood. Sekhmet squeezed his leg under the table periodically, meant to be a reassuring or possibly placating gesture.

But, her attention always returned to Fenris when he started to speak again. Who knew that bastard had so much to say? Since when was he so damned chatty?

As dessert finished Varric cleared his throat and spoke up, “Well I think the three of us should get headed out. Let these two enjoy the rest of their evening.”

Sebastian pushed back his chair, clearly eager to leave, but Fenris didn’t move. 

“I brought another bottle of wine, let’s enjoy it.” Fenris’ baritone rumbled as he watched Sekhmet and briefly flicked a glance in Anders’ direction, clearly trying to agitate him.

Sekhmet giggled. She’d already had several glasses of wine and it never failed to make her talkative and giggly. “How sweet,” she murmured as she brushed Fenris’ hair out of his face.

********

A brilliant flash of sky blue washed through the room as Justice abruptly stood, yanked her out of her chair by the wrist, and shoved her against the wall. Blue light pulsed between the cracks in his skin and faint wisps of smoke surrounded him. His hand remained wrapped around her wrist holding her so she was standing on her tip toes. 

It had all happened so fast she’d barely had time to register what was going on. But a few things were clear. Her night had dissolved into a mess, again. Justice held her tight, his touch so hot her skin felt like it was burning under his grasp, almost cooking her.

He leaned his face in close and she could feel the heat radiating off his cracked skin. “You’re hurting him,” the spirit ground out, his voice shaking the windows and rattling the dishes. 

His breath, which usually smelled of raspberries like the rest of him smelled acrid, making her think of greasy black smoke. She was worried for him, worried about the heat and smell that she didn’t associate with Justice. But, more than that she was angry.

“You’re hurting _me_.” She shot back, furious he was ruining what had so far been a decent, if not wholly successful night.

An ugly sneer tugged at Anders’ lips as Justice pulled her up another centimeter or two, “It could be worse.”

She glared daggers at the spirit. “Let me down.” 

What was he doing? Why was he so damned upset? So, she’d been a touch friendly with Fenris. It had been nice to see him in civilian clothes and to see him relaxed or once. Did Anders or Justice really think she would be unfaithful?

“Are you going to stop?” Justice’s voice was so loud it hurt her ears.

“Hawke?” Varric’s voice rang out clear from the other side of the table. He was on his feet, body tense and brow furrowed. Bianca wasn’t on his back, but his hand lingered near what Sekhmet knew was a concealed knife; short, sharp, and deadly just like the man it belonged to.

This could get a lot uglier if she didn’t get at least some control over the situation. Right now there were too many variables. She needed to be alone with Justice. She could sort this out if they were alone. 

“I’m alright, but you should go, all of you.” She didn’t know if they would listen to her or not, but she desperately hoped they would.

“I’m not leaving.” Fenris growled voice low and dangerous.

“You need to leave most of all.” Sebastian hissed, more than a touch of anger in his voice.

“He’s right Broody, I think it’s high past time _you_ leave.” Varric’s voice was a tight as his posture.

Fenris shook his head no, a small motion, almost more of a twitch then a negation. “I won’t have that abomination hurting you, Hawke.” 

The words had barely left his mouth when a tight feeling of pressure expanded across the room. It prickled at Sekhmet’s skin. She’d always found the feeling of force magic uncomfortable, but this was almost jagged, like gravel running across her skin. 

Why did he have to use that word? He knew both Anders and Justice reacted poorly to it. Or was that the point? Was he looking for a fight with Anders?

Sebastian and Varric were both swept from the room completely, the door slamming shut behind them. And Fenris found himself pinned to the wall, unable to move, a grunt expelling the breath forcefully from his lungs.

“Let him go.” Her voice was taking on a harsher, darker edge now. 

It wasn’t just Justice she was pissed off at now. She was starting to suspect that Fenris might have been looking for a fight all night. He had been unusually talkative and friendly. Was she really that stupid that she hadn’t realized it had been more than him being relaxed?

Still holding her up by her arm, Justice had never moved, never even looked at Fenris. He leaned closer and inhaled. “You’re not afraid, Anders likes that you’re never afraid of us.” He inclined his head towards where Fenris was pinned to the wall. “Your _friend_ ,” and Justice practically spat the word, “is afraid. Can you smell the fear on him?” The oddly resonate voice dropped, became almost a whisper.

Taking a deep breath she tried to rein her temper in. She needed to try to reason with him. “Justice, let Fenris go.”

The spirit snarled at her request, the heat radiating off him intensified and she struggled not to cry out. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her so she was facing the wall. As he pressed against her the heat from his body was more than a little painful. 

The heat was confusing her. Justice was never hot like this. In fact, he was cool, almost cold. It was one of the things about him that had always fascinated her. So, why now was his touch so hot, so painful? 

“Not yet.” The low voice whispered. He ripped her tunic from her body, and her skin screamed without the protection of the cloth.

She froze in place, heart stuttering erratically in her chest. No, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be.

“Even now you’re not afraid.” Justice’s voice felt almost like an oily caress across her skin. 

He pulled her trousers from her body with the same sickening ease with which he had removed her top. And within moments she stood naked, pressed between the burning crackle of his skin and the cold damp of the stone wall. The stone scraped at her skin as she tried to move.

No, she wasn’t afraid, she was furious. 

She craned her neck and looked at Fenris. His tattoos were glowing angrily and his face was scarlet with rage. Fenris’ fists were clenching and unclenching in impotent fury. His mouth opened and closed several times, and it looked like he was talking or maybe yelling but no sound came out. 

At least none that she could hear; was Justice using more magic than she realized? She didn’t have time to see what magic she could feel. Justice wasn’t done with his little display yet.

She cried out in pain as she felt the heat of Justice’s body press tighter against her bare skin. She wondered briefly if this was Justice at all. This was nothing like the Justice she knew, the one she had come to care for. 

When she felt his fingers working on his laces she jerked trying to pull free from the iron grip wrapped around her wrist. “Wait, what are you doing?” 

“Maybe you need a reminder about who it is you belong to.” His voice had a sharper edge. Instead of just anger, there seemed to be a meanness to it.

She winced as his skin became still hotter against her bare flesh. “Stop, Anders wouldn’t want this.” 

How quickly he’d learned that sex could be a weapon as much as an expression of affection. She wondered how he’d found that concept in Anders’ mind. Could Justice really do this to her? She’d thought he cared for her, at least a little.

Justice kicked her ankles apart and she started shaking with a rage of her own. This was not going to happen to her again. She struggled against Justice’s grip on her and lashed out with her feet against him. Kicking him the best she could from her pinned position in front of him.

“You bastard, let me go.” She spat at him.

Suddenly, she felt the burning in her skin fade quickly and the fingers holding her wrist let go. She pulled away as Anders’ body crumpled to the ground behind her. Turning, she saw him curled on the ground, shaking and sweating. 

“Go, quickly.” He rasped, fists clenched, eyes closed tight, obviously fighting very hard to give her this reprieve.

Fenris collapsed on the other side of the room. He pushed to his feet and shot towards Anders’ prone form. “You’re dead, mage.” He seethed.

Catching Fenris’ arm, she pulled him away from Anders. “No, let’s just go.” 

They needed to leave, she could still taste the greasy smoke that Justice had reeked of. Anders didn’t fully have control. Fear of failing him a second time spurred her to move faster.

“Leave.” The voice boomed through the room, sounding a bit like Anders but the resonate tone was already returning. There was a thread of fury in the voice as well; confirming Anders was losing the battle. Anders’ skin was starting to crack again, the light starting to seep through.

Fuck, they weren’t going to make it, at least not both of them. And as Fenris seemed to be the cause of his fury she wasn’t about to leave him alone with Justice in his current state. She stopped, watching with strange fascination as the man she loved, and the spirit she cared for struggled for control. 

Fenris grabbed the tablecloth to cover Sekhmet and started running, dragging her towards the door. They never made it. Fenris crumpled to the floor and she was jerked violently backwards. 

“No!” The spirit’s voice shook the room as he roared in his fury.

She found herself face down on the floor. Points of burning touched her scalp as her head was yanked back, stretching her neck. Everywhere his body touched her she felt the pain of his spirit fire searing into her flesh, even though it had never hurt her before. 

Pinned down, she screamed as she felt his scorching flesh enter her, his voice close to her ear, “Mine”, it growled as his flesh branded her from the inside, staking his claim in fiery pain.

The room suddenly went silent and her hair was released. The heat that had been burning her everywhere he touched her was gone, even though his weight still pinned her down. She barely noticed. She felt stunned, and suddenly very weak like her strength had been sucked from her body.

She laid her face on the floor and heard weeping; it took her a few moments to realize that the sound came both from her and from Anders. His forehead touched her shoulder for a brief moment before he slid free and moved off her.

“I’m sorry, Maker I’m so sorry.” Anders’ voice was a jagged, agonized whisper.

Still feeling shocked she found it difficult to move. She felt like a vessel of glass, fragile and empty, ready to shatter apart at the slightest movement. Still, she felt grotesquely vulnerable spread out on the floor as she was. 

Slowly, she closed her legs and curled up on her side, shaking. She saw Anders sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, huddled against the wall. He was sobbing openly, repeating the word sorry over and over like a mantra, the sound of it only broken by his periodic gagging. 

She should feel something looking at him, she knew that, but seemed to be numb. There was something she should be worried about, but what it was entirely escaped her at this moment. Carefully, she pushed herself upright and hissed as her burned skin touched the floor.

Anders leaned towards her at the sound but then jerked back gagging again. “Do you want me to heal you?” His voice had an unstable waver in it. “I can…do it from here.”

She gave a short nod and tried not to shudder as the cool blue of his healing energy cascaded over her body. Once she was healed he stood up on shaky legs. He’d stopped sobbing, but tears still ran freely down his face. 

Turning away from her he laced his trousers back up with trembling fingers. He then pulled off his tunic, his lips pressed together tightly. He moved slowly towards her but stopped several feet away and set his tunic on the floor near her before he backed away again. 

Not much steadier than Anders, she stood and pulled it on herself covering up her nudity quickly. “Anders, we need to get you out of here before Fenris wakes up.” Fenris wouldn’t care that it wasn’t Anders that had attacked her, not really. And she couldn’t let Fenris hurt Anders, especially not now.

“What?” His voice was incredulous and squeaked at the end. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Taking a deep breath she moved to his side, “Anders, stop it. We need to go.” He could fall apart and hate himself later, right now they both needed to get away from Fenris. The elf would be damned near rabid when he regained consciousness.

“Stay away from me.” Anders took a step backwards trembling slightly. “I can’t be near you.” Panic pulled at his features and he took another step backwards as she stepped forward. “Sekhmet stop!” His voice was cracked with pain.

Sekhmet stood still, hoping it would calm him some. She needed him to stop panicking and to go with her. “Please Anders, come with me.”

He looked her in the eye and she could see him struggling. “What is wrong with you? I just…” he paused gagging then swallowed hard and took a deep breath before trying again. “I just raped you, here, in your home and you want to save me from Fenris? Just go, let him kill me, if he can.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He was such a fool, didn’t he realize she’d never let Fenris, or anyone else hurt him? “No, I love you. And…” She could tell from the look on his face that it wasn’t going to be enough to get him to come with her.

She shook her head, this wasn’t how she wanted to do this, wasn’t how such a thing should be done. But, she was afraid if she didn’t tell him now she’d lose him forever. “We’re going to have a child.”

He pushed away from her, his face white and streaked from his tears. For a moment he was so pale she thought he was going to pass out. Finally, his voice croaked out a pained plea. “Please, tell me it’s not true.”

It felt like he’d stabbed her right in the heart. She staggered back a step, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t want a child with me anymore?”

He took a half step towards her and stopped, face twisting into a grimace. “I…I do, so much, but not now, not after what I just did to you.”

“It’s done.” She was amazed herself now that the words were out of her mouth. To her it was done, because she’d already started to lock it away, as if it had happened to someone else. 

So, she flipped the toggles she needed to that would keep Anders with her, no matter how it made her sound. “And…and the baby and I are going to need you.” She moved forward again, forced herself to wrap her arms around him even though she was still angry and hurt and confused.

He sighed and his body seemed to shrink a little in on itself. “Need me? After what I’ve done you should kill me. Slit my throat like I was a bloody Templar and have done with me.”

“It wasn’t you.” She hugged him fiercely, pressing her flesh tight against his. “Don’t leave me alone, please Anders. I can’t…” her voice broke and faded. Without Anders she was utterly alone, she had no one.

********

Anders was shaking, too emotionally drained to pull out of her arms. He was a monster. Today was a clear example of how impossible any real salvation was for him.

He would hurt her again and again. He could think of nothing worse than what he’d done to her today. Yet, here she was holding him, begging him to stay.

Why couldn’t he do the right thing and end this mess, this nightmare? “This is wrong.” He whispered, as tears started falling again. Anders was so tired of destroying everything good in his life.

Sekhmet pressed her face against his chest, “I don’t care Anders. We’ll find a way to make this work.”

“You should hate me.” But, as he said it he bent and kissed the top of her head. 

He should leave her, for her sake, for their unborn child’s but he knew he wouldn’t. He could no more bear the thought of living without her, than she could bear the idea of living without him. They were a curse to each other, damned to hurt each other again and again. And now there would be a child.

She lifted her head to look at him. “I know what you are Anders, I know who you are. I accept it.”

“You’re a fool.” He whispered, and so was he. Were they condemning a baby to this twisted thing that their life had become?

“I don’t care.” She stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

Defeated, he wound his arms around her and kissed her back. They jerked apart and turned to look at the sound of Fenris slowly standing up. Sekhmet backed Anders up as Fenris came towards them fury on his face.

“Stop Fenris, you need to leave.” Her voice was shaking as she spoke, was she actually afraid of Fenris?

“That monster attacked you, Sekhmet. Get away from him and let me put him down.” The elf growled and pulled a knife from the sheath on his belt.

“No.” Her voice was a bit stronger and she stood up straighter.

Fenris glared, “What kind of hold does he have over you? Has he resorted to blood magic at last?”

Anders tensed ready to lash out at Fenris when he felt Sekhmet’s hand grasping his. He sighed at the contact and relaxed. If she wanted to handle this, he would not stop her. It was probably safer for all of them for him not to lose his temper again.

Her voice was cold, hard. “You know Anders has never used blood magic and you know he never would. And what happens between the two of us is none of your business.”

“Hard not to be my business when I’m physically involved.” Fenris growled.

Sekhmet released Anders’ hand and stepped forward until she stood toe to toe with Fenris. “This.doesn’t. concern. you.” 

Fenris stood staring at the two of them, angry but seemingly surprised, also.

Sekhmet shifted forward a little, getting more into Fenris’ face. Anders revised his earlier assumption, she clearly wasn’t afraid of Fenris. She snarled at the elf, “You need to leave, now. This is not a friendly request, Fenris. And if you can’t handle staying out of my relationship with Anders, then please, feel free to move on. We don’t need you.”

Fenris gave a grunt of frustration as he turned and strode from the estate, a string of curses in Arcanum following him out the door. Before the door had closed there was a knock at the window. Varric was standing on the window ledge.

Sekhmet went to speak with him and Anders leaned back against the wall, feeling completely drained. Fighting Justice had exhausted him. His stomach lurched at the thought of the spirit. He still couldn’t understand how Justice could justify what he’d done to Sekhmet.

He had no idea what Sekhmet said to Varric but she must have placated him somehow because when he looked up Sekhmet was closing the window. She turned back to Anders, crossing the room quickly and snuggled against him. Confused, scared, and overwhelmed, he wrapped an arm around her and wondered how he was ever going to live with what he had done to her.


	76. Cost of Life

Sekhmet slipped around the pillar, following the thug who had nearly stabbed her in the back while she’d fended off two of his companions. The man thrust his dagger forward; she spun out of the way lifting her arm and sliding her own dagger neatly across his throat. Eyes wide, gripping his throat he slowly sank to his knees.

Sekhmet leaned back against the pillar, resting for a moment while she watched him bleed to death. She was exhausted, but couldn’t let the others see it. She stayed there until he’d breathed his last. With a deep breath and a sigh she stood back up, moving around to the other side, more relieved than she should have been that the rest of the thugs were already dead.

She forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly even though her lungs were screaming for more air. Maker’s ass why the Void did she always feel so tired lately? Anders was watching her so she flashed him a smile. He subtly shook his head and pressed his lips together, displeased as usual. He was never pleased when she went out on a job and always demanded to go along as well. Maker’s ass the two of them were a mess lately.

At least Varric was smiling as he declared, “That’s the last of those idiots. I’ll let Athenril know she shouldn’t be having anymore problems. Come on Choir Boy; let me buy you a pint. It’s a beautiful night; we should let these two love birds enjoy it.”

Sebastian paused, eyes turning to Sekhmet, scanning over her slowly. “You going to be alright, Sekhmet?”

She nodded. He was sweet, but his constant string of queries about her well being for the last couple months was beginning to grate on her more than a little, “I’m fine, Sebastian, stop worrying.”

He delayed a moment longer but finally followed Varric who was already walking away. “Hold up, I’m coming.”

Anders walked up to her and snorted, “Even they know something’s wrong.”

She was tired of everyone telling her something was wrong. She was fucking fine. “No, they’re still trying to sniff out if something lasting happened the night of the dinner party.”

Anders’ magic touched her and she suppressed a shudder. She’d been incredibly grateful for the loss of the bond between her and Anders since the night of the dinner party. Her emotions were a mess and would only worsen the crushing guilt Anders was already living with.

Her momentary revulsion gone she just about moaned in relief as the magic washed over her. It was a rejuvenation spell. She’d practically been living on them these last few weeks. “Thank you, darling, but it was entirely unnecessary.”

Anders rolled his eyes, not believing her lie for even a moment. “Of course it was,” He held out his arm for her, “let’s go home.” 

She really couldn’t be bothered to argue, there was already too much tension between the two of them, so she took his arm and let him escort her back to the estate. As they climbed the stairs towards Hightown a wave of dizziness hit her and if it hadn’t been for Anders’ hold on her arm she was sure she’d have gone tumbling backwards. He gasped and pulled her tight against him, she could feel his heart racing in his chest as he held her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” She murmured.

“Please stop taking these jobs, Sekhmet. It’s not safe, not when you’re like this.” His voice was tight and as soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to fall he released her again, holding just onto her arm in case it happened again.

“I’m fine Anders, just a bit tired today.” It was another lie, and they both knew it.

“Promise me you won’t take these damn jobs and put yourself in danger and I’ll go back to the clinic. You won’t have to be near me.” He was guiding her back up the stairs, staring straight ahead as he spoke, but he couldn’t quite hide the pain in his voice. 

“Please don’t leave me.” The plea a soft whisper, she hated being this weak, but she needed him.

He didn’t answer her, but she watched him tip his head back slightly and blink away a tear. She’d become a shackle, robbing Anders of his freedom as surely as any Templar. The thought made her sick to her stomach, something she’d become all too familiar with lately.

They walked the rest of the way back to the estate in silence. Once inside the door he let her arm go, closing and locking the door behind them. She moved and sat on the bench inside the door. The rejuvenation spell was wearing off and the exhaustion was washing over her again.

“Bodahn?” Anders called as he knelt at Sekhmet’s feet to start removing her boots. Bodahn had asked them a couple months ago to please stop trekking mud, blood, and guts throughout the house. So they’d taken to leaving their boots by the door on a small, cheap rug.

“I can take them off,” she wasn’t completely useless.

“I’m sure you can, but I’d rather not have to heal a head wound after you get dizzy and fall off the bench because you were leaning too far forward.” He pulled off the first boot and was even nice enough to slide her slipper on for her.

Oh, she wanted to argue with him so much, but she had almost done that exact thing a few days ago. Luckily, no one had been in the room to see it at the time. She resigned herself to his ministrations and leaned back against the cold stone behind her.

Bodahn came into the room, “Messeres, what can I do for you?”

Anders tugged the second boot off, “Could you or Orana fix something for us to eat? Bread, cheese, and fruit would be fine.”

Bodahn nodded, “Of course,” he disappeared quickly.

“I’m not hungry,” Sekhmet complained as he put her other slipper on for her.

“I know, love. You’re never hungry, but you’re going to eat anyways. I’ll do my best to help with the nausea, but you have to keep eating.” He sat down to take his own boots off.

“You make it sound as if I’m starving myself.” She thought she was doing alright, even though just the sight of food made her nauseous.

“You shouldn’t be this tired all the time. Eating more should help.” He tugged his boot off and set it down next to her. 

“Then find a way to stop the nausea.” She was being petulant. She knew he’d tried everything he could think of, and even her own knowledge about herbs had been no help.

“I’m trying, Sekhmet, I promise you I am.” Both boots off now he wriggled his toes a little before slipping his feet into his slippers. “Let’s go get cleaned up before we eat.” He stood and held out his arm for her.

She ignored his proffered hand and stood up on her own and immediately sat heavily back down as blackness swam across her vision. She grit her teeth and balled her hands into fists. This was so frustrating, so damnably frustrating she spent most of her time wanting to scream. She was not this pathetic, useless thing. She was strong, fast, and in control. This weakling was inexcusable.

She shoved Anders’ hand away when he took her hand. “I can fucking stand on my own.” She snarled at him.

Anders, poor long suffering Anders, stepped back and waited patiently for her to stand under her own power. She took her time, standing more slowly the second time, and though her vision grayed out a bit she didn’t feel like she was going to fall or pass out. She moved past Anders and headed towards the stairs.

He followed close behind, ready to catch her if she started to fall. Sekhmet gripped the banner and made her way up the stairs slowly, one step at a time. Her heart beating fast by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She stopped for a moment and was grateful when Anders didn’t say anything, just waited patiently and silently behind her.

He helped her removed her armor and wash up once they were in their bedroom. Happily, she collapsed into a chair in front of the fire while he cleaned himself up. She’d dozed off by the time he finished.

He called her name softly to wake her up. “I know you’re tired, but you have to eat. Come on, can you make it back downstairs or should I have them bring it up?”

“I can make it.” She wasn’t about to make them cart the food up to her again. She let him help her up, impatiently waiting for the dizziness to pass before letting him lead her back down the stairs. Every step to the dining room felt like a mile and she couldn’t stop yawning.

“Holy shit, Bodahn,” Anders chuckled.

Sekhmet scanned the table and giggled a little herself. The table was set with enough food for a small army. There was stew, breads, fruits, and cheeses, several cuts of various meats, fish, salad, and other vegetables. “Who were you expecting?”

Orana blushed furiously in the corner. “I know food has been difficult for you, mistress. I thought more choices would help.”

“How long have you been working on all this food?” Anders asked as he stepped forward and grabbed a hunk of fish and popped it in his mouth, closing his eyes obviously relishing the taste.

“Since this morning.” Orana smiled her shaky but beautiful smile.

“Thank you,” Sekhmet couldn’t believe Orana had done all of this for her. “You guys are going to join us, aren’t you?”

Orana looked to Bodahn who’d been standing silently beside her. He nodded before calling for his son. Sandal came into the room with his customary grin. His eyes lit up upon seeing all the food.

They all settled around the table for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Bodahn lit more candles filling the dining room with a warm glow. They all feasted, gorging themselves on the huge bounty that Orana had so sweetly prepared for them.

Anders suggested Sekhmet try to eat some fish. She was so pleased that she was able to eat it without the debilitating nausea clawing at her stomach that she ate most of the large fish by herself. She was able to handle a little fruit and some bread, but the fish filled her up pretty well.

When she could eat no more she sat back and watched the others enjoying themselves. Orana even went to get her lute and played for them for a bit. A memory washed over Sekhmet, happy and painful at the same time. 

She wiped away the tears as they came, smiling at the memory even as it pulled at her heart. It hadn’t been all that long ago that there had been similar dinners at this table with her mother. And now her mother was gone.

Sekhmet wanted to freeze this moment, to keep it forever. The memory was a faulty thing, letting moments like this disappear. She could lose this one, and hopefully she wouldn’t. This time she had an idea, “Anders?” 

He looked up from his plate, filled again with fruit, “Yes, my love?”

“Would you draw this for me?”

“This?” He looked confused.

“This moment, us at the table, all of this food, just like it is, half eaten and messy. It’s the perfect moment and I want to remember it.” A languid contentment had stolen over her, the kind you only find with good food and people you care about.

Anders stood and left the table returning a moment later with charcoal and parchment. He quickly began sketching, “You’re absolutely sure you want it just like this? I could make the food like it was when we sat down.”

“No, just like it is now. Mid-meal with us content and starting to be full. Orana playing the lute, and Sandal’s beautiful smile. I want it all, if you can.” She picked at a piece of bread sitting on her plate.

“I’ll do a quick sketch now and finish it later.” He popped another slice of peach in his mouth and went back to sketching.

She giggled, “I know the fruit is calling you. And, don’t forget to put yourself in the drawing, hun.”

This drawing would be a constant reminder that she wasn’t, in fact, alone. In a way, she still had a family. They were a motley crew to be sure, but they looked out for each other and did their best to take care of each other.

She slid back in the seat, curling up, pulling her knees up to her chest, feet resting on the chair. She watched them eat, and chatter, giggling, basking in the feeling of family. She should make an effort to do this more.

It was only now, when she’d lost so much that she realized why her mother always worked so hard to make them sit and eat together at least once a day. Maybe she would be able to make her child understand before he’d lost too much. If the boy survived. 

She pushed the ugly thought aside. They all needed a few moments of happiness. She looked to Anders, to the dark circles under his eyes. He’d been sleeping even less than usual.

He was afraid to touch her in their bed. Was constantly afraid she was going to lose the baby. And although he’d likely deny it if she asked, she knew he was still struggling with his guilt. He needed this perhaps even more than she did, a few minutes when he didn’t have to be burdened with fear and guilt.

She smiled at him as he slipped another slice of peach into his mouth. He’d become absolutely enamored of the fruit since that night so long ago, in front of the fire in the library. Sekhmet made sure there were always some in the house for him. It was one of the pleasures he never hesitated to indulge in.

She turned her attention to Bodahn as he put more food on Sandal’s plate. The poor man had once been a merchant with his own business, and now he’d been relegated to the sole father figure in a house full of misfits. Still, he rarely complained. He looked after them all quietly, and with great dignity.

They sat at that table for hours, eating here and there, talking and even singing. Sekhmet would never have believed before she sat at that table that she could have stayed awake for all of it. There was such a serenity to it, such a joy that she hadn’t wanted to miss a moment of it. Peace and joy were so rare for them.

And she knew as soon as they left the table the lines would return to Anders’ face. 

********

Anders lifted her carefully, slowly from the chair so not to wake her. She’d fought it for a long time, but eventually she gave into the fatigue pulling at her. He should have taken her upstairs sooner, but with his supplies already at the table he hadn’t been able to resist sketching her curled up in the chair sleeping. 

It had been an eternity since he’d sketched her. Still, his fingers remembered the lines of her body, the features of her face. It made the work go fast, his hand sliding over the parchment quickly. 

It was just a quick sketch, of course, but she looked peaceful and he wanted to capture her that way. Peace was something neither of them felt very often. It was best to cherish those few and far between moments the best they were able. Her request for a sketch had reminded him clearly enough of that.

Even as careful as he was, halfway up the steps she jerked awake in his arms. “Shh, I’ve got you, love.”

“I can walk.” She murmured.

He immediately set her down on her feet. There was absolutely no way he was going to touch her if she didn’t want him too. She swayed, and he shifted to stand more directly behind her. He’d catch her if she fell again, something that seemed to be happening with increasing frequency. Another in a long list of examples of how he’d failed her. 

He waited silently, not rushing her as she took a deep breath and walked shakily up the steps. Inside their room he remained vigilant as she pulled off her clothes before half sitting half collapsing onto the bed. She was so exhausted that when she curled on her side her eyes immediately drifted shut.

A smile tugged at his lips, she hadn’t even managed to cover herself up. She looked adorable, curled on her side. The smile was short lived. The fatigue that was taking over her life was no small matter. He needed to find out what was causing it.

For now, he stopped undressing and walked over to cover her up. He resisted the urge to check her and the child over. If he did it now it would wake her up. Now more than ever she needed all the sleep she could get.

He finished undressing, leaving his smalls on then slipped into his dressing gown and slippers before settling carefully on the bed beside her. He picked up one of the books on his nightstand and began reading. Reading was the only thing that stopped him from constantly worrying about her. He’d stay awake for a few more hours before checking on her and the child.

This pregnancy was really taking its toll on Sekhmet. For some reason her body was not adapting well. She was tired all the time and nothing he tried was anything more than a very temporary solution.

All of his time working with pregnant women and delivering children and he’d never seen a pregnancy like this one. The nausea never seemed to stop and none of the remedies either he or she knew helped in the slightest. She forced herself to eat, though she didn’t have an appetite. Yet, it still didn’t seem to be enough fuel for her body to care for both her and the child.

She slept more and more every day. She was already sleeping as much as she was awake each day. He kept hoping it would pass, but so far it had only gotten worse.

And, as far as he could see there was nothing wrong either with her or the baby. He checked them both every night after Sekhmet fell asleep and whenever else she allowed him too. Both appeared to be in good health, so he had no explanation for Sekhmet’s fatigue or the repeated and ever worsening spells of dizziness.

He assumed the dizziness was from her body not getting enough nutrition for both her and the child, but it was just a guess. She seemed to eat enough, yet her body’s reaction seemed to indicate the opposite. He wanted her to stop taking jobs, to stop putting herself and the baby at risk, to rest more and to try to eat more. 

He couldn’t bring himself to fight with her about it. He’d mentioned it in passing a few times and Sekhmet always retaliated with anger. And he really didn’t feel he had the right to ask anything from her, not after what he’d done to her.

He glanced at her and felt a familiar ache. It was there every time he’d looked at her these last couple months. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the pretense of everything being fine, when they both knew it wasn’t.

He shouldn’t be in this house with her, let alone in the bed with her. He did his best not to touch her unless he needed to, which was far more frequent than he would like due to the complications of her pregnancy. But, he couldn’t make an issue out of not touching her either as it just upset Sekhmet.

He’d tried to at least sleep in a different room at first but she’d been incensed. Feeling defeated he’d returned to their bed. At least she hadn’t given him a hard time about wearing clothes to bed.

She tried to act as if nothing happened but there were things that slipped through. Every time his magic touched her she stiffened just the tiniest bit. The one time he’d unexpectedly touched her from behind she’d jerked roughly away from him a feral snarl issuing from her.

He’d apologized and made sure she always knew where he was in relation to her afterward. She’d apologized and tried to laugh it off, but Anders couldn’t buy the lie no matter how much he wanted to. The fine lines around her eyes and slight furrow in her brow belied the tension she constantly felt even if his magic no longer connected them.

He stiffened as Sekhmet rolled over and pressed against him. Her eyes fluttered open and she traced her fingers across his abdomen. Her fingers started wandering lower and he stiffened, “Sekhmet, please don’t.”

She sighed but stopped, “How long are you going to do this?”

“Let’s not argue.” He spoke softly, setting his book aside. “Besides, you should get some sleep.”

“I sleep too much as it is,” her fingers traced over the scar on his chest and he willed himself not to flinch away.

“You need to get as much sleep as your body says you need. We both need to do what’s best for the baby.” He resisted the urge to stroke his hand down the expanse of her back.

She sighed lying her head down on his abdomen and her fingers stilled. After a few silent moments he thought perhaps she’d dozed off again. He started to reach for his book again when she spoke.

“I don’t think it was Justice.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“What?” Of course it had been Justice, who else could it have been?

“I’ve been thinking about it. I know Justice and I haven’t always been on the best terms, but I don’t think he would hurt me. At least not anymore.” She reached for his hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

Anders relished the contact; the easy affection of it was such a welcome gift. He’d become accustomed to touching Sekhmet, to being affectionate, to the comfort of mere skin to skin contact. Something he’d spent most of his life starved for. These last few months, forcing himself to only touch her when necessary had hurt, had left him feeling desperately alone. The pleasure of such a simple touch quickly filled him with a warm contentment.

He took a slow breath, pulling his attention from her touch and the gratitude he felt for it. “Clearly, he would.”

“But Justice isn’t hot, his touch is cool. Whoever, or whatever, attacked me was hot like fire. It reminded me more of a rage demon then a spirit of justice. I know what Justice’s touch feels like it, and that wasn’t it.” She lifted her head to look at him as she spoke.

“Sweetheart, you’re not making any sense. Whether we like it or not it was Justice that attacked you and I was too weak to stop him.” His throat tightened at the memory.

“But what if it wasn’t?”

“It was.” 

“No, Justice has been different, calmer for months. This makes no sense. What if,” she closed her eyes and looked down, “what if what happened between Justice and I after…after the last time caused him to change, to perhaps split.”

“Split?” Anders knew she was grasping, looking for any reason to absolve him and Justice from what they’d done.

“Yes, what if all the rage, and anger, all the pain that you thought had warped Justice splintered from him when he started feeling…affection?” She sat up, “Justice, who is capable of both love and compassion, of mercy. And then, I don’t know, Vengeance maybe? Vicious, without compassion, believing that one hurt deserves another.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that happening.” He couldn’t let her try to explain it away, no matter how much he wanted to believe Justice wouldn’t hurt her.

“I’ve never heard of anyone like you before either. Or about how you used magic to touch me before. I’ve never heard of a Grey Warden siring a child before you. Anders, my love, you are a walking impossibility.” She kissed his cheek softly.

He ran his hand back through his hair. Oh, he wanted to believe her, wanted to believe so very badly that his friend wasn’t capable of hurting her. But, if he did then he’d have to believe that there were now two consciousnesses besides his own residing inside of him. And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

And one of them was vicious, had no compunction about hurting Sekhmet in the most horrifying of ways. One he couldn’t overpower. The fear of losing control to Justice had always been scary enough; this just made that fear so much worse.

_“I’ll help.”_ It was the first peep he’d heard from Justice since the night of the dinner party.

Anders clenched his teeth, more than ever he hated the feeling of someone else in his thoughts. _“You did this.”_

_“I don’t want to hurt her. I’ll help you protect her.”_ Justice spoke softly, something in his voice reminding Anders of a beaten dog.

_“Are you saying she’s right?”_ It would make things worse for Anders, but he felt himself hoping it was true all the same. He didn’t want to think Justice had violated Sekhmet in such a way.

_“I don’t know.”_ The voice was small, confused, and very un-Justice like.

_“How can you not know?”_ Anger briefly flared through Anders again, had Justice learned how to lie?

_“I don’t remember that night, I can see your memories, but I don’t remember it.”_

That was bizarre. Why wouldn’t Justice remember it? Had there been another force at work? Had he prevented Justice from knowing what was happening as Justice sometimes did to Anders? 

Maker’s ass this was a huge mess. And none of it made what happened any better. None of it changed that he, in some way, shape or form, had raped Sekhmet. 

The brevity of the attack made no difference. The possibility that it was another entity besides Justice that commandeered Anders’ body didn’t make it better, couldn’t make it any less horrific. Yet, here they both were. 

They were rationalizing, trying to find a way to move past that night. A path that they could both live with, without having to leave each other. And no matter how much he hated himself and hated what had happened to Sekhmet, if she wanted him to stay he would. He needed her, needed to be with her.

He took a deep breath trying to be honest. “I don’t know, Sekhmet. It feels like we’re grasping at straws, trying to find a way to be okay with what happened.”

“You’re still my husband.” Her eyes were soft as she watched him.

He snorted, “Being your husband doesn’t preclude me from being a monster.”

She scooted closer to him and touched his cheek. “I’m not saying any of this is alright, Anders. I’m saying I’d still rather have my husband than lose him. I’d rather keep working on the two of us.”

“Do you really believe it wasn’t Justice that attacked you or are you just trying to make him and I feel better?” He needed the truth from her.

“I really believe it. Even when it was happening I wasn’t sure it was him. He burned me, Anders, not with electricity but heat. Even in the past when Justice hurt me he never burned me like that when he touched me.” She seemed so earnest; he couldn’t help but believe her. Or, it was his own guilt hoping she was right.

As for him, he’d have to think it over. Maybe he would do some research and see if such a thing was even possible. It was another complication, another mess he’d have to try sort through. Another reason he should stay away from Sekhmet, should leave before the child was born. 

Sekhmet’s assertions that she accepted all of him were fine for her, but their child would have no choice. He’d have to find a way to leave at some point, for everyone’s safety. Justice chaffed and protested the thought. 

The spirit hated the thought of leaving Sekhmet’s side as much as Anders did. Anders would have to find a way to convince both himself and the spirit that it was the best thing for everyone. And more than that, he’d have to find a way to make it permanent. 

For now, he had no willpower to leave her. The only thing in the world he wanted at this very moment was her. Slowly, so as not to alarm her he bent forward and kissed her forehead, “I’ll look into it.”

She pressed against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I still love you, Anders.”

He closed his eyes, arms twining loosely around her. “I don’t know how you could, but…I am grateful.”

“Then prove it.” She loosened her grip and kissed his cheek, “Make love to me.”

A tear slid down his cheek, it hurt to have her so close, to have her touching him so gently. It hurt to know that even though she still was struggling with his touch she was pushing herself to take him as a lover again. It tore at him that she’d ignore her needs to try to satiate his, or what she thought he needed at least. 

“I can’t.” Pushing the words out was difficult, his throat ached constricted as it was with emotion.

She leaned her forehead against his cheek, “Please Anders, please.” The pain in her voice was like jagged nails tearing at his flesh.

“No, I…” His train of thought was interrupted by her hand grasping his cock through his smalls. His body briefly reacted to her touch, but the image of her splayed on the floor burned and crying quickly doused any desire he might have briefly felt.

She let him go and sat back on her heels. She took a shuddering breath and turned, climbing out of their bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” it was a soft murmur. She went to her wardrobe and pulled out a chemise slipping it over her head. She slipped on a pair of smalls before she returned to their bed.

“You didn’t need to put clothes on, Sekhmet.” 

She shrugged and pulled the covers up. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He scowled, “There’s nothing about your body that makes me uncomfortable.” 

She huffed, “Fine, you just don’t like it anymore. Either way, no reason to force you to look at it.”

He shook his head, a sound half way between a sob and laugh stumbled past his lips. “Don’t like it? Sekhmet, you’re beautiful.”

She laid down and snuggled down, “Right, beautiful and damaged, despoiled, used.”

“What? No.” Hesitantly he touched her shoulder. “My inability to…to make love to you has nothing to do with anything like that. You are not damaged or despoiled or anything else. You’re still beautiful, still the woman I love and I find you very attractive. But the memory is too fresh, I see it in my mind again and again every time I even think about sex with you.”

She rolled over and looked at him, “It wasn’t you.”

He sighed, “It was this body. I don’t understand how you could want me to touch you. It was these fingers that held you, this body that pinned you down, this…” He swallowed unable to finish.

“I need to know that we’re capable of coming back from this, that you still love me.” She was studying the weave of the sheet instead of looking at him.

“Of course I still love you. Why would you even ask me that?” He done everything he could to show her he was still there for her, that he would stay at her side.

“You look at me differently, you hate touching me, you don’t even kiss me anymore.” She still wasn’t looking at him.

He bent and kissed the top of her head. “Give me time, meus parnum leana. The images are too fresh.” They were too fresh for both of them. She might think that forcing herself to act as if nothing happened would make things better, but Anders suspected it would just make things worse.

She was quiet, unmoving. He couldn’t bring himself to have sex with her; he just couldn’t no matter how much she thought she needed it. He was convinced it would make things worse instead of better.

But he had an idea that might convince her he still loved her. “Look at me, my love.”

She slowly lifted her head, red rimmed eyes seeking out his. A tear track wound its way down her cheek. Gently, carefully he wiped it away with his thumb. He scooted down in the bed until they were looking straight at each other.

He reached under the blanket and sought out her hand, twining his long fingers between hers. “I can’t make love to you, not yet. But, maybe I can give you something better, something far more precious to me. Something I haven’t given to anyone since I was dragged off to the circle tower in Ferelden.”

She was watching him, curious and clearly confused. 

He nearly laughed at himself. He’d kept this simple thing to himself for decades now. He was so used to hiding it, to purposely forgetting it’s existence that even now when he wanted to share it he was hesitant to speak it aloud.

He shifted, leaning forward and whispered in her ear. “My real name hasn’t been spoken in decades. Even before the circle I rarely used it.” He hesitated; it was oddly difficult to speak the word. He was Anders now, for better or worse. That other person, whoever he was, had been long gone for far too many years. Speaking the name now seemed akin to summoning the dead.

“Anders?” A soft prompt as he hovered near her ear, struggling to push the name past his lips.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself, to push aside the foolish hesitance. “It was Lailoken.”

“Lailoken?” She spoke the word haltingly, the word as unfamiliar on his tongue as on hers.

He moved back and nodded, squeezing her hand gently.

She snorted and didn’t look happy. “You married me without even telling me your real name?”

This isn’t how he pictured this going. Of course, he’d never pictured telling anyone his birth name again. “No, I am Anders now. Including myself, only four people ever knew that name and two of them are dead. Anders is my name.”

“Why Anders?” 

“My…guardian started calling me it when I was fairly young. I look like one of the Anders, always have. Maybe it was another way for her to hide my parentage. I don’t really know. I just know it stuck. I was introduced to people by Anders and it was the name I gave when asked. Even at the circle, they assumed Anders was a nickname but it was the only name I gave them. I’ve been Anders far longer than I was ever Lailoken.” 

She looked at least a little placated, “Why tell me now?”

He shrugged, not completely sure. “That name is the best kept secret I have. I love you, I trust you, and I wanted you to know.”

Her eyes searched his face for a few moments. “Thank you. I’ll try to be patient, but sooner or later you’re going to have to realize the only way this marriage works is if we’re not afraid to touch each other.”

He nodded, “I know.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll work on it.”

She snuggled back into the bed, fingers still intertwined with his. Her eyes drifted shut and it was only a few minutes before she’d drifted off to sleep again. Anders’ heart was racing, telling her his name had made him extremely nervous.

Kissing her had made him nervous, even holding her hand while she slept was difficult for him. He wanted to enfold her into his arms, hold her tight and kiss her again and again. Yet, the idea of touching her was still hard, still didn’t feel right. 

He didn’t deserve to touch her. He couldn’t comprehend how she could tolerate his proximity let alone his touch. And after tonight he had no more secrets to leverage, to create an intimacy between them without a physical component. 

Sooner or later he was going to have to find a way to move past the image of her on the floor violated, burned, and crying. Or, he’d have to find the strength to leave. Right now neither felt possible.


	77. Sometimes It Is Best To Forget

Anders awoke and found the bed next to him empty. He slipped out of the bed adjusting his dressing gown; it had twisted in his slumber. Opening the bedroom door he peeked out but the house was completely dark.

He picked his way carefully down the stairs and headed to the library. Seeing her pale silhouette sitting on the window sill he sighed and made his way up the library stairs to her. “Another dream?”

She jerked at the sound of his voice nearly falling from the window. “I,” she paused and took a breath, “yes, another one.”

Anders crossed to her and caressed her arm. Every time he touched her it became easier. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

She bit her lip and standing this close to her he could see she had been crying. “You don’t sleep enough as it is, I didn’t want to bother you.”

He gave her a small smile, “I can’t sleep without you anymore; you know that.” He gently pulled her leg a little so she was sitting facing him. Taking a calming breath he stepped between her legs. Leaning forward he rested his forehead on hers. “Want to talk about it?”

She moved and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. Anders felt her tremble against him and wrapped his arms around her. Sekhmet sobbed quietly against his shoulder for several minutes before she picked up her head and wiped away her tears.

He still had no idea how she could touch him or want him to touch her. But, as they stumbled back towards each other he was grateful. Holding her now, even through her tears felt so good, so close to whatever mess constituted normal between the two of them.

She wiped at the wet patch on his dressing gown, “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He curled his finger under her chin and tilted it up to look at him. “Was it the same one?” Her family so often haunted her dreams.

She nodded, “Always the same, I watch them all die and I’m frozen, I can’t move.” He saw tears well up in her eyes again, “What is the point of all the things we have done if I can’t save them?”

It hurt to see her in pain, “Bethany isn’t dead, love. She’s a warden, it’s not that bad.”

She scrunched up her face and pushed away from him a bit, “She hates it.”

He sighed, it was an argument they had often, one that never had a solution, just more frustration for both of him. He wasn’t sure he could stomach another argument. He didn’t have the energy for it anymore.

She didn’t seem any more inclined to argue about it than he was; she pulled on the ties to his robe and slipped her arms inside of it. Pulling him close to her again she wrapped her legs around him as well, sliding them under the fabric of his robe.

A tremor slipped through him. It was the most contact he’d had with her in months. “Your hands are freezing.” He gave a half hearted attempt to pull away. As much as a part of him wanted to put some distance between them, a bigger part of him missed her desperately. He wondered idly when the tip in balance had happened, from afraid to touch her to missing her so much.

She wrapped herself around him more tightly and nuzzled his neck. Anders felt a flush of warmth spread across his chest and up his neck. A small moan escaped his lips as she ran the tip of her tongue around the shell of his ear then tugged on the lobe a little.

Holding her was one thing, but he wasn’t sure either of them was ready for more. “What are you doing?” 

Sekhmet ran her hands up his back using her short nails to score his skin lightly. Fuck, that felt good. His head fell back at the feeling. She ran one hand up into his loose hair and grabbed a handful of it. Was she was trying to drive him mad?

She knew exactly how much he liked having his hair pulled, knew exactly what it did to him. Her breath ghosted across his flesh, a warm caress against his skin. He had to make her stop this now. But he froze when she moved to the other side of his neck biting him where his shoulder met his neck.

A soft gasp escaped his lips and desire raced down his spine. “Sekhmet.” His voice held a tone of warning, she had to stop.

She pulled on his hair again and squeezed him with her legs. A strangled noise issued from his throat. He wanted more, wanted to feel her skin under his fingers, wanted to be inside of her, wanted desperately to make love to her. But they both knew it was a bad idea. 

She wasn’t ready, and he wasn’t sure he was either. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready again. Every time they tried to be intimate he saw her on the floor hurt and weeping. 

Sekhmet was rubbing her body against him, running her tongue across his collarbone before biting him sharply again. He gasped again in surprise; his hips rolled forward rubbing against her. It was an effort to pry his eyes back open when he realized they were closed. 

He couldn’t lose himself to the feelings she was stirring in him. “Stop,” he all but begged.

She raked her other hand into his hair gripping another handful of it. Holding his head bent backward with his hair she ran the tip of her tongue over his adam’s apple before biting his neck nearly hard enough to draw blood. He groaned in pleasure, feeling himself getting hard from the attention. 

His body screamed for more of her. He let go of her and braced his arms against the sides of the window sill trying to gather the will to push himself away from her. Every time she pushed for sex it was harder to say no to her.

And tonight she was being aggressive, gone were the soft touches and gentle attempts at persuasion. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to make him respond, how to make his body crave her. He’d been so wrapped up in the fire she’d scratched and bitten into him he’d been slow to react properly. This had already gone much farther than any other attempt she’d made. 

Her legs tightened around him, pulling his body against her and ground herself against him. Anders’ cock twitched with need, it had been months since he had touched her like this. He hadn’t dared, couldn’t bring himself to since the night of the dinner party.

“Please,” he pleaded, desperate for her to at least give him a moment to think, to do what was right.

She ignored his plea and kept her legs tightly wrapped around him while she peeled off her chemise. He cursed as she wrapped hers arms around him again, nothing between them now but her smalls. Her tits were pressed against his naked skin and he could feel the stiffened peaks of her nipples pressed against his chest. 

There it was, stark and sobering as being plunged into a trough of cold water. The image of her, naked, violated, quietly crying. Desire was replaced with revulsion at what he’d nearly allowed to happen, and self-hatred. How could he let her touch him when they both knew what he was capable of?

He tried to pull free, “Sekhmet, I can’t.”

She cupped her hands around his face, “You can’t stay there, Anders. It’s the past, let it go. Be here with me now.”

A tear slipped from his eye and trailed slowly down his cheek. Sekhmet leaned forward and kissed it away. He tried to turn away from her gentle touch. “Please, this is wrong.” The words felt heavy like bricks tumbling from his lips.

“Why is it wrong? You’re my husband, the man I love. You still love me, don’t you?” Her thumbs skimmed across his cheekbones.

“You know I do.” But love couldn’t fix everything. 

She turned his face back to look at her. “Then show me,” she kissed his lips softly.

He ignored the contentment her kiss stirred in him. He couldn’t let her brush this away like she did with so many of the other terrible things he had done. “You don’t need sex to prove I love you.” 

Her eyes closed and a pained look contorted her features. “I need sex because every time I feel aroused by something I get dragged back to that room, to that night. I need you to wash it away for me, make me forget. I still feel trapped in there and so do you.”

Was there any more clear proof that it was too soon for them to try this again? “There are some wounds only time can heal, my love.” 

“No,” her eyes opened and her voice was filled with anger and desperation. “You can heal me, Anders. You’re the best damned healer that ever lived.” 

“Sekhmet…” 

He was interrupted when her anger broke and the pain took over, a small sob escaped her lips, “Please, I can’t live like this.” Her head hung down, “I feel broken, discarded like refuse. I feel disgusting and so very alone.”

Maker’s breath, she was ripping his heart out slowly. He lifted her head gently, “Darling, I’m here. You’re not alone…”

She cut him off again, “You’re only half here, Anders. You can’t pull yourself out of that damned memory.”

Perhaps she was right. He spent hours going over what happened, trying to figure out what he could have done differently. He tried to determine if there really were another entity besides him and Justice. Every touch from her instantly put him back in that moment, instantly terrified him that he’d do it again.

She shook her head softly, and brushed her thumb across his lips. “I’m sorry.”

He kissed her thumb. “There is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry for, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Why in Thedas would she apologize to him?

“You keep acting like I’m some poor little damsel that needs to be saved from you. I don’t, Anders. I need you to be my husband.” She sighed softly, “You think you’re the villain in this mess, but the truth is that you were as violated as I was. You were forced into it as much as I was.” She leaned her forehead against his, “I am so sorry, my love, but we were both raped that night.”

A sob broke free from Anders, pain had filled him as she spoke and was spilling from him. Tears slid down his cheeks, his throat tightened and his chest ached. 

She kissed his lips softly, “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“No,” he whispered it. She was wrong, he’d hurt her. He was always hurting her. He was dangerous, poisonous, treacherous.

She nodded, “You know I’m right. It’s why this is so hard for you.”

He shook his head, tears still falling, another sob breaking free. No, no, no, no. He couldn’t have sex with her because he didn’t want to hurt her again. He didn’t want her to relive that night. He…

He wrapped his arms around her and sobbed against her shoulder. No…She was trying to give him an out again. She wanted so much for him not to be a monster that she was grasping onto any idea that would exonerate him, no matter how much of a stretch it was, no matter how ridiculous.

She held him tight and whispered, “I’m sorry,” against his ear again.

Oh, Maker’s breath why did her words hurt him so damned much? He cried on her shoulder, sobbed and shook. His mind still trying to refute what she said, but every protestation was quieter, less sure than the one before. Was he grasping as well?

Whatever had happened it hurt, a great tide of pain swept through him. It spilled from his mouth as noisy sobs, from his eyes as a torrent of tears. He emptied it onto her shoulder, held safely in the nest of her arms. He purged it from his body, at least for now.

She stroked his back soothingly as he cried. Somehow managing to be a pillar of strength even after all she’d been through. She held and comforted him, held the body that had hurt her so much, comforted the man that one way or another was host to the monster that had visited unspeakable horrors on her.

His little lioness was a miracle.

Slowly, his sobs faded away. He didn’t know how to feel about what she had said. He supposed he would never really get a full grasp on what had happened that night. 

He lifted his head to pull away from her, but he didn’t get far. She slipped her hands back into his hair and pulled him into a kiss. Not the gentle kisses of the past weeks but a hungry kiss full of need so strong it nearly made Anders weak in the knees. Breaking from the kiss Anders’ voice was ragged.

“You don’t want this.” He wasn’t even sure he really wanted it. His body wanted her, always wanted her. But his mind was a different matter. He was still reeling from the emotional dam she’d ripped down a few moments ago.

She trailed kisses up his jaw to his ear, “Yes, I do. Make me yours again, Anders.” She slid her hands down his back and gripped his ass, pulling him against her as she ground her sex against him again.

Make her his? Possibly the most terrible idea he’d heard in weeks. He tried to step away from her, but she clung to him even tighter.

Anders took a deep, shaky breath, she knew what she wanted. It didn’t seem she was willing to take another no. He wasn’t even sure he could perform. He hadn’t been able to maintain an erection since the dinner party.

He had no will to refuse her now. He was too raw, too hollowed out. If she wanted this, if she wasn’t willing to let it lie he’d try to do as she asked.

He would make it sweet, make it tender for her. “Let me take you back to bedroom.” His lips brushed against her ear, “Let me make love to you.” His words were breathy and barely above a whisper. Maybe being in their bed would help him remain grounded in the present.

She shoved his robe off his shoulders and he closed his eyes as he let it fall. His heart was racing, fear making its beat hard and irregular. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

She reached between them and gripped his cock through his smalls. Now that he’d made the decision to give her what she wanted his body reacted immediately. He was hard as steel almost instantly. Her touch felt so good it seemed to be battling back the fear.

“No. Here, now. Make me forget this past year, all of it. The only thing I want to remember is that I love you, and you love me.” She nuzzled his neck, “I don’t know how to live without you. Living this half life is killing me.” She scratched her nails roughly down his chest. 

Impatiently, she tugged at the ties of his smalls and pulled them off him exposing him to the chilly air of the estate. He barely noticed anything but her touch. Worried he’d lose his erection again he focused on the feeling of her fingers. 

She traced her tongue in whorls over the skin behind his ear. “Fuck me until all I remember is that I’m yours.”

He growled, desire made his skin tingle even as his mind tried to slip back but he concentrated on her. Sekhmet’s crystal blue eyes locked on his, desire darkening them. Her small hand wrapped around his long neglected cock making it twitch hard. She tightened her grip on him slightly, stroking him maddeningly slowly. 

Swirling her thumb over the head she expertly stirred his desire, drew out the need inside him making him dizzy. He only realized how far away from this could all get when he picked her up a little and tore the smalls off of her. Nervous, he tried to set her back on the window sill but she gripped him tighter.

She relinquished her hold on his cock, instead wrapping her arms tight around his neck. Her thighs were back around his waist. He wanted to be gentle, to be sweet with her, but she was making it difficult, rubbing herself against his cock. 

Anders was rapidly losing control and he could feel it. It had been too long and she was too needy. 

He gripped her hips, grateful she held his gaze. It anchored him, held him there with her. After a few seconds of fumbling he found her wet and ready for him. He hesitated. 

Maker, it was wrong, but he needed her, wanted her. 

“Please Anders,” her voice was so desperate, so filled with longing and sadness. It felt like her soul was calling to him, begging him to give her what she wanted. How could she want this? How could she want him after what he’d done to her?

Maker’s breath, he wished he was a stronger man. A stronger man would have stayed with her and kept his hands to himself. A stronger man would have walked away altogether because no matter what he wanted to give her, to do for her, he always ended up hurting her.

But he wasn’t a stronger man. He was a weak and selfish man, a man who loved to be wanted. A man who loved to be loved no matter how utterly and completely wrong it was. He was going to give her what she asked for, because he was too weak not to.

_“Please don’t let me hurt her.”_ After that all he could think about was the tight wetness that engulfed him as he entered her and the word that had started the whole mess in the first place. “Mine.” He growled into her ear as he stroked into her faster and faster.

_“Yes, more, deeper, I need more of her. Fill her, fill her completely. She’s mine. Mine!”_ His whole body bloomed hot with the thought. 

It was desperate, the two of them clinging to each other, trying to find a way back to each other through the connection of their bodies. Her hips undulated against him, riding him as much as he was fucking her. Her fingers combed up into his hair and she kissed him.

The kiss, the taste of her, that storm on the Amaranthine coast that was so much her rolled through him. He reveled in it, reveled in the feel of her wanting him so desperately. He lost himself in her lips, her skin, the feel of her gripping him inside of her.

It was like a great weight lifting from his chest. The two of them entwined, needing each other, taking and giving their fill. For now, just this moment mattered. 

She broke the kiss, and stared intently into his eyes. “I love you, Lai.” Her voice was a whisper, but it was filled with so much hope.

He felt a flutter in his chest, like his heart had forgotten its rhythm. A rush of power surged through him. His magic unfurled, not gradually, but all at once, engulfing them both, wrapping around them, pulling them together. 

_“There!”_ his mind cried out in triumph as the connection between them was completed.

It hurt. Her pain and joy and need all hit him at once. His heart was too full; felt like it would burst in his chest. He hadn’t felt her like this, hadn’t been able to forge a connection between them with his magic since they’d lost the baby. 

The thought came and went with a flash. He had to let that go. Instead, he relished her emotions washing over him, relished the feel of her body touched by his magic, and sliding against his flesh. 

She’d brought this back, re-forged the connection between them and he was beyond grateful.

Her breath was coming in fast gasps as his name fell from her lips again and again. She called him Anders as often as she called him Lai. And he loved the sound of it, the feel of it each time. Sweet Andraste, his little lioness was amazing, her passion nearly overwhelming him.

It didn’t take her long to reach her peak, arching her back and calling out his name so loudly he was sure they had awoken the whole household. He couldn’t stop a grin at the sound of it, he had missed that sound. Yes, he’d give her what she wanted tonight. 

He’d give her pleasure until she was weak and breathless, until she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He’d be her whole world tonight. Because she asked it of him and he so desperately needed it.

Her voice whispered in his ear, “Come inside me, Anders. Make me yours.” 

He braced himself against the side of the windowsill with his hand as his body reacted to her words and he spilled himself inside her. He cried out as his whole body seemed to clench and thrust up into her. The strength of his orgasm surprised him as she used her muscles to clench tight around him. 

She milked him with her body, drawing his orgasm out longer and longer until he thought he would pass out. His body became sensitive and each squeeze over stimulated him even further. His mind screamed at him to stop her. But he didn’t, couldn’t, the torture was so sweet and worth it, because it was her. 

He let her keep milking his sensitive cock until she was sated and stopped on her own. His legs trembled and his cock ached from the over stimulation. He briefly thought his cock had better get used to the feeling; he planned on abusing it plenty tonight.

“I love you.” It came out on an exhalation of air, a little dazed sounding. Feeling unsteady he set her gently on the windowsill and this time she let him. He kissed her softly, “You’re crazy you know that, right?” They were both crazy.

She gave him a small smile. “I don’t care.”

He leaned against her and kissed the top of her head. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He knew he was being overly gentle, overly tender with her. He figured it was because of the less than sweet re-introduction to their sexual relationship he’d just given her. 

“No, I feel good,” she sighed contentedly, “I feel right.” She smiled a little, “Your magic, how did..?”

He smiled back, “You. It’s always you. You did it, found it, pulled it from me. You, my amazing little lioness.” 

He kissed her softly again and scooped her up. His long legs eating up the distance he headed down the steps quickly, leaving their clothes in the library. He planned on hours more of reacquainting themselves. 

She giggled as he carried her; heading up to their room and kicked the door closed behind him. He dropped a quick silence spell over the room, hoping she’d get rather loud. He planned on giving her plenty of reasons too.

Laying her on the bed he pushed her legs apart. His hair slipped in cover his face when he leaned down and kissed her inner thigh. The long fingers she so loved splayed over her abdomen and held her down anticipating that she would try to sit up. Kissing her a little higher on her other thigh he heard her breath catch.

“Anders, what are you…” She stopped talking and gasped as he let the tip of his tongue slip up between her folds.

He ran his tongue around her clit before dipping into her. Andraste’s tits, they even tasted good together. He had to exert more pressure to her abdomen to keep her down as she tried to move away from his questing tongue.

He lapped at her slowly, the musk of her sex and his own salty taste a heady reminder that he had been inside her just minutes before. He nibbled on her slightly swollen labia and suckled her beautifully engorged clit. His tongue swiped over her in broad swipes and slid slowly inside of her to taste them again and again. 

He had to hold her down, one hand on her hip the other on her abdomen and teased her sweet sex until she stopped questioning him and begged for more instead. Her legs moved restlessly around him as he leisurely enjoyed her. Her hands gripped the bed sheets as she struggled not to thrash. When she covered her face with an arm he flicked his tongue over her clit in short rapid strokes. 

Her back arched and she cried out as she came again. He licked her clean again, relishing the taste of her, relishing every little squirm and mewl from her lips. Finally, he pulled back and smiled at her.

His magic hung over the two of them like a mist. A small part of him wanted to know what had been so different this time, wanted to know why the connection had returned this time. But a larger part of him feared obsessing about the how; worried it would take the connection away again.

So instead, he focused on her. “How do you want to cum next on my cock, my tongue, or my fingers?” He licked his lips, hoping she wanted his tongue again.

She smiled a languid, contented and slightly mischievous smile. “I want a few more on your wicked tongue.”

He grinned, delighted to be spending more time enjoying the delectable taste of her. “A few more? Always happy to oblige.”

He bent down again, tracing his tongue around her clit. He loved the exotic fruit taste of her, loved how his magic let him feel the pleasure shivering through her. He reached up and intertwined his fingers with hers. 

He loved her so much, had missed her, had missed the connection between them. Her emotions were bitter sweet though. He could feel her love, her joy, but he could also feel the desperateness that had been taking over her life as of late. And a totally unexpected feeling: fear.

He stopped and looked up at her, “Sekhmet?”

She sighed and flopped back dramatically on the bed, “Don’t, don’t ruin this, please.”

“I don’t want to.” He didn’t but he wasn’t going to pretend everything was alright when she was scared. 

Her eyes drifted shut and she spoke softly, her hand caressing his shoulder. “Then don’t. I need something good, something clean, and pure, and happy, and just ours.”

He could understand that sentiment. He’d never felt quite so much like he needed something as he needed a little light in his life right now. He could feel the irritation bubbling in her, the exasperation. 

He’d forgotten what a double edged sword his magic entwining with her could be. It was going to take time to get used to again. He took a deep breath, “Just tell me it’s not me you’re afraid of.”

She sat up abruptly and cupped his chin, “I have never been afraid of you Anders and I never will.”

Yes, he was left with questions, but as long as that fear wasn’t directed at him he could wait for the answer. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, “Absolutely. Now, are you going to put that fiendishly talented tongue back to work pleasing me or are you going to keep using it to upset me?”

He lowered his head back down between her thighs and pushed his tongue slowly inside of her. Her fingers twined into his hair and tightened, “Good choice,” she moaned.

He licked and sucked and teased her, pushing two more orgasms from her before she pulled him up by his hair to kiss him. He enjoyed the kiss, breaking it to chuckle gently as she tried to roll them over. She mock glowered at him and he obliged her by rolling them until he was on his back and she was astride him.

They stayed up all night making love. Both of them were exhausted, but happy come morning. Anders stood up, stretching as the morning light wafted through the windows. 

“Where are you going?” Sekhmet asked sleepily.

“To draw a bath, we’re both rather sticky.”

She stood up and he stumbled a step forward when she jumped onto his back, “Uff, Sekhmet, what are you doing?”

“You should carry me,” she giggled, “the floor is cold.”

He laughed, “You could have just asked, darling.”

She snuggled against his back, “I’d rather just climb you like a tree, a big, warm, beautiful tree.”

And how could he possibly argue with that?

********

Sekhmet stretched slowly, she relished the ache between her legs, the burn in her thighs. Anders had outdone himself last night. She stretched again, enjoying the feeling while she could, as soon as Anders realized she was sore he’d heal her.

They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other once they had finally torn down the wall between them. Not even the limits of their bodies had slowed them down thanks to Anders’ magic. He’d had given her everything she asked for, everything she even hinted at that she wanted.

Thinking about it now her fingers roamed to tentatively explore the sensitive and swollen lips of her sex. She’d never been as completely and totally fucked as she had been last night. She should be sated for at least a week.

Instead, she felt desire stirring slowly with her. That wasn’t exactly right, she felt need for Anders stirring in her. His magic’s unexpected return had ripped much of the anxiety that had been eating at her sweet mage away last night. He’d been more fully himself than he had in a long, long while.

A night of reveling in each other and the newly rediscovered connection between them could not possibly fix everything the two of them had ripped asunder in the madness and grief of the last year. Some of it would always be there, a faded stain they would both learn to ignore even while they could never completely forget. But, she had been earnest when she’d told Anders she wanted to forget the past year.

Her hand slid up and rested on her slowly growing belly. She needed Anders at her side and she would do whatever it took to keep him there. She had lost everyone else she’d loved, but she would keep Anders. And more than that, she would keep him safe.

She turned to look at Anders in the late afternoon sunlight. Slowly, she pulled the covers slowly off the incredible specimen of man that was her husband. The sun loved Anders far more fondly than it had any right too. 

He lay sprawled on his back rays of light caressing him, highlighting his beauty. Not for the first time she wondered if it had been Anders’ rare beauty as much as his power and willingness that had led Justice to chose her sweet husband. Justice was still an unwelcome thought and for now she shoved him out of her mind.

A warm blanket of contentment had enshrouded her. She finally had Anders back. The sex had been incredible, cathartic even. But, it was Anders she had been after.

Unable to resist touching him, she reached out and traced her finger lightly over the geometric pattern that covered most of his thigh. Touching her beloved when he was asleep was always a risk, but it was worth it to see the smile that was slowly curling his lips right now. He laid still, eyes closed but smiling and let her trace several of his tattoos slowly, one by one. His thigh, the dragon on his lower abdomen, the griffon on his chest, she skipped the one on his neck, and finally her fingers skated softly over the one on his cheek.

He turned his head and kissed her fingers, opening his eyes slowly. “Hello, darling.”

“Hello, beautiful,” she smiled and kissed him softly. “I missed you.”

He smiled again, languid, content. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “I missed you, too.” He kissed her again, slow, and sweet. When he finally broke the kiss he touched his forehead to hers and gently took her hand. “Thank you, Sekhmet.”

She kissed his cheek and nuzzled his neck wrapping her arms around him. “We were both lost.”

They laid there for a long time, just holding each other. She listened to the sound of his breathing, felt the warmth of his body against hers, and treasured the moment. She would hold onto this feeling as long as she could this time. 

She shivered a little when she felt his magic gliding against her skin. Its smell filled the air, and it was the most comforting scent she could imagine. The smell of icy mountain lake always made her feel safe and this was no different. She felt safe and loved.

Anders’ breath caught and he hugged her tighter. “I’m not worthy of that, Sekhmet, but I am so grateful.”

She snuggled against him, and giggled softly. “Not worthy? You’ve saved more people than anyone I’ve ever known. I cannot even count the number of people just in Kirkwall who owe their lives to you. Even mage hating elves owe their lives to you.”

He snorted before turning more somber, “But Justice…”

She cut him off, “The only thing that has ever been able to stop Justice is you.”

“He still hurt you.” She could hear the shame in his voice.

She shifted and held his face making him look at her. “And you saved me, Anders. You always save me, always. No matter what he is, no matter whom or what you’ve come up against, in the end you’re always stronger, for me.”

His eyes teared up a little and his shoulders shook the slightest. “I love you so damned much.”

She smiled and kissed his briefly before hugging him again. “I know. I really do. I just hope you know how much I love you.”

He kissed her hair, “I can feel it, now. It’s a bit terrifying to be honest.” His hand slid down her back and she felt his magic, formed this time, healing, sweep over her. “I’ll do my best to take care of both of you, I swear it.”


	78. Talking Heads

Sekhmet smiled as she felt Anders come up behind her. He took the book from her fingers and set it down on the desk. Slowly, he turned her around with a grin on his face. 

“Pardon me, darling, but I missed you in my arms.” He slipped an arm around her waist and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Sandal came into the room chattering away, carrying a stool. Beside him was Orana who had her lute and was smiling shyly, a sure sign she’d been speaking to Anders. Poor girl couldn’t seem to get past her infatuation.

Sekhmet couldn’t even blame her. Anders was not only the most beautiful man she’d ever met but he treated Orana like family. More than that, he loved to play at courtly manners with the elf, not that he was encouraging her crush exactly; he just enjoyed making her smile. Anders suspected Orana had smiled all too seldom in Tevinter. He was determined that her life in Kirkwall would be vastly different. 

He made sure Orana had anything she needed as the girl could never bring her to ask for anything. Her lessons had progressed from simple reading and writing to arithmetic, geography, and history. Both he and Bodahn worked on instilling her with confidence and teaching her anything she might need to know if for some reason she ended up on her own.

Sekhmet imagined no one had ever paid that kind of attention to Orana before. Sekhmet only hoped that as time passed Orana would grow out of her crush. She didn’t want to see the young elf get hurt.

Orana settled onto the stool and began to play a soft and sweet tune. Anders pulled Sekhmet closer making her laugh as he sighed contentedly and glided gracefully around the large room with her in his arms. Sandal giggled madly and began spinning slowly around in circles of his own.

Bodahn stood in the doorway watching with a faint smile on his lips. Sekhmet felt grateful for him again. He’d stayed while she and Anders had fallen apart completely this last year. She knew he had been the only one maintaining any sense of normalcy to their lives.

Overcome with the realization of all that he had been doing behind the scenes to keep their lives running as smoothly as possible she stepped out of Anders’ embrace and walked to Bodahn. “May I have this dance, serrah?”

Bodahn’s smile widened and he stepped forward taking her in his own arms. Anders, nonplussed, walked over to Sandal and held out his hands. Laughing, the boy took Anders’ hands. The two of them circled slowly around the room, following Bodahn and Sekhmet.

“You know, you’ve paid any debt you may have thought you owed me over a thousand fold by now.”

His smile widened, “I know you never thought I owed you any debt, messere. For that I am eternally grateful.”

“I just don’t want you to feel trapped here, Bodahn.” 

His eyes softened, “I’ve never felt trapped here. You have given Sandal and I something we’ve never really had before, a steady home.”

“You’re both welcome here, or wherever I am, as long as you wish. You’re family. But please, don’t stay out of a sense of obligation to us.”

He turned and looked at Sandal, Sekhmet was sure an air of sadness settled over him. “Thank you, messere.” He turned back to her and smiled, even laughing a little as the tune picked up speed and the two of them danced faster to meet it.

As the song ended Bodahn begged off and slipped from the room. Sandal followed him, but Orana kept playing. In moments Sekhmet was back in Anders’ arms.

“Mmm, that’s better.” He murmured. 

“Not getting jealous of Bodahn are you?” She teased.

“Not anymore,” he teased back. 

He leaned forward and kissed her even as his kept them moving gracefully around the room. Anders really was an incredible dancer. It was a shame he disliked being in public so much. She rather thought the world should see her beautiful husband dance.

Anders had a stately grace to him few could match. Sekhmet had long ago given up on trying to match him in that respect. Instead, she gave herself over to him and let his innate gracefulness make up, at least in part, of her complete lack of any. 

Tyr came bounding into the room, Sandal returning on his heels. The two raced around the room somehow managing to avoid Anders and Sekhmet. Her dog barked happily as he played with Sandal. 

The last few weeks had been as close to bliss as Sekhmet thought was possible in her current condition. The side effects of her pregnancy hadn’t diminished and it was taking its toll on her, but between her and Anders things were finally good again.

The air of anxiety that had hung over the house for months seemed to dissipate. Everyone in the house noticed and their lives became lighter, happier, more filled with joy. Anders was a large part of that. This little impromptu dance party was not the first time he’d incited a bit of fun in the estate.

With the magical connection between them rediscovered Anders was a man reborn. He seemed tireless and much more playful than he’d been at all in the past year, or indeed pretty much since she’d met him. He reveled in their home life.

He loved reading to her or to Sandal and Orana. Dancing had become a common occurrence in the estate. He’d spend hours petting and playing with Lord and Lady, and had even taken to play fighting with Tyr. It was a particular source of joy for her that Tyr adored her darling husband as much as she did.

Anders played silly games with Orana and Sandal and more serious ones with both her and Bodahn. He’d taken up training to fight without his magic again. And although he refused to spar with Sekhmet, he let her watch and welcomed her input. Watching him train until he was stripped to the waist and covered in sweat was one of her favorite pastimes, as was what usually followed. 

Anders was constantly a new source of amazement to her.

Playfulness was not the only change in him. He dragged out the research they hadn’t touched in ages and talked Sekhmet into working on it again. Anders dove into it with abandon, frequently working on it for hours on end. And while it was fun to watch him get excited when they found something new, pacing and speaking almost too quickly to understand, she wasn’t sure who he was trying to keep occupied more, her or himself.

She’d stopped taking jobs, out of sheer exhaustion. She couldn’t hide how worn she was and it wasn’t worth the anxiety in Anders’ eyes. So, she stayed home and slept, ate when she could manage it, and let Anders feel secure in the knowledge she wasn’t taxing herself.

And while she missed taking jobs it was worth it to have this time with Anders. He smiled and laughed more in these three weeks than he had in the last three years. It was such a gift to see him so relaxed and happy. She’d give anything for their lives to stay just like this; even the nausea and fatigue were worth it.

Anders whisked her around the room one more time before urging her to sit on the sofa. He immediately walked over to Orana and took the lute from her hands setting it down gently. Orana giggled and blushed when he took her hand and put his other arm around her. “Dance with me sweet Orana, our lady tires but I am feeling merry.”

Sekhmet smiled, he was right. Just a few turns around the room had her starting to tire. She didn’t dwell on it, instead giggling as she watched the two of them. 

Orana was crimson all the way to the tips of her ears, but the smile on her face was sheer delight as Anders danced her around the room without any music. Whatever tune he was following in his head must have been a lively one. He flashed Sekhmet a radiant smile winking at her as he spun Orana across the carpeted floor.

Sekhmet’s hand settled on her abdomen as she watched them. She thought to herself, _“That’s your father, he’s a complicated man but loving him is so worth it. And, if you’re really lucky you’ll be half as handsome as he is someday.”_

Her attention was pulled away from the whirling figures in front of her when Bodahn appeared in the doorway and hesitantly cleared his throat. Everyone stopped and turned to look at him. Uncharacteristically, Bodahn fidgeted for a moment before speaking. “Uh, there is a ruckus going on in the square. The First Enchanter is out there stirring up the populace to demand a new Viscount.”

“Rightfully so,” Anders interjected.

“A messenger came to tell us that Knight Commander Meredith is on the way to the square now with a bevy of Templars in tow and she looks ‘prepared for murder’. His words, not mine.”

Sekhmet stood and headed towards her room, “Anders, come help me.”

He scowled at her even as he followed her. “What are you doing, Sekhmet?”

She didn’t stop, “I’m going to put my armor on. I’m not going to let her hurt him, especially not in front of my home.”

“Sekhmet, it’s dangerous.” She could tell by his voice he was already resigned to it.

She didn’t want to upset him, or burst the precious bubble they had been living in but she needed to do this. She stopped at the top of the stairs, “Anders, Kirkwall is our home and for too long the Champion has remained silent about Meredith grabbing control of the city and refusing to relinquish it. And if I’m not willing to stand up to her when she’s overstepping her authority right outside of my door what right do I have to that title?”

He sighed, “Fine, but promise me you’ll try diplomacy before you start taking heads?”

She nodded, “I promise.” And she meant it. She was too tired to fight if she could help it.

“Alright,” he kissed the top of her head, “let’s go put our armor on.”

********

The Kirkwall sun was hot and high over the square when she and Anders stepped out of the estate. Bodahn slipped out behind them headed to the Hanged Man to let Varric know they might need him. She couldn’t help hoping that he got there quickly.

She scanned the crowd, almost all nobles, and far more people than she expected. It seemed Orsino’s message was timely. She and Anders had been lost in their own troubles this past year, and while they’d had a periphery understanding of what had been going on in the city they were only recently understanding the extent of the problems.

Anders had been heartbroken when he realized the reason he hadn’t heard from the Underground recently was because they had all been captured or driven from the city in fear. Only Marcus and a few others remained. Meredith had a strangle hold on the Gallows, and as she staunchly refused to give up control of the city that strangle hold was slowly growing to encompass the city itself as well.

Meredith stormed across the square, passing less than a hand’s breath away from Sekhmet though she didn’t acknowledge the Champion in anyway. The Knight Commanders seemed to have eyes only for the First Enchanter. The messenger had been right; Meredith looked ready to hang Orsino in the square, right in front of the nobles.

Her voice, angry and bitter, rang out across the square as she moved towards the dais that Orsino was standing on. “Return to your homes, this farce is over.”

Orsino’s gaze lit upon Sekhmet immediately. A small smile slowly spread across his lips, “Wait, perhaps there are some who would disagree with you Knight Commander.” Orsino gestured to Sekhmet.

Meredith turned to see who Orsino was talking about. Her eyes narrowed the slightest bit at seeing Sekhmet, or maybe it was at seeing Anders at her side. Sekhmet was absolutely sure that Meredith knew exactly who, and what Anders was. She spoke calmly however, “The Champion has proven herself Kirkwall’s greatest defender. I doubt that she favors sedition.”

“It’s only sedition if he’s inciting rebellion against the Viscount.” Sekhmet flashed a smile to Meredith, “To me it just sounds like you two have quite the little argument going.”

Meredith’s gaze narrowed even more, “This is not an argument, its treason.”

Anders spoke up beside her, “Not treason, truth. Templars are not meant to rule Kirkwall.” 

His stance was rigid beside her. She could almost feel the anger thrumming through him. She hoped he remained calm enough that he didn’t start sparking in front of all these people. Things could go very badly for the both of them if he couldn’t contain himself, or even worse, Justice.

Orsino’s smirk wasn’t helping anyone, but Sekhmet imagined it must have been nice for him to finally have someone else on his side. “I think the champions views would be appreciated, or do you fear what she has to say?”

“Not at all.” The Knight Commander looked to her as if daring her to agree with Orsino, “Do you agree with the First Enchanter’s accusations Champion?”

“No, the first enchanter accused you of trying to take control of the city. The truth is that you have already taken control of the city.” It felt good calling Meredith on her greed for power. She just wished she’d done it sooner.

“The city” Meredith said it with disdain, as if she despised the city. “I am trying to keep order until there is a leader capable of succeeding where Dumar failed”

Anders snorted, “And what kind of judge of rulers are you? It was you that gave the Viscount’s seat to Dumar in the first place.” Murmurs of agreement from the nobility seemed to bolster Anders and he kept talking. “By your own admission the man wasn’t up to the job. Maybe if you were more interested in a ruler that was good for the people, instead of one you could intimidate and control, the city wouldn’t have suffered the turmoil of these past four years.”

More support from the crowd had Meredith glaring at all those collected in the square. Anders didn’t slow down, and why should he? He was right.

“The Templars’ job is to run the Circle, not to run the city. Perhaps Dumar’s predecessor was right to take a stand against the Templars of this city. It seems they are more power hungry than ever. You should go back to the Gallows where you belong, Knight Commander. Leave the city of Kirkwall to rule itself, as it is meant to.” Anders had walked forward until he was looking down on Meredith who was clenching her fists as a muscle twitched below her eye.

As Anders finished talking the crowd erupted into cheers and clapping. He suddenly seemed to remember himself and looked around at the crowd, surprised at their reaction. A prickle of something tickled at Sekhmet’s senses if felt like…the Knight Commander really wouldn’t risk that here, would she?

Anders’ head suddenly jerked back to Meredith. He sneered at her, speaking quietly through his teeth. “Go ahead, Knight Commander, smite me. How do you think the populace will react to you smiting the Champion’s lover?”

Meredith bared her own teeth and hissed at him, “Her apostate lover.”

Anders nodded faintly, “Yes, the man you clearly knew was an apostate, yet let walk freely about the city for years at the Champion’s side? Think they’ll still trust you then?”

They both stood, glaring at each other for long moments. The crowd started to shift uncomfortably, not sure what the stare down between the two was about. Sekhmet’s fingers itched to grab her daggers but she restrained herself. 

She knew she was faster than Meredith. If it seemed like Meredith was going to hurt Anders Sekhmet would end her before the Knight Commander could even draw her weapon. Even in her constantly fatigued state she could manage that.

And, if Meredith was stupid enough to smite Anders in front of all these people so much the better. Sekhmet knew well that Anders could withstand a smite. Maybe that would quell the worst of the rumors that worried Anders.

To be honest, she wanted to see Meredith’s face when her smite left Anders standing and still incredibly dangerous. It was hard to suppress the urge to smile at the realization that her sweet Anders was a Templar’s worst nightmare: a mage who didn’t need his magic to protect himself. He made sure he was almost as dangerous without his magic as he was with it.

Orsino looked nervously between Anders and Meredith before lifting his voice a little so the crowd could hear him. ”Do the Templars plan on ruling Kirkwall forever?”

Meredith took a step back away from Anders, trying to dismiss him. She also raised her voice. “We will not stand idle while the city burns around us.”

Anders snorted, “In case you didn’t notice Knight Commander, the fires have been out for years.” The crowd, very much Anders’ crowd now laughed behind him. 

Sekhmet watched the whole spectacle amused but alert. She’d never seen the Knight Commander such a seething mass of anger before. They would probably pay for it later, but if the city pulled together to stand up against Meredith’s tyranny it was worth it. Besides, she and Anders always seemed to find a way to survive any trouble that came their way.

Orsino took up Anders’ message easily, “The Templar order exists to guard the Chantry and Circle. I suggest you let the nobility rule the city.”

Meredith, backed into a corner by the double assault snapped at Orsino, “I do not need you or anyone to tell me what my duty is, mage.”

Anders quirked a brow openly smirking now, “Clearly you do. For at least the last three years you’ve been overstepping your role by miles.” More grumbles followed from the crowd.

Sekhmet was impressed with how completely Anders had won over their noble audience. Meredith looked to Sekhmet, as if she expected her to side with her. Sekhmet was more than happy to disappoint her. She gave a little one shouldered shrug, “The First Enchanter is right, you should not be ruling Kirkwall.”

A snarl issued from the Knight Commander as she realized she had absolutely no support. “And yet I shall continue until such a time as the city is safe.” 

“Safe? From what, and who determines that?” Anders asked condescendingly. “Maybe it’s you it needs to be protected from.”

Orsino turned to Sekhmet, raising his voice over the murmurs of approval from the crowd. “Do you see? She is incapable of reason.”

The Knight Commander was still watching Sekhmet. She didn’t respond to Anders or rise to the bait of Orsino’s statement. Was she still trying to look for support from Sekhmet of all people? She’d have better luck convincing a mage.

Sekhmet heard footsteps walking up behind her. She was glad she recognized the cadence and didn’t need to turn around. She didn’t want to take her eyes off Meredith for even a moment when the woman so obviously close to snapping. “Sorry to break it to you Meredith, but I think you’re wrong.”

Orsino looked intensely pleased, “Face the truth Knight Commander, you are done.”

“That is for me to decide, no one else.” Hysteria was beginning to tinge her voice. 

Varric stopped beside Sekhmet, “Hey Hawke, causing trouble again?” He asked softly.

“Nope, just watching Anders work his magic this time.” She responded fighting a smile as Anders started speaking again.

“It is **not** your place to choose who rules. It never was. This isn’t your city.” He shifted moving a half step closer to Meredith again, “You have a _job_ in the city, nothing more. You’re a servant trying to over reach herself.” He didn’t even try to hide the disdain in his voice.

Sekhmet wasn’t completely sure, but she thought she might have heard Meredith actually growl at Anders. And for all his vitriolic words Anders seemed calm as they stood staring at each other in front of all the nobles of Kirkwall. The crowd started to stir and Sekhmet turned to see what the newest addition to their little debate was going to be.

Grand Cleric Elthina, followed closely by Sebastian glided through the crowd. Her voice was calm even though her eyes darting quickly around at everyone standing before the dais gave away her unease. “My, my such a terrible commotion.”

Sounding petulant The Knight Commander spoke first, “This mage incites rebellion, your grace. I am dealing with the matter.”

Anders snorted, obviously not at all deterred by a new player on the stage. “Not rebellion. You can’t rebel against someone who has no right to rule in the first place. Did the First Enchanter say anything about Templars and their real jobs, or even against the Chantry itself?”

A few noes rang out from the crowd, but as a whole they were much more subdued than before the Grand Cleric had showed up. Sebastian looked questioningly at Sekhmet, silently gesturing to Anders. What did he want her to do, muzzle him?

“Chantry boy realizes you agree with Anders completely right?” Varric snickered beside her.

“He should,” he really should know her at least that much by now.

The Grand Cleric moved slowly forward until she could easily see both Meredith and Orsino. “Ah, Orsino, so frustrated. Do you think this is truly wise?”

“It’s what’s right,” Anders interjected.

There was a few moments of silence but Elthina seemed to be ignoring Anders. Something she had perfected over years of Anders showing up at the Chantry at Sekhmet’s side. 

At length Orsino responded to her “I,” he sighed heavily, obviously as frustrated as the Grand Cleric had said, “no Your Grace.”

“Of course not,” And as simple as that the Grand Cleric wrote the First Enchanter’s concerns off. She turned to one of the Templars standing beside Meredith. “Young man would you show the first enchanter back to the Circle. Gently, if you please.”

Meredith turned scarlet and her voice rang out sharply across the square. “Your Grace, he should be clapped in irons, made an example of.” 

“For speaking the truth? No reason to throw a temper tantrum just because the truth makes _you_ look bad.” Anders’ words hadn’t lost their venom, but he’d lost the crowd. With the appearance of the Grand Cleric they all stood there silently, watching.

Elthina continued to ignore Anders, scolding Meredith like a child. “That is enough, Meredith! This demeans us all, surely you can see that. Go back to the Gallows and calm down, like a good girl.”

Meredith’s glare was back in full force, though this time it was directed at the Grand Cleric. She held the death stare for long awkward moments before she eventually bowed stiffly and headed back to the Gallows following the Templars who were escorting Orsino. Sekhmet wondered what kind of price Meredith would make him pay regardless of what the Grand Cleric said. 

With Orsino and Meredith both gone from the square the Grand Cleric turned her attention to Sekhmet. “You have my thanks for stepping in Champion. If you had not…”

Sekhmet shrugged, she hadn’t done much of anything. Well, she’d brought Anders with her, but she somehow doubted he’d helped the situation at all. “Short of putting those two in cells I doubt anything will keep them from each other.”

Elthina sighed heavily; “Sadly true.” She looked Sekhmet over slowly then spared Anders the barest of glances. 

She turned away from them, clearly dismissing them as she began to speak to the people in the square. Even with the departure of Orsino and Meredith none of them had dispersed. She spread her hands wide. “Gentle people of Kirkwall, return to your homes, I implore you. This will not be solved today.”

Elthina watched for a couple minutes as people started talking amongst themselves and slowly leaving the square. Satisfied they were doing as she asked she turned again to speak with Sekhmet. “And now I must attend to the Gallows, they will see reason if the Maker wills it. Thank you again, Champion.”

Anders pushed past Sekhmet to stand directly in front of Elthina so she couldn’t help but see him. “This can be resolved today, and you know it can. Why aren’t you demanding that Meredith relinquish control of the city and let a new Viscount be selected?”

The Grand Cleric spoke slowly as if to a child, “It is not that simple.”

“It is that simple,” Anders insisted, “She answers to you. You could resolve this whole mess quite quickly if you wanted to.”

Instead of answering him she turned and walked away. Sebastian furrowed his brow in confusion but followed her as she left the square. 

Anders snorted, “Typical.”

“Blondie, are you trying to get the Templars to drag you out of bed in the middle of the night?” 

“Someone has to say something.” Anders retorted.

“That was pure antagonism.” Varric smiled a little, “You did a great job of staying calm. Thank you for that.”

Anders was still watching the Grand Cleric walking away. “She has them all fooled.”

“Has who fooled?” Sekhmet wasn’t sure what Anders was referring to. She thought the city was pretty aware of what a nightmare Meredith was.

“The Grand Cleric.” He tore his gaze away and looked to Sekhmet. “She’s worse than Meredith.”

“That’s stretching it a bit.” Varric was quick disagree.

“Take a look at the facts Varric: she let Meredith get involved in politics years ago even though it’s against Chantry policy. Elthina has the authority to make Meredith relinquish her control of the city but doesn’t even try. She could command Meredith to let the nobility select a new Viscount but she hasn’t done that, even knowing how angry the populace is over Meredith ruling the city. And she clearly knows there are problems at the Circle but hasn’t tried to rein in Meredith or the Templars there either.”

“The mages in the Circles are always upset.” Varric argued.

Anders’ eyes narrowed, “Did you hear her Varric? When she asked the Templars to take Orsino back to the Gallows she specified ‘gently’. So, she’s aware enough to know that the Templars tend to abuse the mages, even the First Enchanter.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of a reach?” 

Anders shook his head, “No, I think that the Grand Cleric relishes the control the Templars and therefore the Chantry has over Kirkwall. I think she has no intentions of trying to work out things between Meredith and Orsino. She just wants their feud to be a little less public. That way she can make up whatever story she wants to explain what will eventually be Orsino’s untimely death.”

“Anders…”

Anders snorted, “Believe whatever blind story you want to, Varric. Orsino has been the only person willing to speak up against Meredith’s power grab for the last three years. What better way to keep the population in check than by showing exactly what happens to you if you dare speak up?”

“Alright Anders, relax. I just find it hard to believe there is some sinister plot being headed up by the Chantry.” Varric rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“So, don’t think of it as a sinister plot. Think of it as a single person, in this case The Grand Cleric, taking advantage of Meredith’s madness and ambition. The fact that Elthina is the voice of the Chantry in the Free Marches just gives her an air or respectability and helps shield her from suspicion of a ‘plot’ as you called it.” Anders walked up behind Sekhmet as he spoke and discreetly placed his hand on her back, supporting her a bit.

Sekhmet all but sighed in relief. Maybe it was the tension of the situation or maybe her earlier exertion dancing, but she felt dead on her feet. She hoped she hadn’t been weaving; she didn’t want questions from Varric. 

They still hadn’t told anyone that she was pregnant. While neither of them said as much they were both afraid to tell anyone of their impending parenthood in case the worst should come to pass again. It would just make it that much harder.

Varric inhaled deeply, “Right, if we’re done here I was in the middle of a game I’d like to get back to.”

Sekhmet nodded, “Thank you, Varric.” 

“You two should come by soon. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.” With that Varric turned and headed back to Lowtown and the Hanged Man.

Anders started escorting her back towards the estate. “He thinks I’m mad.” He grumbled as he pulled open the door and led her inside.

“Probably, but you knew that years ago.” She sat down and let Anders take her boots off for her.

“Maybe I am mad; it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

She brushed a few hairs off his forehead, “I know.” She yawned overwhelmed with the need to sleep.

Anders stood, his own feet still dressed and scooped her up, “Let’s get you tucked into bed, darling.”

Her eyes drifted shut as she held onto him, “’kay”. 

********

Anders’ mind was racing as he headed back downstairs. Bodahn was waiting at the bottom of the steps. This couldn’t be good. He supposed their charmed life had to end at some point.

“Is Messere Hawke with child again?” Bodahn asked frankly.

Well, as far as conversation starters it wasn’t all that bad. “She is.” He had assumed at Bodahn had figured that out weeks ago. 

“How far along is she?” He followed Anders as he headed to the foyer to remove his boots.

“A few months,” he responded.

“I suppose that means we can expect her condition to deteriorate from here?” Bodahn watched Anders with a hooded gaze. It was uncharacteristic of the dwarf to say the least.

“I’m actually hoping her body will recover a bit as the pregnancy progresses.” Anders replied as he pushed his feet into his slippers.

“But what are the chances of that actually happening?” He pushed.

Anders confessed, “I don’t know. To be honest this pregnancy is unlike any I’ve ever known.” 

“Is it because you’re a Warden?” 

Anders was surprised that Bodahn seemed to be aware of the difficulty Wardens had with having children. Had Sareyna or Alistair told him for whatever reason? “I don’t know.”

“Which I suppose also means you don’t know if it’s related to your…uh…other condition.” At least Bodahn didn’t look nervous as he asked the question.

Anders took a deep breath, “That’s correct.” Could Anders’ possession be the reason for the strangeness of the pregnancy? There was an unpleasant thought. It’s not as if there was a lot of information about abominations having children. 

Anders had been on his own during the whole of his possession. No book he had ever found said anything about possession other than to immediately kill the host. Now he wanted to kick himself for not taking pregnancy complication into consideration.

The thought that Justice could alter his seed, could affect a pregnancy and hence a child in anyway was extremely unsettling. Could their child possibly be possessed straight from the womb? And even if the baby wasn’t exactly possessed, what would, or could it be? 

Could Justice possibly control the child as he did Anders? The room suddenly felt as if it were spinning. Was the child and hence Sekhmet be struggling because it was fighting a piece of Justice for control?

Maker’s ass, he was going to be ill.

Bodahn didn’t seem to notice Anders’ sudden turmoil. Looking suddenly very old and very tired he sighed, “Very well,” and walked out of the room.

Anders was left to watch after him confused about the little exchange and feeling extremely disturbed about the new possibilities it had raised. What had prompted Bodahn’s line of questioning? And why did Anders’ answers seem to discomfit the man so?

Feeling unsettled, he stood up and went looking for his cats. He needed some comfort while he thought of a way to see if Justice had somehow, whether intentionally or unintentionally, affected the child Sekhmet now carried under increasing strain. Yes, Lord and Lady were exactly what he needed to clear his head.


	79. Tendrils

Anders jerked awake with an ache in his chest. He sat, breathing heavily for a moment trying to find the source of the discomfort. He almost laughed in delight when he realized where it had originated.

He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Sekhmet and quickly tugged on some trousers and a dressing gown. He slipped into his slippers before he exited the door and followed the spirit’s urging. She was pushing him hard, he hurried his steps and realized Solace was guiding him to Orana’s room. 

He cracked open the door and called a wisp so he could see her. She was pale and shaking, unconscious but clearly wracked by fever. Fear gripped him for Sekhmet’s sake. He closed the door, ignoring Solace’s push to enter and instead knocked on the next door down.

“Bodahn?” He called out gently.

“Messere?” Came Bodahn’s reply moments later. The dwarf didn’t even sound sleepy.

“Are you or Sandal feeling ill?”

“No, Orana felt a little under the weather earlier.”

That was good, just Orana so far. Sekhmet would be safe. “I need you to take Sandal and go upstairs. Make sure Sekhmet stays up there. Do not, under any circumstances, come back down stairs until I tell you it is alright to do so.” He stepped away from door then stepped back, “And Bodahn?”

“Yes, messere?”

“She’s wearing her usual night attire.”

“Understood.”

Anders stood back and waited until Bodahn left the room and headed towards the main part of the house. Anders was about to enter the room when Solace snapped at him to shield his face. Confused, Anders nonetheless did as she bid.

He opened the door again and slipped inside shutting it tight behind him. Orana tossed uneasily in her sleep, sweat dampening her hair to stick to her head, and soaking her clothes leaving them plastered to her skin as well. Poor thing looked awful.

He let his magic flow over her, seeking the cause of her illness, reveling in the feeling of Solace’s anxiety. He hadn’t felt her like this in years. It wasn’t the same feeling of urgency he used to feel when healing his patients, but it was far better than the numbness he’d become accustomed to since Justice.

He was able to heal Orana quickly. It was a fairly common ailment, but could sometimes prove fatal, especially if the lungs had already become inflamed. Once she was well he woke her up to make sure she felt well.

“Orana?” Anders called softly.

She woke slowly, blinking up at him. She smiled momentarily at seeing him, but the smile quickly fell and her eyes widened. She blanched, pulling her covers up higher and stammered, “Please no, master Anders. Mistress Hawke has been very good to me.”

He frowned for a moment, confused, but as she drew up her knees and backed away from him further he realized why she thought he was there. A shudder ran through him at the thought. Orana was barely more than a girl, had someone in Hadriana’s household abused the poor girl?

He shook his head, “No, Orana. I would never ask that of you.” She relaxed visibly and Anders continued. “You were ill, I healed you but wanted to be sure you were feeling better.”

She looked down at herself, “Is that why I’m all wet?”

“You were sweating.” He kept his distance from the bed, uncomfortable now that he knew Orana’s fears.

Her nose wrinkled up, “I smell funny.”

Anders chuckled, “Just from being ill, I promise.”

“I feel fine, Master Anders.” She smiled at him, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m going to have Bodahn draw you a bath and I want you to get washed up right away. And while you’re waiting for your bath we’re going to get you something to eat.” He headed for the door.

“But, it’s the middle of the night.”

He paused by the door and smiled at her, “Healer’s orders, milady.”

She giggled as Anders closed the door behind him. He walked up the stairs and found Bodahn sitting in front of the door to the room he shared with Sekhmet with a short sword across his lap. Sandal, Tyr, Lord, and Lady were all gathered around him. 

Anders snickered at the sight. “You’re a good man, Bodahn. The danger has passed, Orana was ill but I healed her. I’m going to get her some food, but we’re going to need to get her bathed, put clean linens on her bed, and change her nightclothes before we let her go back to sleep. Give me a hand?”

“Of course, messere.” He stood up quickly and Sandal followed, but Tyr and the cats remained lying where they were. 

Anders smiled, he never would have believed it if he didn’t live in this house. Not just cats and dogs getting along so well, but preferring to be together when they could. Anders lingered another moment, memorizing the image before heading back down the stairs.

By the time he returned to his room the sun was starting to creep up over the horizon. Tyr moved to let him into the room, and he opened the door, slipping inside quickly. He stripped down out of his clothes and slid back into the bed just in time for Sekhmet to roll over and open her eyes.

“Morning,” she murmured.

He kissed her forehead, “Morning, beautiful.”

She lifted her head scowling, “You look tired, dreams again?”

He was tired, no doubt about it, but he was also exultant. “No, something wonderful.” He scowled, “Not wonderful for Orana, or maybe it is depending on how you look at it.”

“Anders, darling, you’re babbling and still not making sense.”

The scowl dissolved completely, “Solace woke me up last night. I could feel immediately that someone needed my help. She led me to Orana’s room. Poor girl had a terrible fever. Solace woke me up, and I felt her pushing at me to heal her. It was fantastic.”

“Oh, Anders!” She hugged him tight, then pulled back to ask, “How is Orana?”

“Well: healed, fed, bathed and resting comfortably.” Anders skimmed his hand over Sekhmet’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure there was a way to convey to her exactly how happy he was in this moment, or why he was so deliriously overjoyed.

Sekhmet smiled, “Then I’m glad you felt her. So, you can heal like you did before Justice?”

He shook his head, “No, but I felt something, enough that it woke me up. She hasn’t dared touch me in any way I could really feel since Justice.”

“I wonder why she did it this time?” Sekhmet’s brow furrowed adorably in thought.

“I’ve had some inkling things were changing with her again, she’s been a little less distant. As for why now, all I can think of is that she has a soft spot for Orana.” He couldn’t stop smiling.

Sekhmet smirked, “Or maybe she knows you do.”

“I…” he paused not sure why he’d been about to deny it. “I do, there is an innocence to her even after all she’s seen, a sweetness that nothing seems able to dim. I want to keep her that way if we can. We have to be very careful not to rob her of it.” He shrugged, “She’s special.”

She nodded, “She is, we’re lucky to have her. She still tries to refuse her pay, even after all this time.”

Anders yawned, quickly covering his mouth. “So, sorry love. I think the night is catching up to me.”

Sekhmet snuggled up against him. “Good, I’m always happy for a few more hours of sleep lately.”

He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her hair, and settled in to get some sleep.

********

Sekhmet was dozing in the library, jerking awake when Bodahn cleared his throat. Eyes unfocused from slumber she squinted a little looking at Bodahn. “Sorry, fell asleep again.”

“I apologize for interrupting your slumber, but messere Tethras has sent a message and asked that you read it immediately.” Bodahn strode closer and held it out to her.

She took the parchment from his fingers. “Any idea where Ander is?” she asked as she opened the message and skimmed it over.

“He and Sandal are working on his staff again.” Bodahn said it with a long suffering voice and Sekhmet couldn’t blame him. 

Anders and Sandal had been working on Anders new staff for months now. She couldn’t imagine what Anders was having done. And, he wouldn’t even let her see the new staff until it was finished.

She had no idea why he felt he needed a new staff. She’d given him her father’s staff and it was a damned good one. Maybe he still felt odd using it, even after all this time.

She scanned the note over again, “Hmm, you better get him. Varric wants to see us, says it’s important we get to the Hanged Man as soon as possible.”

Bodahn didn’t bother trying to conceal his concern. “Are you sure you should be going in your condition, messere?” 

“I’ll be alright. Varric knows I’m with child, but just to be on the safe side I’ll wear the armor we commissioned.” She sat up and stretched.

“Even so, you’re not at your best. Does messere Tethras know about the complications you’ve been struggling with?” It was asked with the same concern, but he needn’t have bothered. Bodahn knew damned well Varric and the others most certainly did not know about the so called “complications” she was experiencing. She’d done her best to make sure of that.

“I’ll be fine Bodahn. Anders will make sure I’m careful.” She stood carefully; if she stood too fast she was prone to swooning.

Bodahn snorted, but didn’t argue further. He turned and left the room presumably to fetch Anders. Sekhmet carefully made her way towards the stairs. She’d barely reached it when Anders came jogging into the room.

“Hey, are you sure you want to go to the Hanged Man?” He fell into step behind her trying to be unobtrusive as he made sure she didn’t fall backwards.

She grit her teeth and breathed slowly through her nose. Yes, it was all highly annoying but they were all trying to be helpful. “Varric wouldn’t send for us unless it was important.”

“I’ll take Sebastian and look into it for you,” he offered quickly.

She smiled a little, how quickly he was ready to ally himself with Sebastian who would only be too eager to make sure she stayed home. Her brother in all but blood had become as oppressive as any big brother could be in his desire to keep her safe at home. And, it had made strange bedfellows out of the Chantry Prince and her sweet mage.

“If it’ll ease your mind Anders, have Bodahn fetch him and the three of us will go together.” She could make a small concession for him. Anders spent much of his time anxious, confused by her odd symptoms and vexed beyond measure that he could not assuage them.

He followed her until she reached the top of the steps before running back down them two at a time. She suppressed the urge to laugh at his hasty bid for reinforcements. She knew Anders wanted Sebastian as much for his assistance in talking her out of finding trouble as he did for the man’s archery skills.

In their room she had barely tugged her dress off over her head before Anders was back. “Feel better?”

He shrugged a little, “I’d feel better if you’d stay here, but I know there’s no point in arguing with you. I never win.”

It took them longer that it usually would to get their armor on. Sekhmet wasn’t used to the armor that fit over her growing belly and Anders had to help her with it. It wasn’t as comfortable or forgiving as her usual armor, but it was a damn sight better than no armor at all.

By the time they were in their armor and downstairs Sebastian was already waiting for them. He gave Sekhmet a quick hug, “I swear your belly grows bigger every day.” He flashed her a quick smile and helped her with her boots while Anders dressed his own feet. 

They headed to the Hanged Man, all of them pretending not to notice the tension between them. She knew they weren’t happy with this little trip, but she needed it. She rarely got out of the estate anymore.

She was grateful the dizziness wasn’t too bad so far today. There were some days that the mere act of standing or walking down steps was too much and she needed to stop until the room stopped spinning and the urge to vomit passed.

Sebastian kept a steady string of chatter going on the trip, keeping her distracted. For nearly the thousandth time she wondered how he always knew when she needed silence and when she needed the balm of his voice. It didn’t matter what he said, just the sound of his voice soothed her sometimes, like it did now.

They drew stares and more than a few furtive smiles. The gossips never really let this particular morsel rest. And, sighting the three of them together in public was always sure to send tongues wagging anew.

As they neared the door to the Hanged Man she felt each of the men brace her gently behind her shoulders. She hadn’t even realized she’d been weaving on her feet until they’d caught her. She couldn’t help a giggle; the two men even caught her in tandem now.

“Glad we’re amusing you.” Anders spoke softly beside her.

Sebastian’s voice came from the other side of her, just as soft, “Shall we go see what’s so important?”

She pushed open the door and walked into the tavern and just barely managed not to retch at the smell of body odor and stale ale. 

Anders’ hand pressed into the small of her back, “Slow breaths through your mouth, love.”

She nodded and moved forward heading towards Varric’s suite. A sight out of the corner of her eye stopped her in her tracks. 

“Sekhmet?” Anders’ voice was full of concern.

“No fucking way, am I really seeing this?” 

Anders’s eyes scanned the room and a moment later he rolled them. “Don’t even bother. We don’t need her kind of trouble, especially now.”

Sekhmet couldn’t bring herself to just pretend that Isabela, missing from Kirkwall for nearly three years wasn’t standing at the bar as if she’d never left. Did Fenris know she was here? Would he have told Sekhmet if he had? The two of them hadn’t been all that close as of late.

“Normally, I would hope you two could come to some sort of an understanding and move forward. However, in this instance I have to agree with Anders. You need to be careful of what you’re letting yourself get dragged into. And, Isabela finds more than her fair share of danger. Best to steer clear for now.” Poor Sebastian, how often had he felt torn between his Chantry teachings and his desire to protect her these last months?

And, even knowing they were both right she couldn’t seem to make her feet resume their forward movement. The pirate queen held her attention captive for the moment. Even with most of the tavern staring at Sekhmet and her two companions Izzy seemed not to have noticed her. Or, was at least trying very hard to make it seem as though she hadn’t.

Anders snorted, “Why do I even try? Come on, Sebastian. Let’s go see what Varric wanted while Sekhmet decides what to do about Isabela.” He gently took Sebastian’s elbow and led him towards Varric’s suite.

Sekhmet moved closer to the bar, closer to Isabela, but stopped again. Her heart was beating an odd rhythm and she had no idea whether she was glad to see Isabela safe, or angry to see her back in Kirkwall. So, she stood in silence, watching the pirate queen for another minute.

Slowly, anger started to win out. Not anger over Isabela taking off with the tome on them, not even anger over what happened to the city because of it. The fury started bubbling when Sekhmet thought about Fenris, about what Isabela’s betrayal and subsequent disappearance had done to him.

Between Isabela and Justice, Fenris had pulled so far back into himself even Sekhmet had a hard time reaching him. He was bitter and angry with the world. He’d become withdrawn, stopped his lessons and rarely even returned Sekhmet’s frequent messages.

It seemed the only time she saw Fenris now was when he was delivering a message from Thrask. And those were fewer and farther between with each passing week. It was easier to shift some of the blame for Fenris’ downward spiral onto Isabela’s shoulders than to carry it all by herself.

So, Sekhmet settled on pissed off. Isabela couldn’t just saunter back into Kirkwall as if nothing had happened. She couldn’t just stand at this bar; throwing back the swill they served as if she had always been here. As if she hadn’t abandoned them all for three years. 

She crossed the tavern, barely noticing the people scrambling back from her. They were scattering like rats looking for shadows. She felt a tug at the connection between her and Anders but didn’t look to see what caused it. Isabela was the only thing that mattered right now.

The tall, dark woman held her ground, drinking from her mug as if she hadn’t a care in the world, but Sekhmet could see the pulse beating quick in her neck. “Not even back a night and you’ve already come calling, dear? Aren’t you precious?”

Sekhmet grabbed her by her hair and pulled her away from the bar only to shove her back against the wall. Isabela’s back hit it hard enough that a few bottles behind the bar tumbled to the floor and broke, “What the fuck are you doing in Kirkwall?” 

Isabela was better than most at hiding her emotions, but the problem was Sekhmet knew her better than most and knew it was all bravado. “I missed the whiskey.”

Sekhmet pulled a knife; she wasn’t interested in Isabela’s games. “Want to try again?”

Isabela’s eyes scanned the room quickly. Whatever she saw it must not have been what she’d been hoping for. Her carefully crafted sneer faltered and her response this time was much more sober, much softer. “I am a captain with no ship and no crew. Even lacking these things I traveled widely. But, I confess, my thoughts returned again and again to Kirkwall.”

Sekhmet lowered her weapon slightly, “If you returned because you were lonely you’ll find little solace here.”

“And, I expect none but that afforded by this bar and these spirits.” Her head lowered fractionally, “I know that you and I have nothing in common anymore. You’re the bloody Champion of Kirkwall and I’m just a lying, thieving snake.” 

Sekhmet snorted, her anger dissipated in the face of Isabela behaving in so subdued a matter. “Isabela, you’d be surprised by what you might find inside yourself if you weren’t so afraid to look.”

“I am what I am Hawke, I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Would it incentivize you if I told you I thought there was a heart of gold in there, somewhere?”

Isabela chuckled.

Sekhmet held up the knife a little with a grin, “We could just dig it out and sell it.” 

Isabela’s smile widened, “I know not all’s forgiven. I don’t expect that. But, if you need me, I’ll be here.”

“I promise nothing. And Izzy?” 

“Yes?”

“Hurt any of mine ever again and you’ll swear you never knew pain until you met me. And only when you’re far past begging for death will you get to meet it, slowly.” Sekhmet turned around and walked away before she changed her mind and slit Izzy’s throat in front of everyone. 

The problem was that Sekhmet understood the pirate queen more than she wanted to admit. As much as she painted on a face of bravado Sekhmet could see the shame and feelings of inferiority that Izzy was struggling with. And, she knew from firsthand experience how soul crushing a combination that was. Isabela was beating herself up far more than anyone else could. So, Sekhmet would leave her to her own devices.

She entered Varric’s suite to find Anders pacing the room and Sebastian standing tense against a wall. Varric, completely unflappable after all this time sat sedately at the table scribbling away on some parchment. He looked up when she entered the room, “Ah, good. Now maybe these two can go back to pretending to be civil to each other.”

She looked to Sebastian who quickly darted his eyes away. Anders wouldn’t look at her at all. She sighed as she settled down in a chair, fatigue making her limbs as leaden as her heart currently felt. “So, you’ve been pretending all this time?”

“No, it was a small argument, nothing to worry about.” Sebastian rushed to reassure her.

“Yes, your choir boy is under the impression I let you come here tonight.” Anders pushed the loose wisps of hair off his forehead. “As if I have any control over where you go.” He looked to Sebastian, “You know her, you know the only choice I have is whether to go with her or not. I asked for you, didn’t I? Do you think that’s easy for me? To ask another man to help me ensure she’s safe?”

“Would you have him hold me against my will, Sebastian?” She was curious what he expected Anders to do.

Sebastian grit his teeth and she knew he wanted to say more but instead he steered the conversation away. “Now that she’s here are you ready to tell us what was so urgent that you needed to see her right away?”

“Isabela, firstly. I see that has been dealt with. I also wanted you to know I’ve been hearing some rumors about Gamlen. Someone’s looking for him, and this time I don’t think it’s just dodgy bill collectors. I know you two have never been close, but I thought you might like to know, he’s still family.”

Anders snorted, “For all he acts like it. He hasn’t been by to see her once since Leandra passed. Not even so much as a letter.”

“I haven’t actually been to see him, either, Anders.”

“One more thing, rumor is there’s a woman asking around about you, something to do with the Wardens. I haven’t been able to get any clarification on what she wants just that she’s asking for you.”

“Is she a Warden?” Anders stood very still, and through their connection she could feel his unease.

“No, my information says she’s a civilian.”

Even so, Anders’ tension didn’t lessen. 

“Find out what you can for me.” She looked up at Sebastian and Anders, “Sit down and have a pint, boys. I have some business I want to discuss with Varric.” 

She felt Anders tense, the bond between then buzzing with its discordant reverberations. He touched her back softly, “Please, love, let’s head back to the estate. Surely, Varric would be willing to come see you there if it’s important enough.”

She tossed a few coins to Sebastian who caught them easily. “Brother, be so kind as to get a round of ale?” 

He scowled, “Sister, please, Anders is right. You needn’t be here.”

She clenched her jaw and stood up, “Yet, here I am and here I will stay until I’m ready to leave.”

Sebastian sighed heavily and pushed away from the wall leaving the suite quickly. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she slid a little less than gracefully down into her seat. Anders caught her, the scent of raspberries briefly filling the air as he settled her gently down into the chair. 

When her vision cleared she glanced at Varric who was sitting very stiffly in his seat. She smirked at him, “Anders, apologize for scaring Varric.”

“Absolutely not,” he grumbled as he sat down beside her.

She hadn’t seen it, but she knew the smell well enough to know Justice had peaked through or had at least come close enough that Anders’ skin would have shimmered. She took Anders’ hand and placed it over her abdomen. He looked at her gratefully as a small wash of magic touched her. 

Maybe Anders was right, maybe she shouldn’t be out here. She didn’t want to leave now, though. She’d been so careful, so cautious not to overexert herself of upset Anders lately. Surely, a night sitting and talking wasn’t too much to ask. She was exhausted, but that was nothing new. So, letting Anders check the baby was as much for her as it was for him. 

Content the baby was well, Anders kissed her fingers briefly. “Not too long, please. You’re tired already.”

She nodded what else could she do? Her body held her hostage. Even now it felt leaden and tired. She’d have to leave whether she wanted to or not before too long.

Sebastian returned with the ale setting it on the table before he sat heavily in the chair, clearly sulking. “So, we’re here,” he pulled a knife from his belt and proceeded to start cleaning under his nails with it, “ale in hand. What’s so important it couldn’t wait until you were home and rested?”

Her dear brother was not pleased with what she and Varric ended up discussing. It seemed neither Fenris’ search for his sister, nor Varric’s growing concern over Merrill’s obsession with the mirror satisfied whatever requirement he’d deemed necessary to warrant her continued stay at the Hanged Man. In an uncharacteristic display of ire he clenched his jaw and stabbed his knife into the tabletop.

“Gossip? That seemed important enough to drag her down here, Varric?” He stood up and leaned towards Varric, bracing his hands on the table. “Have you somehow failed to notice that Sekhmet is pregnant?”

Varric scowled, clearly ruffled by Sebastian’s unusual ill temper. “I’m not blind, Choir boy.”

“Then perhaps you can explain to her h…” He paused, his eyes sliding over to Anders briefly before locking back on Varric, “to Anders why it is you dragged her to a dangerous part of town just to gossip.”

Anders was fighting a smile, “He has a point Varric. Nothing you’ve told us tonight required a personal visit from her.”

And, Sekhmet was treated to something she’d never thought to see. Varric became flustered, “Well fellas, I…” he looked from one to the other and shifted in his chair, “I thought she’d want to deal with Isabela herself.”

Sebastian, still glaring at Varric pulled his knife out of the table pointing it at Varric eagerly exposing the flaw in Varric’s argument. “You could have sent word of her arrival in a message and let Sekhmet decide for herself.” 

Varric’s eyes moved briefly to the knife, not worried, merely surprised. “She could have refused.” 

Anders' amusement at Sebastian’s uncharacteristic behavior disappeared in an instant. He snapped at Varric this time, “You knew damn well she wouldn’t, not when you told her it was important and you needed to see her as soon as possible.”

Varric opened his mouth to speak, but Anders cut him off. “She would never abandon a friend in need, and you took advantage of that, even knowing her condition. Don’t even bother trying to deny it.”

“How could you be so irresponsible, Varric?” Sebastian had put his knife away finally, but he still glared at the dwarf.

Sekhmet had had enough. “Stop it. Sebastian, sit down and drink your ale.”

“It’s not right that he put both you and the baby in danger.” Sebastian was still indignant, but he took his seat, at least.

“If you and Anders had your way you’d lock me up in a tower somewhere.” 

“Sekhmet…”

“Stop it, what’s gotten into you tonight? First Anders and now Varric. Since when do you pick fights?” He was behaving so strangely.

He sat back, eyes flicking to Varric quickly, then to Anders before he took a deep breath, “I’m just worried about you and the child.”

It was only when he looked down at the floor that she realized that only he’d really been privy to exactly what had happened last time and what it had done to both her and Anders. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Don’t fret so, dear brother. Everything will be fine.”

He smiled, but it looked forced. He kissed her fingers, “I’m sure it will.”

Anders and Sebastian both took a deep interest in their mugs of ale after that. She and Varric spoke of another few things regarding power plays among the city, Aveline’s expanded role as Guard Captain, and rumors of a new unknown player causing havoc in the city at night.

Varric made promises to put feelers out for more information on several things they discussed. Anders agreed to do the same, though his network of contacts was much reduced with the Mage Underground effectively obliterated. Being the healer in Darktown and never asking too many questions did have a few advantages however. 

Eventually, Sekhmet could barely keep her eyes open. And, when Anders insisted they return to the estate she didn’t argue. 

Sebastian also seemed eager to leave. “Don’t ask her to come back unless it’s truly an emergency and you’ve exhausted you’re other options.” And, while his tone wasn’t exactly friendly, at least he wasn’t threatening Varric.

Varric merely nodded at Sebastian, standing to close the door behind them as they left his suite.

As they headed up the steps to Hightown Sekhmet became dizzy and her legs suddenly felt like rubber. Anders grabbed her and picked her up and she was just too tired to argue with him. Sebastian moved closer pulling several throwing knives from his belt.

“Go ahead, check her over. I’ll keep an eye out while we walk.” 

Anders nodded, his magic flowing over Sekhmet, cold and almost ticklish. “She’s fine.”

“I don’t understand, this isn’t normal for someone who’s pregnant, is it?”

“No, but there’s nothing wrong with her. I have no idea why she’s so tired and dizzy all the time.” Anders confessed.

“You told him?” She couldn’t believe he would do that.

Anders snorted, “Not at all, he’d noticed it himself a few weeks back and had…questions for me.”

Sebastian laughed quietly, “That’s one way to put it.” His eyes were moving quickly, scanning in front of, as well behind them constantly as they moved up the steps.

“’M fine,” Sekmet murmured, turning a little, nuzzling against Anders’ chest.

“Right,” both men instantly responded then both laughed.

And, while she felt a distant flicker of anger she couldn’t hold onto as she dozed off in Anders’ arms.


	80. Crawling Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm back. Sorry I was gone for so long, life sort of bitch slapped me a bunch of times. But, I managed to stand one more time than she slapped me, so I win. I have a feeling the next year is going to be a good, good year. Hope I didn't lose you all in my absence.

“Please Champion, Mistress Hawke I must speak with you. You’re the only one that can help. Please, my brother is missing. He’s a Warden.” A woman’s frantic voice reverberated through the estate.

Sekhmet pushed herself to her feet, sitting heavily back down when the room went grey. “Bodahn, show her in.” She yelled instead.

Anders came running down the steps, “What’s all this commotion?”

“Pardon Master Anders, I tried to turn her away but she called out and Mistress Hawke bid me let her enter.”

Anders scowled, or at least Sekhmet imagined he did as he was still wearing it as he followed Bodahn and the woman into the library. He settled down next to Sekhmet, putting his arm around her. She felt the momentary need to snap at him, but she suppressed it, knowing he was just being protective of her and the child. If he felt her irritation he gave no indication.

The woman Bodahn had shown in was a touch too skinny; her skin had a slightly ashy cast to it. She was a woman who had lived a very tough life, obviously. Her eyes skimmed over Sekhmet and widened with surprise when she took in her condition. “Forgive me, Champion. Had I but known I never would have troubled you.”

Sekhmet chuckled, “Peace, sit. You tracked me down, and sounded most frantic. You do not look to be a woman prone to hysterics. Tell me what troubles you.”

She glanced again at Sekhmet’s belly and bit her lip clearly debating whether to continue or not. Eventually, she pushed on, “It’s my brother. The Wardens mounted an expedition to retrace your route through the Deep Roads to discover whatever it was that you found years ago. It’s a fool’s errand and my poor brother is with them, Nathaniel Howe.”

Anders was suddenly very alert, his eyes looking at the young woman much more sharply. “Nathaniel? You must be Delilah then.” The woman nodded, but her brow furrowed. Anders smiled a bit, “Well, put me in a dress and call me a Templar. How is the old boy doing?”

Delilah scowled at him. “He’s missing serrah, haven’t you been listening?”

Anders shrugged a little, “I’m not worried about Nathaniel. He’s crawled out of worse places alive, and dragged me out with him. Besides, Wardens range into the Deep Roads all the time.”

Delilah nodded a slight bit in acknowledgement, “But, he’s been gone far too long, something terrible has happened. I’d tell the Warden’s but by time I reach Vigil’s Keep…” She trailed off while she struggled not to let he tears shining in her eyes slide down her face. She tipped her head back a bit and blinked several times before nearly whispering, “My poor brother.”

Sekhmet looked to Anders, “I take it you and Nathaniel have some history?”

He tore his gaze from Delilah still struggling to control her emotions, “Certainly do, we were in the Wardens together in Amaranthine: hordes of darkspawn, psychotic broodmothers, the usual Warden business.” He scowled a little, the humor abruptly leaving his face, “I wonder if he ever rediscovered his sense of humor.” 

As Anders became preoccupied with his past Sekhmet turned her attention back to Delilah. Anders wouldn’t answer questions until he was back from whatever reverie had temporarily distracted him. “Why were Wardens interested in our expedition?”

Delilah became exasperated, “Maker help me, I have no idea. My brother never tells me these things.

Sekhmet nodded, Wardens were a secretive bunch. “Do you know any other details of their expedition?”

Delilah sighed softly and shook her head, “I know almost nothing. Nathaniel never speaks about the Wardens. It was only happenstance that I heard your name mentioned.”

Sekhmet sat there mulling over the best course of action. Although, to be honest, she already knew what she was going to do. Had already decided the moment she’d known the Warden was from Amaranthine, which was where, according to Anders, Bethany was currently stationed with the Wardens. So, there was a chance her sister was beneath Kirkwall and in danger again. 

Delilah must have taken Sekhmet’s silence as a bad sign and spoke to press her request again. “Please, go back to the Deep Roads, find my brother, you must.”

Sekhmet didn’t keep her waiting. “We’ll look into it immediately. I’ll get supplies together and we’ll leave at first light.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Anders growled, his reverie abruptly abandoned.

Sekhmet responded as gently as she could, not giving in to the anger that Anders’ tone instantly invoked in her. “I thought he was a friend of yours?”

A muscle ticked in Anders’ jaw as he responded. “You’re in no condition to be traipsing about the Deep Roads.”

Softly, nearly a whisper because part of her hated the idea of saying the words out loud, she voiced the worry that pulled at her, “Bethany could be with them.”

“You don’t know that,” but it was clear the thought had crossed his mind, too. 

“It makes sense, she was in Amaranthine, and she was with us when we went there. They would have been stupid not to bring her, and if she’s in danger I need to go help her.”

“Sebastian and Varric can go.” Before she could respond Anders stood and held his hand out for Delilah. “We’ll be checking into it. Varric went with us on the trip to the Deep Roads. He’ll know how to find them.”

Looking a bit uncomfortable, but still slightly relieved Delilah shook his hand. “Thank you, serrah.”

He quickly escorted Delilah from the room. Anders might have thought the conversation was over, but there was no way she was leaving her sister’s life in anyone else’ hands. If Bethany was in danger Sekhmet was going to help her, whatever it took.

Sekhmet called out, “Bodahn?”

He appeared almost instantly inside the library. He must have been waiting right outside the door. “Yes?”

“Send messages to Varric, Isabela, and Sebastian that we’re heading into the Deep Roads tomorrow morning at first light.”

Bodahn frowned, and it was as severe a thing as she’d ever seen on the mostly affable dwarf’s face. “But, Mistress Hawke…”

She put up her hand to cut off his pitch for why she shouldn’t go, “I’m not arguing. Just do it.”

Reluctantly, Bodahn left the room. Sekhmet stood up slowly and carefully. She moved towards the kitchen and found Orana sitting on the floor by the kitchen fire reading a book. 

She quickly scrambled to her feet when she saw Sekhmet. “Mistress Hawke, how can I help?”

Sekhmet smiled, she was so glad that Anders had woken up in time to save Orana when she was ill. She would have felt the sweet elven lass’s loss acutely. “Anders and I will be returning to the Deep Roads. We’ll need supplies for five people for one, no better make it two weeks. We’ll be leaving at first light. Have Bodahn and Sandal help you with anything you need assistance with.”

“Right away,” Orana headed directly to the pantry and Sekhmet left her to her work. She knew she’d only be underfoot.

Anders was waiting for her in the main room, muscle twitching in his jaw and foot tapping in annoyance. “It’s not bad enough that you don’t seem to give a fig about putting our child’s life in danger, but now you don’t seem to mind endangering the rest of us either?”

She knew Anders was upset, but it was uncharacteristic of him to make such attacks. “That’s not fair. You know I don’t want to hurt the baby. But, I can’t abandon Bethany, either.”

“And, what if you become tainted?” His face was stern, but it was fear she could feel through their connection.

“Anders,” she moved closer to him.

He moved away, “No, I know I can’t stop you but I don’t have to pretend to like it. And, I’m not happy with you bringing Isabela. She can’t be depended on.”

“She wants a chance. This is it.”

He touched her growing belly briefly. “Couldn’t you pick something with slightly smaller stakes?”

Sekhmet folded her hands over his. “She can do this; she needs to prove to herself that she can.”

With a sigh he disentangled his hand from hers. “I’d feel safer with Fenris.” 

Sekhmet scowled, “You don’t mean that,” with their history he couldn’t possibly mean it.

He arched a brow, “Fenris only wants me dead. He’d protect you to his last breath, so I absolutely do mean it.”

This was all so terribly pointless. “We should pack for the journey.”

Anders shook his head. “I’ll pack. You’re going to sleep.” A smirk gradually touched his lips, “You’re going to need your rest so you can repeat this whole argument with Sebastian once he gets here.”

She sighed a little and nodded, he was absolutely right. Sebastian wasn’t going to be pleased with this trip either. Instead of fretting over it she let Anders escort her up the stairs and then tuck her into bed.

Anders roused her hours later and helped her get dressed. Then, he helped her into her armor. He slipped her pack over his shoulder, rolling his eyes but otherwise ignoring her when she demanded he return it.

“Come here, I want to show you something before we go.” He was smiling so at least it wasn’t anything to worry about. He moved to the far side of the fireplace and grabbed a staff she somehow hadn’t noticed leaning against the wall beside it. At his touch it lit up.

A large crystal atop it glowed a deep purple. The crystal was held between the hands of a woman, whose body was smallish and naked. She had the head of a lioness and her eyes were lit up with the same purple as the crystal she held. On either side of the woman’s body were arcs of metal, much like her father’s staff, but carved into each of them were runes that also glowed the same deep purple at Anders’ touch.

She moved closer and touched the staff that was humming with so much magic it seemed to fill the air surrounding them. The strong magic made her skin sing. Surprised, she let go of it, “Whoa, Anders.”

He grinned, “I know. Sandal is…possibly the most gifted rune enchanter I’ve ever met.”

The staff was made of silverite and shone like the light of the full moon. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

His grin widened, “It’s you, my little lioness.”

She giggled, “Sentimental sot, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, “Depends. She’s beautiful, powerful,” he pressed a hidden latch and as a click filled the room he pulled off the bottom of the staff to reveal a deadly and wicked looking blade, “and dangerous,” he added.

She laughed again, delighted by his addition to the staff. Anders was finally accepting that he was both a healer and a killer. “It’s the most stunning staff I’ve ever seen.”

He shrugged a little, “It’s probably flashier than it needs to be.”

“It wouldn’t be yours if it wasn’t.”

He stepped forward and kissed her softly. She melted into it momentarily, enjoying the obvious joy the staff gave Anders. Eventually, she pushed him away gently. “We should get moving.”

“About that…” 

She sighed already tired of this conversation. “I’m not arguing about this again. I’m going.”

He held up his hands as if warding off her anger. “And, I’m not foolish enough to try to stop you. But, Varric brought Merrill along with Isabela.”

She shook her head; she didn’t like the idea at all. “She’s dangerous.”

“Normally, I would agree. But, considering your condition, your real condition, perhaps extra help should be accepted.”

She wanted to argue, wanted to send her packing home, but Anders was already conceding a lot simply by letting Sekhmet go without a bigger fight. So, instead of picking a fight she simple, if tersely, agreed “Fine.” 

Anders paused a moment, which didn’t bode well. He clearly had something to say but for some reason was hesitant. Eventually, he just blurted it out. “And, in the same vein, Sebastian brought Fenris.”

Her heart lurched, “No, absolutely not. I’m not going to spend the entire trip worrying about him trying to kill you.”

“He promised Sebastian to be on his best behavior, and specifically not to rile me or try to kill me. And, so far, he’s been polite.”

She couldn’t believe him, what had happened in the world while she’d slept that made Anders think that letting Fenris anywhere near him was a good idea? “And you trust him?”

“Fenris has never hidden his feelings about me. He’s never lied to us. And, he’s never left you out in the cold when you needed help. I still trust him more than Isabela. If he’s given Sebastian his word then I believe him.”

She closed her eyes, it didn’t matter what she said. If Anders didn’t convince her she’d just have to face Sebastian and go through the whole mess again. She might as well accept the inevitable now; she couldn’t afford to expend the energy on these arguments. She tired far too quickly as of late. “This is going to be a bloody disaster. We need more supplies.”

“Already done,” he rubbed her back gently, a soothing gesture she wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing half the time. “This trip should be faster than the last. We’ve brought minimal excavating equipment, just enough to clear out any new debris since the last time we were down there. Without a cart we should be much more mobile. Bodahn will handle the running of the estate while we’re gone. So, we’re all set.” He took a deep breath before speaking again, “I would like to reiterate, again, that you don’t need to go. You and I could stay here and let the rest of them handle it. They’re more than capable.”

“I’m going.”

“Understood, but I had to try.” The two of them headed down the stairs and into the dining room where they saw their companions gathered around the table eating. 

Anders escorted her to a chair and pushed her in before sitting himself. Sekhmet was surprised to see so many faces gathered around her table. She almost laughed at the utter ridiculousness, and yet totally appropriate tableau they made. All of the people she knew sitting at the table in full armor and all of them looking speculatively at her, all except Sebastian.

Sebastian looked ill, “Sekhmet, I have to insist…”

Anders shook his head, “Save your breath, Sebastian. I’ve already tried, repeatedly.”

Sebastian shifted in his seat, his eyes pleading much more eloquently than his voice. “Be reasonable, sister.”

Without the chance of Bethany being endangered in the Deep Roads she would have given both Anders and Sebastian what they wanted. But, her concern for Bethany’s welfare made staying behind impossible for her. “I am being reasonable. What would you do if it was one of your brothers and you could save them?”

He tried beseeching her again, “You don’t know that Bethany is down there. And, even if she is you shouldn’t be endangering the child.”

“I’m with him on this, Hawke.” Varric piped in.

“I don’t give a shit,” she snarled. She was beyond sick of the men in her life telling her what she should and should not be doing. “I’m going and if that’s a problem for anyone you’re welcome to leave.”

Sebastian sighed, but sat back in his seat turning his attention back to his food, though with no real appetite. Sullenly, he mostly picked at his food. The rest of their companions remained silent for the rest of the meal as well. 

Fed, and with all arguments as to her staying behind tabled, at least for now, they all prepared to leave. As they moved to put their packs on Anders once again shouldered hers.

“Anders, you can’t carry that the whole way,” she admonished.

“Oh, he won’t be. He and I will be taking turns. We both know you shouldn’t be carrying it.” Sebastian looked at her pointedly and she didn’t bother to argue. It seemed he was determined to get at least something his way.

Anders grinned, “He’s learning to take his wins where he can get them.”

********

Sekhmet did her best not to slow them down, but in her condition it was inevitable. No one complained, or even acted as if they noticed that they were moving so much more slowly than usual. Sebastian and Anders still helped her hide the majority of her symptoms, but she couldn’t hide them all completely.

Anders or Sebastian stayed close to her at all times, doing their best to keep her upright and moving under her own power. Anders’ magic helped combat the worst of her fatigue, but as had been the case all along, nothing seemed to help ease her nausea. The less than pleasant smells of the Deep Roads made her battles against her stomach all the more difficult.

She ignored the worried glances from her companions and just kept herself moving forward. For all practical purposes Varric was leading the expedition. He’d been there before and wasn’t preoccupied with helping Sekhmet.

He took to leadership quite naturally, despite his protestations to the contrary. The others easily followed his lead and seemed to trust him. It made Sekhmet smile to see, even if he’d been pushed into the position a bit against his will.

Anders and Sebastian didn’t complain or give her any more trouble about this excursion, but they both spent the bulk of each day with their lips pressed into grim lines. It took her a day to notice that their frequent stops were orchestrated silently between Anders, Sebastian, and Varric. The dwarf kept looking back and taking cues from the two men and as angry as she wanted to be the truth was that she was grateful for all the stops. 

For their part, none of their other travelling companions complained. Sekhmet wondered if they truly didn’t mind or they merely didn’t want to end up in an argument with Anders and Sebastian. Both men spent an impressive amount of time scowling and the others seemed to want to avoid interacting with both men as much as possible. Even Fenris kept to himself.

She closed her eyes and reminded herself a dozen times a day that the two men fretting over her were a blessing and not a burden. Without the two of them she would have been utterly alone in the world. Anders loved her because of the madness she harbored inside, and Sebastian loved her in spite of it. 

They were both good men and cared about her the best they knew how. And, Sekhmet never made it easy on either of them. She wasn’t sure why they cared so much about her, but considering all she’d lost over the years she was incredibly grateful.

As they travelled deeper and deeper into the Deep Roads they hit small pockets of darkspawn and deepstalkers but nothing terribly worrisome for most of the journey. Anders would call out that there was a band of darkspawn ahead so everyone had fair warning. There hadn’t even been any serious injuries, just minor scrapes and bruising.

Sekhmet had awoken this morning, or at least what approximated morning in the darkness of the Deep Roads, feeling better than she’d felt in weeks. The nausea was almost nonexistent, and at least for now she wasn’t feeling overly worn either. She’d felt well enough that she’d decided to lead her companions today.

Varric seemed happy for the break, and the others seemed slightly more cheerful as well. She wondered if she was imagining it, and decided she didn’t care if she was. It was nice to feel appreciated, even if it was all an illusion.

Anders kept himself several paces behind her, but never out of reach. His eyes were restless and he’d been tense for the last hour. She could feel the tension thrumming like a low chord on a harpsichord. She worried that maybe not having to constantly keep watch over her was freeing his mind up enough to fret about being in the Deep Roads. 

Even Varric had noticed the difference. He kept eyeing Anders uneasily. It was likely that he was remembering the same thing that Sekhmet was. The last time they’d spend any amount of time in the Deep Roads Justice had been in control because Anders hadn’t been able to handle it.

But, he wasn’t sweating or moving erratically, he just seemed very tense. She’d tried to ask him what was wrong, but he’d shushed her, head cocked to the side as if he were listening to something. She’d left him alone after that, not wanting to upset him further. Clearly, something was going on but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Darkspawn,” Anders growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her back towards him less than gently, and startling her. “A lot of them get back, Sekhmet.”

“I can look after myself, Anders.” She snarled as their companions slowed down, several even stepping backwards to give the two some room.

********

“That maybe so, but that child you’re carrying cannot.” He kept his gaze steady on her, he didn’t want to fight with her, but this wasn’t an argument he could afford to lose. “That’s my child you’re carrying, so as the father of the babe and as a healer I am telling you to get back.” He lifted his head and turned to look over their companions. “Sebastian, Merrill keep her out of harm’s way by any means necessary, understood?”

They both nodded and Anders moved close to Sekhmet again, he touched her cheek, “I’m sorry, love, you can’t understand this right now, and I promise to explain it to you when we have more time. Just trust me; there are fates far worse for a woman in the Deep Roads than death or being tainted. I will not risk losing you, and in your current condition you’re not at your best.”

He rounded the bend and saw a veritable sea of darkspawn screeching and seething further down the corridor. He stood there for a moment steeling himself for the battle ahead. He’d never overly enjoyed fighting darkspawn, but he had been quite good at it once. 

“Come on, gorgeous, ready to play?” Isabela sauntered forward.

“Wait, Izzy.” She was as mad as Sekhmet, always ready to rush head first into danger without so much as a plan.

She paused, looking at him quizzically. “Don’t want them to get closer to your lady love, do we?”

Anders smirked, “Oh, they’re not getting anywhere near her.” He strode forward a few steps, pulled on his magic and let it fly down the corridor. The lightning zipped and zinged across the darkspawn notching their cries up to ear splitting levels as they fell one after another in smoking heaps on the ground. The first volley had barely fizzled out when he let loose a second and then a third round. 

“Ugh, fricasseed darkspawn, that’s horrendous.” Varric’s voice was choked coming from behind him.

Anders ignored the dwarf’s complaints and shot more lightning down the corridor, whittling away at the darkspawn’s numbers. He hadn’t seen a group this big since they’d made Zevran’s pendant for him. There were an awful lot of Darkspawn here and it made Anders uneasy, between Corypheus, and Alistair’s allusion to the Architect, and now this overly large grouping of darkspawn, Anders had the feeling something was brewing, and not something that would end well for anyone.

A spike of fear for both Sekhmet and his child made him push himself. Volley after volley zipped down the Deep Roads, destroying any darkspawn before they could get very far down the corridor at all. They ran at him blindly in anger, but were cut down by his magic.

“Wait,” It was Merrill’s voice ringing out.

He stopped, turning to glare at her. He was going to yell at her for bringing Sekhmet so close to the fighting, but she was several meters in front of Sekhmet, and both were well away from Anders. It had merely been the shrill tone of Merrill’s shout that had made it seem so close.

“There’s a man, I think it’s a man, with black hair up ahead. He’s got a bow. You’ll hit him if you keep going.”

Anders’ heart lurched in his chest. Could it really be that Nathaniel was alive somewhere in that mass of monsters? He strained to see him, but couldn’t. He didn’t trust Merrill, likely never would, but he wouldn’t chance hurting Nathaniel. And, what had she to gain by lying? He didn’t think she wanted to hurt Sekhmet, but considering the animosity between the two he couldn’t be sure.

“Good, we finally get to have some fun.” Isabela chimed in as she ran down the hallway, Fenris moving quickly at her side.

Varric and Sebastian were both firing arrows, Sebastian more sporadically than Varric while he worked at keeping Sekhmet by his side. Merrill was using her own magic to help, glyphs and vines, nothing that would risk Nathaniel’s life. Anders followed suit. There were plenty of other spells he could use to hinder, hurt, and kill the darkspawn without jeopardizing Nathaniel.

“Are you seeing this, Choir boy?” Varric called.

“He’s good.” Sebastian responded.

“Good? I’d wager he’d give you a run for your money.” Varric retorted.

Now that he wasn’t so focused on killing darkspawn, Anders could see the head of black hair moving among the darkspawn. He was almost sure it was Nathaniel, and he was alive thankfully. All they had to do no was keep him that way.

The fight seemed to take an eternity, but finally the last had fallen, felled by Nathaniel himself. His former comrade didn’t even seem to notice there were other people in the tunnel until Sekhmet called out to him. “Nathaniel Howe.”

********

As soon as the last darkspawn had fallen Sekhmet had left Sebastian’s side. She moved to stand beside Anders. She made no comment about the anger eating at her over him having two of their companions looking after her as if she needed a sitter. That would be addressed later, privately.

For now, she was far more interested in the Grey Warden they had come here to rescue. He turned and Sekhmet saw that he had the most startling grey eyes. Grey eyes were almost unheard of in Thedas, and from the stunned silence around her the rest of her companions were also momentarily stunned at the discovery.

“You’re the Champion of Kirkwall, aren’t you?” The man’s gravelly voice pulled her from her stunned stare and focused her back on the task at hand. His eyes, those interesting looking greys, looked over her companions and widened slightly before narrowing. For a moment she thought he was upset by something he saw.

It wasn’t until his lips curled slightly, in what might have been a smile that she realized he wasn’t upset at all. “And Anders,” there was a vague sense of relief in his voice when he spoke Anders’ name.

It warmed Sekhmet considerably, and obliterated what remained of her irritation to know that not only did this man know Anders, but he clearly liked him as well. Anders, for his part, smiled in return. “Making friends as always, I see.” Anders’ whole posture was different, he stood taller, and a confidence had settled over him that even Sekhmet rarely saw. Even as he stood taller, he seemed less rigid than usual. Was this another glimpse at the man as he was before Justice?

The faint trace of Nathaniel’s smirk broke out into a grin, “There’s no escaping you it seems.”

Anders’ smile morphed into a smirk and with an irreverent tip of his head he responded, “I’m special that way.”

A slight chuckle from Nathaniel, “That’s one way to put it.”

It made Sekhmet ache to watch them. For all Anders’ assurances that he didn’t miss the Wardens seeing these two together made her wonder if he’d been honest with her. There was a sense of camaraderie between the two men that Anders didn’t share with anyone that they knew. 

She watched the two men, the relief on their faces, and their easy camaraderie for another moment before she got to the necessary business at hand. “Delilah says you followed my expedition’s route, why?”

He didn’t look to Sekhmet until he’d begun to respond. “You went further into the Deep Roads than anyone thought possible. The First Warden himself ordered this investigation. I was offered a generous share of the salvage, plus extra coin up front to discourage any…curiosity.”

What in Thedas were they looking for that they weren’t only going to the thaig, but were willing to have Wardens apparently act like thugs to scare people off? She had trouble reading Nathaniel, his body language gave nothing away and his unusual eyes were disorienting enough that she couldn’t get a read off them either. Caution seemed to be the best order of the day, see what information she could gather first before she made a decision as to what to do next. 

She looked around at the darkspawn laid dead everywhere. She idly wondered how many Anders had killed before Merrill had stopped him. How close had he come to killing his former comrade?

“Looks like you met heavy resistance.”

Nathaniel nodded slightly, “After the Warden Commander spared the Architect we thought the ensuing struggle amongst the darkspawn might make the Deep Roads safer. The Warden’s allies assured us these tunnels would still be mostly clear,” he looked around, a sardonic smile touching his lips, “but it seems they were wrong.”

“They seem to know a great deal about darkspawn. Are these allies dwarves?” She was pretty sure they weren’t dwarves. She and Anders had only spoken of the Architect briefly after the Qunari attacks, but it seemed the Wardens were still working with him, despite most of those who had dealings with him no longer being with the Wardens.

“No, not dwarves,” he sighed. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say we live in strange times.”

Sekhmet looked to Anders, “The Architect?”

He nodded, but didn’t speak.

She was about to ask about how they found the thaig in the first place when Varric cut her off, “Someone want to tell the rest of us who the Architect is, he sounds rather important.”

Nathaniel looked to Anders who nodded, as if giving the other man permission. He took a slow, deep breath, “The Architect was the first of the thinking and speaking darkspawn, very dangerous. He spread his “gift” to other darkspawn, the disciples. Fortunately, their numbers are few.”

Now it was Varric looking to Anders, “Maybe you should tell him about Corypheus, Blondie. He thinks he’s met the first, but I think ours might have beaten him.”

Anders grimaced slightly, “No, the Architect pre-dates Corypheus.”

Varric scowled, “How is that even possible.”

“Leave this one alone, Varric. You won’t like my answers.” Anders suddenly sounded very tired, and Sekhmet couldn’t blame him. Whether he said so or not, she had a feeling that Varric might be Andrastian, and nothing Anders could tell him would do anything other than damage the man’s faith.

To prevent Varric from pushing the issue she quickly spoke, “I don’t remember drawing anyone a map to the thaig. Who told you about it?”

She’d thought the mention of another talking darkspawn would finally garner a reaction from Nathaniel, but he hadn’t reacted at all. She had no idea who had trained the man, nor what kind of training he’d had, but it was very thorough. She could almost believe he hadn’t heard Varric’s mention of Corypheus for all he’d responded.

His face finally shifted as he turned to look at her. Sekhmet wondered if it was genuine or affectation. He looked a little saddened, “An unfortunate dwarf named Bartrand. We weren’t sure his information was reliable, but contacting you or Varric was deemed risky.”

Varric scoffed, “You trusted my turncoat of a brother, but thought talking to us was risky? That’s idiotic.”

Nathaniel didn’t seem offended in the slightest, “We feared you might return if you learned of our interest in the thaig.”

“Right, because the first thing a person wants to do is return to the place of their worst betrayal, and near death happened. We’ve had years to return if we’d wanted to. Obviously, we didn’t want to,” Varric snarked.

“Yet, here you are.” Nathaniel replied.

“We’re here because your sister asked us to come looking for you.” Sekhmet stepped in before Varric could upset himself further. “Speaking of which, we should bring your sister the good news.”

Nathaniel’s brow furrowed, “I cannot leave now. When we were attacked I was separated from the rest of my expedition. Some of them may yet live.” He turned away from them, heading further down the corridor, “We must go deeper into the tunnels to rescue them.”

“Did anyone else survive?” The Wardens were used to fighting darkspawn, but the attack had clearly come as a surprise for them. There might not be anyone else left besides Nathaniel. 

He nodded, “Some Wardens survived the initial ambush. I think the dwarf we brought from Vigil’s Keep survived, but who still lives only the Maker knows.”

If they were as skilled as Nathaniel then she had no doubt that some of them still lived. “We have survivors to find, let’s go.” She quickly agreed, not waiting to see if Anders or Sebastian argued.

Sebastian beamed beside her, no indication at all he was upset with her plan to proceed deeper into the tunnels. “Crawling through Blight infested tunnels, rescuing Wardens in peril? This is what I signed on for. Let’s go find the others.”

Nathaniel quirked a brow briefly before turning to Anders, “We should move, and stay alert for Darkspawn. Bring up the rear, that way we can have someone who can sense darkspawn at either end. They could come at any moment.”

Anders nodded, “I haven’t forgotten that much.”

Nathaniel gave him another fond, if somewhat sad smile, “I’d wager you haven’t forgotten a thing, Anders. You were always far too clever for your own good.” With that he turned and headed purposefully off deeper into the Deep Roads.

The others fell in behind Nathaniel while Sekhmet and Anders fell back. Sekhmet because of the constant fatigue that always pulled at her limbs as of late, and Anders to bring up the back end of their little band. She slowed a bit, but Anders kept pace beside her, “Didn’t you want to ask about Bethany?”

She suppressed the urge to flash him a false smile; he’d have sensed it anyway. “If Bethany was with them they’d have had no need to speak to Bartrand, especially given his mental state.”

Anders’ fingers gently touched her back, a little healing magic as well as a small rejuvenation easing some of her physical discomfort if nothing else. “I’m sorry, love.”

She smiled gratefully as the ache in her lower back ebbed and the fatigue was pushed back again. “Don’t be, it’s a relief she isn’t here. I’d imagine returning here would be even harder for her than it is for me. She had to give up so much because of the time we spent in these tunnels. “She sighed heavily, “And considering my history when it comes to saving members of my family, it’s probably the best thing for everyone that she isn’t here.”

Healing done, he dropped his hand back to his side. “Still, it would have been nice to see her” 

Sekhmet was both grateful and disappointed by the loss of his touch, “I would be happy if she’d just respond to one of my letters.”

Anders reached out and touched her cheek briefly, “Don’t give up, love. She’ll come around.”

Sekhmet smiled, not wanting to disappoint Anders. It had been years since Bethany had been forced to join the Wardens. And, as much as she wanted to hold out hope that Anders was right, it was hard to hold onto that faith after so long. Still, she loved him for trying.


	81. Landslide

They made good time, only running into a couple of darkspawn before coming across a survivor. He was a dwarven man who’d been tinkering with some barrels when they came upon him. He jerked upright holding his knife up as though he was prepared to use it as a weapon.

“Temerin, good man.” At Nathaniel’s kind words the dwarf tucked his knife away and stood a bit taller. “Are there any other survivors?”

“Hopefully, up ahead.” He turned his attention to Sekhmet, eyes widening slightly at the sight of her belly. She really wished people would stop looking so shocked that she was pregnant, it wasn’t some bloody disease. The dwarf nodded to her, “Well met are strangers in the belly of the earth.” 

She couldn’t stop a smile at his appropriate usage of belly. Maybe she’d been over hasty in her aggravation. She nodded to the dwarf in return. Their acknowledgements made Temerin turned his attention back to Nathaniel, “Figured I’d blow up as many of the ‘spawn as I could before I embraced the stone.”

She looked down the hall and saw numerous barrels of what she assumed were explosives. Had they been planning on bringing down the entirety of the Deep Roads on their heads? “What were you going to do with these explosives?”

“We were prepared to do extensive excavations around the thaig you found.” Nathaniel’s gravelly voice was calm and even, she wondered again where he’d received his training.

Temerin gave a hint of a smile, “A few well placed booms prove most efficacious at clearing rubble.”

“With all of that you likely could have excavated half the Deep Roads. How did you manage to get Qunari explosives? I happen to know from personal experience they would never part with it willingly.” She briefly wondered if any of the Tal-Vashoth had decided to make a tidy profit by selling the secret of gaatlok.

Temerin bristled, even his chest puffed out more. “These aren’t Qunari explosives, they’re dwarven made and don’t you forget it.”

Nathaniel turned to her and she thought she might have seen the slightest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but it was so hard to tell with their unusual color. “Temerin’s cousin Dworkin made the explosives back in Vigil’s Keep.”

“Aye, that he did before the sodding Qunari forced him into hiding.” Temerin’s face was far easier to read than his human counterpart’s; he looked ready to declare a war on the Qun all on his own.

Feeling the need for a little levity Sekhmet smiled, “Corridors lined with explosives and darkspawn galore? It’s not even my birthday.”

Several of her companions chuckled behind her. It was good to know that even in the Deep Roads in these unusual circumstances at least a few of them could appreciate a bit of humor. She did not fail to notice that her darling husband was not among those who were amused. In fact, the tension thrumming through the connection they shared seemed to be getting more intense with every passing moment they were in the Deep Roads.

Nathaniel was speaking with Temerin so Sekhmet pulled Anders aside. “What’s troubling you?”

He shook his head, but she wasn’t taking his hesitance for an answer. Something was bothering him and it seemed important. Or, maybe it was something he didn’t want to talk about. “Oh, is it the,” she lowered her voice a touch more, “closed in thing?”

He tried to give her a smile, but mostly failed. “No, but thank you for reminding me of all the distance between us and sunshine.” 

“Something about Nathaniel?” She didn’t know much about the man, but Anders had seemed both comfortable and affectionate with him not all that long ago. Was there something deeper to their history that Anders was just remembering?

Anders just shook his head again. 

“Andraste’s tits, Anders, tell me what the Void has you so damned tense. You’re making my chest ache,” she hissed, frustrated.

He sighed, and kept his voice quiet. “Nathaniel was completely swarmed by darkspawn, yet since then we’ve seen almost none. Still, I can feel them Sekhmet, like insects crawling on the inside of my skull. Where the Void are they all?” His hand gripped hers and squeezed, “They’re close, I can feel it. Stay close to me, please.”

Nathaniel joined them, “He’s right, they’re close.” He looked down to their hands then turned to Anders, “You act as though she’s your woman.”

Anders answered without hesitation. “That’s because she is.”

Nathaniel’s face suddenly became much easier to read, he was furious. “You Anders?” He took a step back his face contorted in a mixture of disgust and what appeared to almost be sadness. “You of all people know the dangers of blood magic. How could you be so selfish and stupid?” 

His upper lip curled into a snarl as he surveyed the rest of Sekhmet’s companions, “Take your friends and leave now. I’d be safer if you’d never come at all.” His gravelly voice had been quiet and didn’t carry far but there was clear menace in the sound nonetheless.

“Hey,” Sekhmet moved to stand between the two men when it looked as if Nathaniel was about to strike Anders. “Stop it!” She hissed back, “He did no such thing.” She kept her voice quiet, not wanting the others overhearing what was a very private conversation. “It was healing magic and an herbal potion and a lot of pain and failure on both our parts.” Nathaniel stilled but didn’t look convinced, she didn’t want to come between Anders and ostensibly one of his friends, and so against her stubborn pride she continued her appeal. “I swear to you, serrah, Anders is no blood mage.”

He stared hard at Anders and Anders stared straight back. There were several long tense moments of silence before Anders spoke, softly but clear. “I made you a promise. I do not make them lightly for I always feel bound to them.” 

Nathaniel stared with his steely eyes, not even blinking.

Anders closed his eyes and pain contorted his features for a moment. “I already lost a son, Nathaniel. Would I have lost him if I’d debased myself and used blood magic?” When he opened his eyes a couple tears escaped his eyes and slipped down his cheeks.

Nathaniel inhaled sharply, all the anger draining from his face as quickly as it had alighted there in the first place. He stood awkwardly for a moment, but after another moment’s pause he stepped forward and pulled Anders into a tight hug. “I’m sorry Anders, for accusing you and for your loss. I am so sorry.” 

The two men held onto one another for a long moment before Anders clapped Nathaniel on the back and the two men released each other. They shifted on their feet a little uncomfortably when they realized how many eyes were on them. Sekhmet had been completely surprised by the sudden affection and then even more surprised by Anders’ complete acceptance of it. Again, she wondered what kind of man Anders had been in the Wardens.

“Is everyone ready to get moving again?” Sekhmet asked, just to pull the focus off the two men.

Everyone nodded or signaled the affirmative in some manner, all but Merrill. Merrill stood there even more pale than usual. She was stiff and Sekhmet could almost smell the fear and sadness rolling off the girl. She almost felt bad for Merrill, from the look on her face Merrill had heard at least part of the conversation, probably Nathaniel’s initial outburst judging by her subdued demeanor. 

Sekhmet had no doubt that after their misadventure in the Vimmark Mountains Varric had told Merrill about the Grey Wardens using blood magic. She likely thought that at least amongst the Wardens she would not have been feared and reviled. It stood to reason, if that were the case, that Nathaniel had shattered that hope to pieces with his tirade. 

At least Sekhmet and the others wouldn’t have to worry about an errant blood magic spell while they were in the Deep Roads. Sekhmet was sure the elf would be very careful not to cast any while in their present company.

Varric started leading the way deeper into the Deep Roads with Nathaniel by his side. Anders paused long enough to kiss Sekhmet on the cheek and whisper his thanks before he took up his position at the back of their little group. Merrill, pale, lost looking Merrill, moved to Isabela’s side and stayed glued there. Sekhmet hoped the two found a kind of solace in each other’s presence.

The barrels ended up being rather useful as they were attacked by several groups of darkspawn. Isabela seemed to take great joy in setting them off and running for cover just to watch the befuddled darkspawn get blown to bits. She hummed and skipped into the fight when they moved close enough to pick off the survivors.

And when they came across a mage taking out a few darkspawn on her own Sekhmet almost couldn’t believe her eyes, “Bethany?”

The mage froze for a moment then turned ever so slowly around, “Is that really you?” She walked past the others until she was standing directly in front of Sekhmet. She glanced down at Sekhmet’s belly and she frowned deeply, “Why would you come back here if you didn’t have to, especially like this?”

Nathaniel came up behind Bethany scowling, “You know each other?”

Bethany shifted on her feet a little and wouldn’t look at Nathaniel, “She’s uh…she’s my sister.”

“You’re sister? You’re Bethany Hawke?” He gripped her shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell us this before? Your information would have been invaluable to the mission.” His glower had returned.

Bethany snorted, “Why didn’t I tell you? After the way the Wardens pressed Bartrand why on earth would I tell you? It seemed prudent to keep my mouth shut and follow orders.”

Varric jostled forward, “What did they do to Bartrand?”

Bethany’s shoulders sagged a little, “Nothing he’ll remember, poor man, even if he is a rotten son of a bitch. The state he’s in is just awful. I’m so sorry, Varric.”

Varric nodded briefly, “Don’t you fret Sunshine, Bartrand brought his fate upon himself. And, after what happened because of his treachery I can’t believe you feel sorry for the bastard.”

She gave him a wan smile, but said nothing more.

Nathaniel moved a few paces away muttering to himself and cocking his head this way and that. Anders also was moving slowly around the chamber they were in periodically closing his eyes. Fenris was watching them both with his customary look of suspicion.

Varric walked away to Fenris’ side speaking to the elf in quiet tones. Sekhmet turned to look for Isabela and saw her speaking with Merrill, stroking the elf’s hair, obviously consoling the girl. She wondered if Isabela realized how much of a tender spot she had for the elf. And the pirate queen tried to claim she couldn’t love. 

Sebastian had moved to stand at Sekhmet’s elbow, “What are they doing?”

“It’s the darkspawn,” Bethany whispered, “they can sense them.”

He looked at her curiously, “So, you can sense them too?”

She shrugged a little, “Not as well as they can. They’ve been Warden’s longer and were made at the tail end of the Blight before the stragglers were even gone. Their connection is stronger.”

“That sounds convenient for being a Warden.” Sebastian whispered back.

Bethany shrugged, “Ask them if it’s worth all the nightmares. I’m told the stronger the connection the worse the nightmares.” 

Sekhmet nodded at Bethany, “Anders almost never sleeps all the way through the night.”

“That’s what keeps him up so often, nightmares of darkspawn?” Sebastian’s eyes were filled with compassion as he looked at Anders across the chamber.

“Don’t tell him you know, he doesn’t like others to know.” Sekhmet regretted saying anything now, but it was too late to take the words back. Sebastian would keep quiet though, he was a good man about things of that nature.

Quietly, Sekhmet studied Bethany for several minutes while her sister was distracted with watching the two men. Her sister was thinner than she had been when last she’d seen her. Her skin was paler, closer to Sekhmet’s own. And, her eyes seemed cold and detached. “You don’t look well Bethany, are you injured?”

Bethany sneered, “Injured? I have the darkspawn taint forever in my veins, barely held in check by the Warden’s ritual.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, took another breath and spoke more gently, “I’m sorry, you did the best you could.”

Sekhmet’s throat burned with restrained emotion. She deserved her sister’s anger; she’d failed to protect her when it was most important. “I wish there’d been a better way.”

Nathaniel and Anders both from their opposite side of the chamber suddenly jerked, turned, and dashed back towards the group. Anders cast one of his aura spells over the group followed quickly by a barrier spell. It must have been something big coming their way.

“We don’t have time for this little chat, the darkspawn approach, a lot of them.” Nathaniel was already nocking an arrow in his bow.

Darkspawn spilled into the chamber from three different directions. Anders pulled Sekhmet back away from them, “Stay here, we’ll keep them away.”

“There’s too many of them, Anders. You’ll spend too much energy trying to protect me.” She pulled her blades and started to move towards the darkspawn to her right.

Anders used magic to grab her and pull her back. “Stay here,” he growled.

She tried to stay calm even as her own anger threatened to overwhelm her. “You can waste your magic on trying to keep me here and possibly let the others die, or you can let me go fight like I’m meant to be doing.”

“Let them fucking rot,” he spat and kept her pinned to the wall.

She spent most of the fight pinned to that damned wall while Anders threw small spells here and there to help the others. It was only when he’d nearly become flattened by a piece of stone hurled at him by an ogre that his concentration broke enough that Sekhmet was freed. She didn’t waste any time and immediately bolted into the fray before Anders could grab her again.

She was slower than when she was in top fighting form, but she was still skilled enough to be able to help. Hurlocks were falling under blades like stalks of wheat, it was invigorating. Isabela wasn’t too far from her and they even worked together to take down a couple of nasty genlocks. 

Sekhmet heard Sebastian holler her name at the same time she heard Fenris screaming Isabela’s. Before she could look to see what had them so worried she felt herself flying through the air, her breath knocked from her lungs. 

********

Anders, frustrated at having lost a hold of Sekhmet and not being able to get her back without endangering her, had immediately killed the ogre that had be the catalyst to his failure. That done, but still agitated he focused on taking out any clustered groups of darkspawn. He’d heard Fenris yell Isabela’s name, but as he was electrocuting a bunch of darkspawn who’d managed to get too close to Nathaniel he didn’t hear or see much else. He was sure someone would call for him if he was needed.

And then, suddenly it was his name being called, screamed hysterically. Merrill was screeching like a banshee, voice high and cracked, calling him frantically. It was only then that he realized he couldn’t feel Sekhmet anymore. 

He looked around and didn’t see either Sekhmet or the still screaming Merrill. What he did see was that there was a huge chunk of stone that could have only been thrown by the last remaining ogre, and that Merrill’s screams seemed to be coming from it. He felt emotions rip through him one after another, fear at having lost Sekhmet, anger at himself for not taking out the ogres instead of concentrating on groups, and finally like mother’s milk the desire for vengeance.

_“Give me control, Anders, and then save her.”_ Justice pushed at him, his fury stoking the fury Anders already felt, and his concern for Sekhmet making Anders more anxious to get to her. Anders only thought about it for a split second, hopefully Nathaniel wouldn’t kill him until after he’d saved Sekhmet, if it was even possible to still save her. He let go of control and was abruptly and violently dislodged by Justice.

_“Don’t forget the others.”_ Anders managed, barely in time before Justice cast.

Justice’s voice rang out loudly in the stone chamber, “Everyone against the wall, now,” he bellowed. Anders felt a flicker of worry when Justice didn’t bother to wait to see if everyone had complied. He simply unleashed an enormous wave of spirit fire that reduced the darkspawn all to ash as he ran towards the boulder when Merrill was still screaming Anders’ name. He released control back to Anders before he’d even reached it. 

He moved around the enormous chunk of stone where Merrill was keening on the floor and frantically casting. Anders froze for a moment at the sight in front of him. Both Isabela and Sekhmet lay unmoving on the ground and Sebastian was barely moving beside them.

All worries of Nathaniel killing him evaporated in the shock of the gristly sight before him. Maker, he didn’t have enough left in him to fix all this. He needed to calm himself, to turn off the fighter and the husband. These three needed their healer. 

Trelain’s voice came back to him, “the best damned healer in generations.” Trelain wasn’t prone to exaggeration, so if anyone could help them, could fix this is was Anders. The thought calmed him a little and he started to assess the damage.

Isabela’s left leg was clearly broken, half her face looked flattened and one of her hands had nearly been amputated. Sekhmet was bleeding from a wound in her head, one arm looked nearly flat, the other had bones sticking through in the skin of the forearm. Her legs were also at a very wrong angle, probably from a broken back or maybe pelvis. Sebastian’s lower jaw was clearly dislocated, one arm was completely crushed and he was wheezing up flecks of blood indicating internal bleeding.

“I stopped it from hitting them, but the force was too much for me to protect them completely. The shockwave sent them flying. Oh Creators Anders, I tried, I really did I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Help me, help me save them please.” Merrill’s babbled lamentations stirred him back into action.

He dropped to his knees beside Sekhmet and as much as he hated himself for it he checked to see if the babe was still viable before he did anything else. It still lived, but was in obvious trouble. He did what he could for it before moving on to check Sekhmet’s head wound.

Bethany had gone to Sebastian and was working on his injuries. Sebastian kept trying to speak to Bethany even after she tried to calm him several times. Anders snapped at him, “Stop trying to talk Sebastian, you’ll undo all the work she’s done. You can pray to your Maker after you’re healed. Now lie still and shut up.”

He looked at Merrill who was still trying to heal what she could of Sekhmet, “Merrill, calm down. None of them are dead, you did well. Now, go check Isabela for internal bleeding. If there is none heal that hand before she loses it or bleeds out.”

Merrill nodded and turned to Isabela still openly weeping, but no longer babbling. He looked to Bethany, “Unless your healing has improved quite a bit since the last time we worked together you’re going to need to leave that arm for me, otherwise he’ll never shoot his bow again.”

She nodded, “A little better, but not enough to give him full use back.” 

Anders moved to Sekhmet’s back and was relieved it wasn’t broken. Both of her hips had been dislocated. He left them and moved to her partially crushed arm. Solace was there pushing at him, sobbing, but giving him strength to keep going.  
And, while he appreciated that he could finally feel what solace felt he had to be hard in moments like this, had to triage and direct to get everyone the care they needed. “Varric, I need you to get together any lyrium you can find. Fenris, use poultices and elfroot to take care of anyone who doesn’t need a healer.”

“What do you need me to do?” Nathaniel asked softly.

He felt a quick flash of panic at Nathaniel’s voice, wondering if briefly if it would be the last thing he heard. He was probably being uncharitable to the man; he wouldn’t hurt Anders while he still held other people’s lives in his healer’s hands. Taking a breath to calm himself he responded, “Keep an eye out, make sure we don’t get attacked while we heal them.” 

Anders concentrated on healing Sekhmet’s arm perfectly. Merrill or Bethany could handle the dislocations and the bones in her other arm, but he had to do the precise work this one required. And then, he’d need to fix Isabela’s face, make sure Merrill got all the nerves properly reconnected in her wrist and then had to heal Sebastian’s arm as well.

Nathaniel kept his bow out but he didn’t leave. “We won’t be attacked, at least not by darkspawn. For the first time since I’ve been down here I don’t sense a single darkspawn. We’ve won.”

Anders nodded without taking his attention from his work, “In that case, when Varric and Fenris are done set up camp. The three of them aren’t going to be able to travel.”

Nathaniel knelt beside him, hand comfortingly settling on his shoulder and he spoke softly “Is she going to lose the child?”

Anders didn’t want to think about it, but he answered anyway. “I’ve done what I could; all we can do is wait and see now. Her body’s taken a terrible shock.”

Nathaniel stood and moved away and Anders was glad to be able to focus once again on his healing and nothing else. Once he was done with Sekhmet he switched places with Merrill. She healed the remainder of Sekhmet’s wounds while he finished healing Isabela.

He’d almost missed that Isabela also had a brain injury and healed that as well. It was what he called a rebound injury where the brain bounced around in the skull. He’d never read or been taught anything about it but he often found injuries on the brain that were opposite of where you would think they should be from a blow to the head.

Once he was sure she was out of the woods as well he switched places with Bethany. She worked on Isabela’s leg and Anders drank down his third bottle of lyrium. He settled beside Sebastian and started carefully working on the archer’s arm. “Don’t looks so glum, Sebastian. It’ll be good as new. She’d never forgive me if I did anything less than my best for you.”

“I should have been keeping a closer eye on her. I don’t know how I got so far from her. I was so wrapped up in the idea of glory I was blinded to what was really important.” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse and rough sounding, nothing like the beautiful, lilting tones he normally spoke with.

“There’s no point in blaming yourself. Sekhmet does as she pleases regardless of those who worry about her. It is who she is. Now rest while I fix your arm.” The bones and connections were so damaged it took Anders more than an hour and two more lyrium potions to finally fix the arm. He had been right though, you couldn’t even tell Sebastian had been injured once he’d finished healing him.

While Anders had been working on Sebastian Fenris had moved both Sekhmet and Isabela to their bedrolls close to the fire. Neither had awoken yet and it might be some time before either of them did. He hoped they had enough supplies to last while everyone recovered enough to make the trip back to the surface.

Finally done with healing everyone Anders briefly though about talking to Nathaniel about Justice, the thought of trying to do that in his current condition suddenly struck him as a bad idea. He was exhausted both from the fight and from healing. He wasn’t even sure what to say to the man at this point. 

So instead he settled down on his own bedroll close to the fire and gratefully took the bowl of soup Bethany handed him. He ate without a word then prepared to lay down to rest. The buzz and nausea from the lyrium was starting to wear off, but he needed rest. They all needed rest.

He paused before lying down. “We should take turns on watch, but the mages sleep first because of the healing they did. After that do what you will, if you need me to watch please do not touch me to wake me.”

He lay down beside Sekhmet and closed his eyes, sleep for once reaching out eagerly for him. He let himself drift away knowing that if Sekhmet awoke and he did not stir with her someone would wake him.


	82. Shifting Shadows

Bethany woke up hours later, a bit stiff but no worse for wear after the long day of fighting she’d had. She sat up slowly and looked over their little camp. The way they were huddled in small groups or sitting alone, huddled and tense reminded her of the journey from Gwaren to Kirkwall in the belly of the ship.

And, these people she knew, had known, looked as strained now as the refugees had looked then. Varric had lost weight, his face was leaner and the first threads of grey were slivering through his hair. His eyes looked more guarded, even as he sat huddled with Merrill. 

As for the elf, it wasn’t a physical thing that made her look older, but she was wound tight, and seemed almost fragile. She whispered urgently to Varric whose voice spoke back in soothing tones, though Bethany couldn’t catch what they were saying. Merrill wrung her hands repeatedly as she spoke and stole little nervous glances at Nathaniel.

Those furtive looks were enough for Bethany to guess what they were speaking about. Merrill was a blood mage, and Nathaniel had always been very strict about never working with blood mages. Had they come across some situation before finding her that had required the elf to use her blood magic?

She’d never seen him lose his temper before, but she wondered if suddenly finding himself in the Deep Roads with a blood mage would have been enough to make him lose it. Had he lost his temper with Merrill and she was still this agitated even hours later? If that was the case, it was more than enough to make Bethany glad she’d never been interested in blood magic. 

And, why bother learning blood magic when there were so many other forms of magic one could learn. She’d never dreamed there were so many spells, so many schools of magic that could be learned. Even Father, who had spent time in a Circle, had never mentioned many of the types of magic she’d learned since joining the Wardens. And, the more mages she met in the Wardens the more amazed she was.

On another of these expeditions she’d met a pretty Ferelden elven mage who had known Nathaniel. He hadn’t wanted to comment on Nathaniel other than to say he had a reason for everything he did. She hadn’t minded, she’d been fascinated by his magic, which was the most beautiful shade of emerald green. More than that, he was able to transform himself into animals. She hadn’t been able to master anything in the time they’d travelled together, but she’d learned the basics and was determined to be able to shapeshift into at least one animal, eventually.

The world was filled with incredible wonders…and monsters.

She wasn’t quite ready to face the monsters just yet, so she stretched a little and continued to scan the cavern, carefully not looking at her sister. Instead, her gaze sought out her current commander. She’d actually been assigned to him on a permanent, or as permanent as the Wardens got, basis. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

She’d noticed, both from reports as well as her own experience, that when there was a particularly tricky assignment in the area the Wardens always sent Nathaniel to head the expedition. He was the Warden Commander in Ferelden, but he spent much of his time abroad in the Free Marches, Antiva, and even Nevarra. She’d thought it was a show of faith in his skills by the First Warden, after all he had a way of quickly assessing any group of people’s skills, strengths, and weaknesses and figuring out how best to set up their unit for maximum efficiency in just a few moments.

However, on the last expedition of Nathaniel’s she’d been sent on one of the other wardens had told her another theory. He seemed to think Nathaniel was sent on so many difficult assignments not just because he always returned with more Wardens alive than anticipated, but because the First Warden wasn’t really fond of the Commander of Ferelden or his Wardens. Apparently, Nathaniel was thought to be a bit of a maverick and Ferelden had funny rules about Wardens.

The Warden, lubricated heavily with drink and several knowing nods from some of the Wardens with them, continued to elucidate his theory. He stated that the First Warden, while pleased with Nathaniel’s success and return rates, also hoped the man would fail to return himself during one of these more dangerous expeditions. She didn’t know how much of it was true, if any, but many Wardens who’d never worked with Nathaniel before generally grumbled about the assignment to one of his teams as if it were punishment before an expedition set out. 

Of course, those same men and women were singing his praises when they returned alive.

Thinking on it now she wondered at the reason she so seldom saw the same Wardens travelling with Nathaniel on these trips. That in and of itself was odd, mostly Wardens worked in teams they were familiar with for higher efficacy. She’d been a bit of an anomaly, shuffled around as needed for years.

As for Nathaniel, while he had charge of Vigil’s Keep and oversaw all of Ferelden’s Wardens it seemed the First Warden rarely let him chose who would follow him on the endless expeditions they sent him on. In fact, she had more than an inkling that the first time she’d been sent to him they’d hoped she’d be a hindrance. She’d still been angry and sullen over being made a Warden, and hadn’t gotten a handle on the increased potency of her magic as of yet. 

Nathaniel had been polite, but stern with her. He hadn’t treated her with kid gloves, but expected her to pull her weight like any other Warden. And, it had been this, above all else, that had first caught her attention. 

All her life she’d been protected, coddled, babied, even when she herself hadn’t wanted it. For years, first in Carver’s and then in Sekhmet’s steps, she’d followed, only wanting to be treated as an equal. Not even the Wardens, who had dragged her near lifeless body from the Deep Roads had truly treated her as one of them, but rather someone to watch over. 

Anders had only begun acting as if they were equals after her joining. And, she could tell in some of his letters that it greatly pained him to do so. It wasn’t his fault, not really, she’d told Anders he reminded her of her father, what did she expect?

She’d been surprised when she’d been given her latest orders, not that she was going on another expedition with Nathaniel, but that they wanted her to return to Vigil’s Keep with him when it was over. It was her fifth reassignment, but it was the first time she had any reason to hope it might be permanent. She wondered if Ferelden would feel different to her now that she was returning as a Warden.

She focused her gaze on him again. Nathaniel, whose face she could just make out in the flickering firelight, was fletching some arrows not far away. His fingers worked nimbly, and his eyes were riveted on his work. She wondered if the man ever slept, she’d never seen him do it, certainly. He nodded to her, but remained silent. 

Nathaniel, the latest in a string of commanders she’d been shuttled to, was a better distraction than most. With his low, gravelly voice and intense grey eyes he stirred her. She’d been infatuated with him since she’d met him several years before.

He’d been surly, but keenly intelligent and exuded a quiet confidence, unlike the arrogance so many other Wardens displayed. She’d sought out his company as much as she could on the expeditions they’d been on together. She’d made sure to keep the conversations fairly innocuous. She’d heard he did not take kindly to people looking for stories of the Hero of Ferelden or the mysterious events that had transpired at Vigil’s Keep.

And while, unlike many Wardens, he seemed perfectly comfortable with mages he refused to work with blood mages at all. A fact that Merrill had apparently learned in the short time she’d known Nathaniel, or Bethany assumed she had considering her nervous behavior. Beth had asked him about it once, and only once. 

One of his hands had absently touched his thigh and the muscle along his jaw tightened. She’d quickly changed the subject before he answered. There was obviously a story there, but certainly not one that he would be comfortable sharing. And privacy was something all Wardens, including herself, cherished.

Nathaniel, what little she knew of him, was a somber man, or seemed to be most of the time, but he’d been different on this trip. He’d smiled when he’d seen her. It was subtle, a slight shifting of his lips, a hint of curvature. “So, you’re my Kirkwall expert?”

“I’ve spent a few years there,” she responded warmly.

“I was worried they were going to send me someone completely green.” Even his voice sounded warmer than usual, or maybe it was just her imagination.

She flashed him a smile, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She was rewarded when he smiled again, a little wider this time, “As it was intended.”

It had been a good beginning to what had been an interesting and revelatory journey. Nathaniel, it turned out, was quietly funny, with a wry wit. He favored subtle humor, but did enjoy a good joke. He’d even laughed with some frequency on their trip. 

Perhaps, it was because he knew a few of the people accompanying him.

And now there was Anders. They seemed to know each other and she could guess they were Wardens together. What struck her was that up until the fight Anders had seemed much more relaxed around Nathaniel than he did most people.

Since the fight though, he’d been tense and had turned nearly white when Nathaniel had knelt beside him. It hadn’t been difficult to figure out what had caused the rapid change. Justice had come out, and granted he’d whipped out a dollop of heavy magic ending the fight and then quickly slipped away, but it didn’t change the fact that Nathaniel had seen it.

Most people would have been horrified to learn that their friend, if that’s what they were, was possessed, but looking at Nathaniel now he seemed unconcerned. It was true as a Warden that Nathaniel had to see the world differently from most people, but Beth wasn’t sure that included possession. And, as possession and blood magic were usually so intertwined she had to admit his restraint seemed a miracle.

Anders must be a very special person for Nathaniel to seem so unbothered by it. Or, perhaps, it had been Justice’s uncharacteristic show of power that had quelled Nathaniel’s response. It was hard to be indignant when you knew the person in question could turn you to a pile of ash at merely a thought.

She never quite understood how Sekhmet had never been afraid of Anders or Justice, especially considering that for a while Justice was trying to kill her on a semi-regular basis, or at least that’s what it had felt like. Personally, Beth thought someone trying to kill you once was more than enough. Sekhmet, however, had always had her own stubborn ideas about things. And, no matter what happened, she never feared Anders or Justice, and she believed, truly believed, that Anders was a good man.

Not that Beth didn’t think he was a good man, she did. She just didn’t understand how her sister had been able to look past Justice’s attempts on her life to see that good man without at least a little fear. She’d known Sekhmet was fearless, but Justice should have terrified anyone, especially Sekhmet.

And here she was, from Nathaniel, to Anders, back to her sister. It struck her as momentarily amusing how the mind always turned back to the thing you were most trying to avoid. It seemed her thoughts had strayed as far as her mind would let her, so there was no use putting it off for any longer.

Steeling herself, she looked to her sister. It hurt to see her, hurt to know that there was still a gulf between the two of them and that it was mostly her own fault. Sekhmet had tried to reach out to her in letter after letter. Sekhmet was really her only tie left to her old life. Why did she spend so much time resenting her?

Beth hadn’t loved that life, she’d hated it. She’d hated the constant fear and frustration of it. She’d hated every moment on the run. She’d been scared all of the time.

She’d had to hide her anger and her fears to placate Carver, and her mother. And, when Sekhmet returned she’d had to work even harder to hide what she really felt. The only relief she’d felt was for a few moments the first time she’d realized how far Sekhmet would go to keep her safe.

Unfortunately, it had immediately been followed by guilt which had opened up a deep gully inside of her. She wasn’t sure if Sekhmet had truly never seen, or if she’d merely pretended not to see the trap the two of them had ensnared each other in within Kirkwall’s oppressive walls. Both pretending they were happy, and that they weren’t giving up their lives for each other.

She felt her throat constrict a little with emotion and quickly blinked back tears. She’d hated that life. So what, precisely, was she so angry at Sekhmet for? Her heart knew the answer and whispered it in unkind tones. 

Sekhmet had all that Bethany had once longed for, a man who loved her, a stable home, and soon enough a family. Sekhmet had seen their mother returned to their ancestral estate, while Bethany had been shipped off to oblivion and obscurity like a dirty secret.

She closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath. It wasn’t Sekhmet’s fault. She’d asked to go into the Deep Roads. Sekhmet could control the whims of her heart no more than Bethany could. And, her love certainly wasn’t an easy one. Anders was a difficult man in the best of times, and close to terrifying in the worst.

She reflected on the lack of fear in her own life now. She wore the Warden colors and insignia always and whether they liked the Wardens or not, none would dare to touch her. Even in the heat of battle she was not afraid. She’d made a mark, done some good, and knew that if the Maker existed he would be pleased with her life in the Wardens.

She worked hard, trained hard, and put her all into every moment with them. She’d sweated and bled for them. Her body had become a patchwork of scars signaling her dedication to killing Darkspawn.

She had nothing to rival the scar her sister bore. And nothing that rivaled the weight her sister carried with that scar, but her body told its own story of battles waged now. Her sister might hold a title, but Bethany held a sacred duty. She was “Sunshine” no longer.

She stifled a shiver at the thought. She’d never really thought about how much she’d changed in the intervening years since she’d left Kirkwall other than the ball of pain and anger she’d clung to so strongly. Let this be an end to it then. She hoped to lay aside that tangle of emotions just as she laid aside Varric’s moniker.

And, for the first time since she could remember, she really looked at her sister. Didn’t just merely acknowledge her presence, or glance at her but really took a good look. She almost wished she hadn’t.

Sekhmet was still sleeping, Anders now almost entirely on her bedroll wrapped tightly around her. His arm draped around her sister’s expanded waist and his face was buried in her hair. Her always pale skin had an almost bluish cast to it even in the golden light of the fire.

Dark circles marred the skin below her sister’s eyes and her cheek bones shone sharply against her skin. Sekhmet should have been rounding out with her pregnancy, but instead it looked as if she had swallowed a large stone and was slowly starving to death. Even her fingers looked more slender, almost as if her bones were wrapped in leather.

Heart picking up a bit of speed at her sister’s apparent illness she looked for other signs. Sekhmet’s breathing was slow and even, but it clearly wasn’t a natural sleep. Her sister had always been a light and restless sleeper. Usually, the slightest noise woke her and she tossed most of the night. Sekhmet’s complete stillness unsettled Bethany.

She told herself it was from the healing, it might have been true of the stillness but not of her sister’s color, or thinness. How had she not noticed her sister’s nearly birdlike appearance? And how, for Maker’s sake, had they thought it was all right to bring her into the Deep Roads, not just pregnant but ill.

Suddenly angry she stood abruptly and walked over to where Varric sat at the edge of the encampment talking in murmured tones with Merrill. Merrill looked a bit wan herself, haunted almost. And, at any other time Bethany would have been concerned about the elf, but right now she wanted answers.

“Varric,” she hissed.

He glanced up, lips lifting in a smallish smile, “My Lady Sunshine, what can I do for you?”

She bristled at the nickname she’d decided so recently to discard but pressed on. “How sick is she?”

He glanced away from her towards the darkness, “Who?”

Once upon a time his feigned ignorance would have gone unnoticed by her. “How sick?” She asked again.

He shook his head, “I don’t know. She pretends she’s not.” He shifted on the rock he’d been using for a seat and gestured towards Sebastian, “Ask Choir Boy, he knows her better than anyone besides Blondie.”

Bethany was a little confused, “The brother?”

Varric chuckled, but it was mostly mirthless, “I know, surprised me too.”

Merrill spoke up briefly, “If one’s not at her side the other is.”

Bethany nodded and headed towards Sebastian. As she crossed the small encampment she saw Isabela and Fenris. Izzy still slept soundly, but Fenris sat up beside her keeping a silent vigil. Anders had once written her that whatever connection had between Fenris and Isabela had ended when she’d fled Kirkwall. Perhaps Anders had been wrong, Fenris looked plenty concerned about Izzy. He, like Nathaniel, nodded to her, but didn’t say a word.

How odd it was that Anders had told her about Fenris and Isabela, but not of her sister’s fondness for Sebastian. And, none of the few letters she’d actually read from her sister had mentioned him either. All she remembered of the man was that he’d once commissioned them to kill an entire mercenary band for him.

There, ahead of her in the darkest corner of their little camp sat Sebastian, alone. His knees were pulled up to his chest and he was staring morosely into the darkness. She walked up to him and was surprised that he didn’t even turn to look at her.

“Hello, Mr. Vael.”

“Bethany,” he answered quietly but ventured nothing further and still did not turn to look at her.

“You look lost,” she said, gently.

“Lost?” He sighed, finally turning his gaze on her. “Yes, quite accurate.”

“May I sit down?”

He nodded, lashes fluttering once over the pretty teal eyes she only remembered once she saw them. She wondered what her sister’s relationship to this man was. Could it be he was the real father of her child? Being as Wardens weren’t able to have children it was a possibility. 

And, if that was the case had he done it as a favor to Anders and Sekhmet, or had it been unexpected? The idea that it was unexpected didn’t feel right. Sekhmet wouldn’t have endangered her relationship with Anders after all the time she’d chased after the man. Or, at least Bethany couldn’t imagine she would. 

She settled herself beside him and was surprised when he gave her a small smile. “I almost feel like I know you. Call me Sebastian, please.” His gaze was soft and fond.

“I wish I could say the same. You’re a bit of a mystery to me.” She kept her voice gentle; the man looked so fragile she was afraid of upsetting him before she got the answers she needed.

“Nothing to me, really. I was a brother of the Chantry, my family was killed, your sister helped me avenge their deaths and was kind enough to befriend me. And now, as you say, I’m rather lost.” His voice was monotone and everything was recited rather rapidly.

“The others seem to think you can answer some questions for me.” She prompted gently.

His gaze went to Sekhmet and she watched as sadness swam over him. He looked absolutely miserable, but he nodded.

“How sick is my sister?”

He flinched, “We should have made her stay home, no matter what she said.” He looked away but not before she caught the tear at the corner of his eye. “I should have been watching her better. I’m sorry.”

“Mr. Vael, Sebastian, I need to know how sick she is and why hasn’t Anders healed her?”

“If I’d been watching her better she wouldn’t have been hurt so badly.”

She was losing him. She touched his arm gently and he seemed to calm a bit. He placed his hand over hers, “She does that, too. You’re not really as different as night and day, no matter what you two look like.”

Surprised, she couldn’t help asking, “Did she say that?”

“No, Serrah Tethras did.”

She nodded, “In many ways we are as different as the sun to the moon. But, during the time I have been away I’ve discovered that in many ways we are perhaps more alike than I’d ever wanted to admit to myself.”

Still touching her hand he spoke softly, “She grieves for you, you know.”

“Whatever for?” Wasn’t there more than enough of the dead to mourn without also mourning for the living?

He settled back against the stone wall and stretched his legs out a little. “She knows you did not wish to become a Warden and that you dislike it. And, she misses you. The others all tell me there’s nothing she could have done to prevent what happened, but she thinks she robbed of your chance at a real life, the life you wanted.”

Bethany was surprised and had no idea what to say. 

Sebastian seemed a trifle more alert now, “Is it true you write to Anders but not to her?”

She hung her head feeling slightly ashamed, “It is.”

He smiled again, “He cares for you a lot. Always called you Beth when he talked about you and couldn’t help smiling while he said it. The affection in his voice when he talks about you reminds me of how I felt about my little cousin.” He shifted, the smile melting away. “Can I ask why it is you write to him but not to your sister?”

His little sideline about Anders talking about her had surprised Bethany. She’d assumed when Sebastian told her he felt like he knew her he’d been referring to Sekhmet talking about her, not Anders. And, his shift had been a little disconcerting as well, from the happy conversation about Anders and his cousin, then twisting back around to Sekhmet and the letters.

“Why is it so important?”

He shrugged, then pressed his lips together before finally sighing. “You were willing to lose her, push her out of your life when you’d already lost the rest of your family. I suppose I want to understand it.” 

His gaze swept back to Sekhmet and his eyes teared up again. “There was this hole inside me when I lost my family, which I’d filled with anger and desire for retribution. And when that was gone I was just this empty vessel being tossed about by waves. 

“Your sister understood it; saw the ache in me before I really understood it myself. I didn’t replace my family with her, please don’t think that. But somehow, having her in my life made it hurt less, made me feel less empty. 

“Travelling with her gave me purpose. Talking with her reminded me I wasn’t alone.” 

He looked at Bethany and smiled, “The others would laugh at me, but maybe you’re not as jaded as they are. I think perhaps the Maker sent your sister to save me from myself. She’s the one who talked me into to trying to return to the Chantry. 

“I can see the skepticism in your eyes. I know she’s not a believer, but she’s always tried to help me do what’s best for me.” He took a shaky breath, “If she dies because I wasn’t paying attention, I’ll never forgive myself and I could never return to the Chantry. So, I ask why in hopes that in understanding the why I might figure out how to go on if I ever lose her.”

She tried to soothe him, “Anders healed her, she’ll recover Sebastian. There’s no need to worry.”

“Possessed or not, he’s still just a man. And, you said it yourself, she’s sick.”

She’d almost forgotten why she’d originally sat down with Sebastian. “How sick?”  
“We all tried to make her stay home, believe me, we tried. But, you know how she can be.”

Bethany nodded, yes her sister was one of the most stubborn people she’d ever known. “How sick, is she?”

He shook his head, “I’m not a healer and I have no schooling in such things, but she seems weaker all the time. Have you seen her eating? She’s been fighting with nausea, dizziness, weakness. Anders puts on a brave face, but he’s worried, and I don’t like that at all.”

Frankly, the idea that Sekhmet was sick and Anders was worried terrified Bethany. Perhaps she’d been naïve, but she’d always sort of felt that Anders was a miracle worker. Hadn't he even saved her from almost certain death once?

Sebastian must have read her thoughts on her face, “Yes, that’s precisely the way I felt when I realized how worried he was.” 

He leaned towards Bethany and lowered his voice, “Anders has always been a very difficult test of my faith. How could a man possessed, an abomination, have such capacity for good? How could he have the power to save so many? How could he find love when so many other people go without? Was he right about mages? Was he right about Templars? And now I don’t know which is worse, that I know he’s just a man or that him being just a man might mean he can’t save Sekhmet.”

“He’ll die before he gives up on her.” She’d meant it as hyperbole, but if she was being honest she could imagine Anders doing exactly that.

Sebastian nodded, “I’ve been praying for weeks, asking the Maker to take me instead of her if he needs one of us, but I doubt I’m worthy any longer for him to listen to.”

Bethany almost laughed, “She’d kill you if she knew you’d been praying to trade your life for her.”

He smiled a little, “I know.”

They sat in silence for a while. Bethany found Sebastian’s presence comforting. She’d been a devout Andrastian once in her life. Knowing that Sebastian was another lost soul like she was comforted her. 

She even suspected she knew what had bonded her sister and Sebastian. They both bore the burden of huge familial losses. Maybe he filled a hole for Sekhmet as much as he said Sekhmet had filled one for him.

When the loss of Carver swept over her again it wasn’t as raw or wrenching as it had once been. It still froze her insides and made her head ache, but she no longer felt like half a person without him. She closed her eyes and let a tear slip down her cheek. She’d stopped being ashamed of her tears for Carver ages ago.

Eventually, she felt the need to answer Sebastian’s earlier question, more for herself than for him. She wouldn’t be able to give him reassurance of his ability to live without Sekhmet so long as he thought he needed her. She’d been in the same trap herself once, thinking she’d never be able to survive without her family. 

She’d been wrong then, just as he was wrong now, but no one could tell him that. The ability to survive was something you had to discover all on your own. And, she was keeping to the thought that Anders, even if he was at a loss now, would find a way to help her sister. So, with a last glance at her sister sleeping, so tightly clutched in Anders’s arms she spoke to Sebastian.

She answered him as honestly as she could. “Anders has always been truthful with me, no matter how ugly the truth is. He does not treat me as someone who needs to be shielded and coddled. He understands that I am his equal. She never has and never will.” Beth sighed, exasperation creeping back into her voice, “Her letters to me are still filled with hopeful drivel. Yet, she never told me of Anders, never told me of the babe.”

Sebastian sat quietly beside her for long minutes and she almost thought he might have fallen asleep sitting up. She was fairly sure he hadn’t slept after being healed, so it wouldn’t have surprised her. She’d just about made her mind up to head back to her bedroll when he finally spoke. “Did you never think perhaps she was protecting herself, not you?”

“How so?”

“Your sister has spent a good chunk of her relationship with Anders fearing she would lose him,” his eyes skipped away from her to fix on a point on the floor, “and any expectant mother is fearful of losing their child.” He turned back to look at her again, “ Is it not conceivable that she did not tell you because she is afraid to lose them?”

“I was under the impression you knew Sekhmet well, but you’re mistaken, Serrah Vael, my sister isn’t afraid of anything.” A small part of her, the part who hadn’t let go of the last remnants of her anger was mildly irritated that he was trying to protect Sekhmet still, stand up for her actions by trying to explain them away.

“Except being alone.” His voice was quiet and his gaze had turned to her sister’s still sleeping form.

She was about to argue with him, but something about his words rang true. It was something to ponder at least. She stood up slowly, deciding not to bother Sebastian anymore. “You should sleep, Sebastian. You need to rest after being healed, and Sekhmet wouldn’t want you straining yourself. When she wakes up she’s going to need you ready to travel.”

He nodded, but she had the impression he had no intention of sleeping. She walked back to her bedroll and pulled the latest book she’d been working on from her bag. She studied everything she could about Darkspawn, and was pleased to find that all of the Warden locations she’d been assigned to had incredible collection of books on that, as well as many other topics. 

She smiled thinking about all the times Sekhmet had tried to get her to read more. Would her sister approve of her improved reading habits? For a moment, she thought about telling her sister about it, but worried the subject would only add to the burden of guilt her sister bore on her behalf.

Hours ago Nathaniel had advised them to let the fire die down since then she’d been reading by wisp. The only thing marking time was Nathaniel as he paced around the camp every hour or so before returning to his bedroll. He didn’t lie down, didn’t sleep, and was just out of clear view of Bethany’s wisp, so she wasn’t sure what he was doing to while away the hours.

Her attention was abruptly pulled from her book when she heard a sudden commotion from where her sister and Anders slept. She glanced up and saw movement before she heard Anders’ voice on the other side of the fire pit, “No, come on love let’s move you a bit.”

Wanting a better look she lit her wisp brighter and sent it closer to Anders, curious at what was going on and whether or not her sister had awakened. Sekhmet still looked to be unconscious, but Anders was dragging her out of her bedroll and carrying her a little ways away. Bethany’s wisp followed them across the cavern, Anders didn’t seem to mind, he glanced up at it briefly before he started lowering Sekhmet towards the ground and she suddenly vomited.

Bethany looked to Nathaniel, who has moved closer to her while Anders had been moving Sekhmet. The look of confusion and concern on his face mirrored her own emotions. It was even more disconcerting since Nathaniel rarely let his emotions show on his face. 

Anders hadn’t been using magic, so how had he known Sekhmet was going to vomit? As a matter of fact, Bethany was fairly certain Anders had been sleeping only moments before the incident. She hadn’t seen him, of course, but she neither had she heard his breathing change. “I thought he was sleeping,” she murmured quietly, not at all sure of herself now.

“He was,” Nathaniel responded, just as quietly. “Could it be a spell of some sort?”

“Possibly, if there’s one thing I’ve learned since joining the Wardens it’s that I know next to nothing about all the magics there are in the world.” She watched as Anders held her sister’s head tenderly while she emptied what looked to be bile from her stomach and not much else.

When it was done Anders cleaned her with a bit of magic then picked her up and started carrying her back to the bedroll. He paused when the light from Bethany’s wisp, still following him, illuminated Sebastian, who had been mostly invisible in the shadows of his far corner. Anders walked over to him, still holding Sekhmet in his arms.

“You need to sleep, Sebastian.” His voice was gentle but carried easily in the small confines of their camp.

“I know, I just can’t sleep.” Sebastian murmured in return.

“Bull shit,” the light from Bethany’s wisp showed how weary Anders looked, “you’re staying up to punish yourself over something you had no control over. Get your ass to bed, now.” Anders’ voice raised a fraction.

“I could have watched her better.” Sebastian’s miserable tones barely reached Bethany’s ears.

“And, I could have tied her to the bed in the estate and sent you all on without her. We’d of had about equal chances of succeeding. So, quit the self-sacrifice routine and get some sleep.” He started walking away and then turned back, “Go, set up your bedroll now, we’ll wait.”

Sebastian hesitated another second before he pulled his bedroll out of his pack and hastily set it up. He must have realized Anders wasn’t planning on moving until he was tucked into it. Once Sebastian was finally curled up in his bedroll Anders carried Sekhmet back to hers. 

He didn’t even try to crawl into his this time. He set Sekhmet down on hers, unfolding it and pushing it together with his to make a slightly bigger bedroll they could share. He lay down next to her, curling around her and covering them both up.

It was several seconds later and Bethany, still confused as to how Anders had known to wake up when he did, was about to return to reading her book when Anders’ voice called out again. “Sebastian, if you’re still awake the next time I wake up, I’ll put you to sleep, understood?”

Sebastian didn’t answer right away and Anders prompted him again, “Understood?”

“He will, Choir Boy, I’ve seen him do it before to someone he's a lot more afraid of than you.” Varric’s voice called out from behind Bethany.

“Understood,” Sebastian grumbled.

Anders nestled more closely against Sekhmet, magic radiating from his hand as he skimmed it over Sekhmet’s abdomen. It seemed the baby must be fine as he seemed to relax a bit. He traced his hand over as much of Sekhmet’s body as he could reach without disturbing her, magic gliding over her skin. He audibly signed when he seemed to find everything in order.

Bethany watched him begin to settle down when she heard Fenris speak for the first time since she’d see them on this trip. “Anders?” His voice was softer than she remembered and sounded very unsure, very unlike the Fenris she’d known.

Anders sat back up, eyes wary as he looked at Fenris. “Yes?” There were several beats of silence. Exasperated, Anders glared at Fenris, “Did you want something or can I try to get back to sleep now?”

She waited for Fenris to react with anger at Anders’ tone, but his voice remained quiet and unsure. “Could you take another look at Isabela?”

“What’s the matter, afraid the three of us mages are all murderous blood mages?” Anders sneered.

“No, but the three of you were tired and if you’re checking Hawke I thought it might be prudent to check Isabela as well.” Again, his voice was soft, but this time it was almost placating.

“I could check her if you like,” Bethany hoped to diffuse any tension by saving Anders the hassle. Asking Anders was probably hard enough for Fenris, let alone trying to play nice with the man. Fenris and Anders had never had much other than contempt for each other.

“No disrespect, Bethany, but I’d feel better if Anders checked her.” Fenris’ face was enough for her not to be insulted by his declination of her offer.

Anders studied him for a few more seconds, looking slightly perplexed before he slipped from the bedrolls he shared with Sekhmet and padded over to where Isabela lay still sleeping. He crouched down and let his magic slide over her, it cast sapphire hued shadows around the cavern. Anders, ever careful, took his time and thoroughly examined her.

“Her body is just exhausted from the healing. Other than extreme fatigue there’s nothing wrong with her, you have my word.” He looked up at Fenris, “Whether she was a fast healer or a slow one I would not expect her awake by now. In fact, it might be a couple of days before she wakes. 

“She’s strong Fenris, but injuries like she sustained drain the body’s resources when they’re healed with the aid of magic. She needs to rest and replenish them.” He took a slow breath and scrubbed his hand down over his very tired looking face, “You should get some rest as well. When she and Sekhmet wake we're going to need you at full strength as well as fully alert to get them home safely. 

“There are enough of us here that we can watch in shifts. You know everyone besides Nathaniel enough to know you can trust us to keep an eye on her and the camp while you sleep. And, I'm sure Bethany will vouch for Nathaniel if you don't want to take my word for it."

“You can trust him, Fenris.” She responded without prompting from the elf.

He nodded but made no move to go rest. 

Anders sighed heavily as he stood up. “You’re all bloody idiots. Who knows how long they’re going to be unconscious? They could wake up in a few hours or a few days.” He walked slowly, but stiffly back to Sekhmet and started getting settled in. “If you want to be exhausted when they wake up it’s none of my business.” 

He paused, half tucked inside the overlapping bedrolls, “But, if Sekhmet or my child are injured in any way by your foolishness I’ll kill you myself.” He glared at Fenris, “And, I think we all know there’s nothing here that could stop me.”

Fenris watched Anders for a few moments then moved, turning to his pack and unhooking his bedroll from the bottom of it.

“Good choice,” Anders said tersely before lying back down and curling back around Sekhmet.

Bethany wondered what had happened since she’d been gone that even Fenris seemed leery of a threat from Anders now. He’d never backed down from Anders before in her experience. She watched Fenris lay out his bedroll close to Isabela and climb into it. 

He looked up and caught her watching him. “If something changes, you’ll wake me?” He asked quietly.

She nodded and he lay down, immediately closing his eyes. He fell asleep before too long, leaving Sebastian as the last holdout. She turned her gaze to Nathaniel briefly, or at least the last holdout Anders had warned to get sleep.

She moved and sat down beside Nathaniel, who returned to sitting on his bedroll some time before hand. He was doing…something with his bow. Unfortunately, she didn’t know enough about bows or their care to know exactly what he was doing, but it looked like he might be polishing the wood. “How well did you know him?”

There was a slight tightening along Nathaniel’s jaw, but he sighed softly. “It’s a difficult question with no straight forward answer.”

“We’re you friends?” She pushed.

“Not friends exactly, comrades in arms.” He’d paused his work on the bow and looked to where Anders was curled up with Sekhmet.

“Yet, he seems comfortable and almost affectionate with you.”

Nathaniel pressed his lips together in a thin line for several long seconds. “We were left behind to run the Keep when the Commander and Lieutenant left.” A slight smile touched his lips, “We were all like children trying to learn how to be adults without the benefit of learning from our parents. We helped each other through it until…”

“Until?” She pressed.

He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve answered your question.” His eyes moved across their camp and settled on Sebastian. He didn’t raise his voice, but in such a small area he didn’t need to. “I’m not sure who it is that Varric saw Anders put to sleep, but if you think he wouldn’t do it to you think again. He put the Hero of Ferelden to sleep when she wouldn’t rest, but needed it.”

Bethany was surprised Nathaniel had openly mentioned the Hero of Ferelden, and without prompting even. “You do need the rest, Sebastian. Frankly, I have no idea how you’re still conscious after the trauma your body endured.”

Sebastian rolled over and looked at the two of them. “Every time I close my eyes I see her laying there battered and bloody. I should have paid better attention, kept a closer eye on her.”

Nathaniel nodded, “If she was your responsibility you’re right, you should have kept a better eye on her, all the more reason to get rested so you’re ready to do it right when she needs you again.”

Bethany was about to argue that it wasn’t Sebastian’s responsibility, but the sharp look from Nathaniel stilled her tongue. Instead, she echoed Nathaniel, “Get some rest, she’ll need you rested and ready when she wakes up.”

Sebastian sighed and lay back down, but Bethany doubted he was going to be doing much resting. Nathaniel lowered his voice and asked in a hushed whisper, “What do you know of him?”

She shook her head, “Only met him briefly before joining.”

“I hope he’s not foolish enough to cross Anders. Curled up in that bedroll is everything Anders has ever wanted. I’d pity anyone foolish enough to try to take it from him.” He turned his attention back to his bow.


	83. Echoes

Beth watched Sebastian; he lay still for maybe an hour before he was up again. He paced and worried the nails of his fingers, always careful to arc wide away from Sekhmet and Anders, and being quiet on his feet. Beth wondered if she should try to engage the man again, get him to try to rest some more.

Nathaniel was watching Sebastian pace with distrusting eyes. “You should rest, or barring that at least quit pacing. You’ll make it more difficult for our look-outs to sense enemies.” 

Sebastian looked at Nathaniel a moment, lips parted as if he would speak, but instead he moved back to his bedroll and sat back down. Beth thought that was a wise decision. Nathaniel was mostly an even tempered man, but she couldn’t have been the only one who noticed he was rather protective of Anders, and by extension Sekhmet.

Sebastian sat still on his bedroll, eyes staring mostly into the fire, but stealing again and again to where Sekhmet and Anders slept. Nathaniel’s attention appeared to return to his boots which he had removed and was cleaning and oiling, but Bethany knew by the tense set of his shoulders he was still watching Sebastian. Nathaniel didn’t seem to relax, and even then only marginally, until Sebastian dozed off still sitting up. 

He turned to Beth, “Go relieve the dwarf, he needs rest. Keep your wits about you, there’s unrest in this group.” He furrowed his brow, “Why would Anders travel with so many he did not trust?”

“They’re not that bad, Nathaniel.”

“Perhaps when you travelled with them, but there is deep discord amongst them now. More than one of them wants Anders dead, that’s easy to see.” He shifted his weight and pulled out a small knife and whet stone. “Your sister may hold them in check, but it’s a tenuous thing. She lacks Sareyna’s ability to help people see their commonalities. They came only for her, not for a cause or each other.” 

He shook his head, “Dangerous to have everything hinge on a single lynch pin.” He gestured with the whet stone towards Sebastian, “That one is nearly a mad man now, even knowing she will recover.” He looked back to Bethany and lowered his voice a fraction even though he’d already been speaking in a near whisper. “We need to get away from them as soon as we hit the surface.”

He was her commander, and she would do as he bade her whether she liked it or not. She merely nodded and went to relieve Varric. Varric acquiesced easily. There were dark circles under his eyes and he was starting to look a little wan. He stood up, swaying a little before moving to set up his bedroll.

Merrill looked at her nervously as she sat down, “Hi, Bethany.”

She gave the elf a small smile trying to set her at ease. “Hello Merrill, nice to see you.”

Merrill nodded, “And you. We’ve all missed you.”

“That’s sweet of you. Are you still living in the Alienage?”

“Yes, Templars don’t look too hard in the Alienage. It is lonely sometimes, but relatively safe.”

“I figured Sekhmet would have kept you pretty busy.”

Merrill’s brow furrow and she frowned deeply, “Your sister and I don’t keep much company anymore.”

“Oh, did something happen?”

Merrill’s pretty features distorted in an odd way and it took Bethany a moment to realize the elf was angry. “Yes,” she sighed and her shoulders slumped, “best not to dwell on it though. Varric said you might need help so I came to make sure you were okay.”

Beth smiled, “Thank you Merrill, I appreciate that. I wouldn’t have survived much longer if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

Merrill tugged on a lock of her hair. “I tried to save Sekhmet, I really did.” The poor girl looked terrified. “Anders told me no blood magic or he couldn’t guarantee my safety, but I almost did it anyway. Maybe I should have, I might have done better if I had.”

Beth shook her head, “You did well Merrill. And, promise me no blood magic until Nathaniel and I are gone.”

Merrill looked at her uncertainly.

“Promise me Merrill, please.”

“Okay, I promise. Are you mad at me?”

“No, not at all, Anders was right, you saved them. No one’s angry.”

Merrill seemed to relax at that finally and the two women fell into an easy conversation about magic. Merrill was eager to hear about all Bethany had learned and Bethany was eager to press Merrill for information about Elven magic schools she’d read about. It was a nice way to pass the time.

Bethany periodically looked back and saw Sebastian alternately asleep or awake, though never asleep for very long. Nathaniel kept watching him and keeping himself busy with small tasks. Other than the tension from Nathaniel and Sebastian’s disjointed sleep the day seemed to be slipping by fairly quickly. 

She and Merrill had slipped into a lull in their conversation and a hush had fallen over the Deep Roads where they were camped. Even under all this rock and mostly in the dark Bethany knew enough to enjoy a moment of rest and quiet she could get. The Wardens lived a grueling life, but it made you appreciate the small mercies of life much more.

The relative peace of the moment was shattered in spectacular fashion. An inhuman scream ripped from Anders’ lips and lightening cracked in the cavern. Bethany was on her feet, fire licking up her hands in a blink. She looked around the cavern and saw that all the others, besides Anders, Sekhmet, and Isabela were also on their feet and ready for a fight.

Anders started to shout again and jerked awake. He fist was clenched and sparks were lighting off his hair as well as across his knuckles. He was breathing fast and sweat was beaded all over his face.

He took a slow deep breath and the sparks slowly faded away. “Sorry, bit of a bad dream.” He shifted to his knees and lit a wisp above Sekhmet’s still sleeping form. He was checking her over carefully and it took Bethany a moment to realize Anders was afraid he’d burned Sekhmet.

“Are you all right, Anders?” She called out as she let the flames in her hand die out.

He looked towards her sheepishly. “Never did get the hang of sleeping in the Deep Roads. Using that much magic left me little choice, though. I apologize for startling you.”

He sat back down and let his wisp die out. She couldn’t see him anymore, but the smell of smoke and ozone lingered in the air. There were a few minutes of shuffling around after everyone settled back down from their scare, but the stillness of the Deep Roads stole back over them quickly.

Bethany glanced around the camp, surprised with just how fast everything seemed to be returning to normal. How such a violent episode could be seemingly so quickly forgotten. Even amongst the the Wardens it would have taken them longer to settle back down.

Had it always been so, she wondered? If she had stayed would this have seemed normal to her as well? As an outsider she found it rather eerie. The thought jarred her, she was an outsider now. The people familiar, but the group alien.

Fenris stood and walked to where she was sitting still with Merrill. “Go, rest.”

Merrill quickly scrambled away without a word. Bethany watched her go feeling a pang of regret. She’d liked Merrill and it broke her heart to see how alone she’d become since she’d joined the Wardens. It seemed most of her travelling companions could barely be decent to her.

Fenris was always terse, but Beth couldn’t help but think he should try to be more patient with Merrill. The girl was skittish and he knew it. After all, she’d helped save Isabela. In fact, Bethany thought they could all be nicer to Merrill.

She was surprised when Fenris spoke to her. She’d expected they would sit mostly in silence. Fenris had never spoken to her, or anyone much that she remembered.

“Were you glad to see you sister?” His voice was quiet, but his deep tones carried to her ears easily.

“There’s always a pang at first seeing her, but ultimately yes I was glad.”

“Would you have been as glad if you hadn’t been in immediate need of saving?” He was watching her closely.

She smiled, it was a fair question. “Yes, I believe so.”

“But, you’re not sure?” 

“She’s family, we have our differences and it’s not always easy but I love her.” 

Fenris gave a faint nod and fell silent. Bethany didn’t pick up the conversation as she would have done with the others. She wondered what his life had been like over the years since she’d joined the Wardens.

Fenris had been running when they’d met, and she wondered that he’d stayed in Kirkwall. She could understand the desire to put down roots and build a home. It had been what she’d hoped for when she came to Kirkwall, and why shouldn’t he have it just because that chance had been denied her?

********

“I’ve learned to write, or I’m learning at least.”

Bethany jumped a little at the sound of Fenris’ voice. He’d been silent for hours and completely startled her. He chuckled at her reaction.

“It’s not funny.” But she was pleased to hear him laugh. The Fenris she’d known wasn’t given to laughter often at all.

“From where I’m sitting, it was quite amusing. We’re meant to be on watch, on alert and ready for anything, not jumping at the smallest noises.” He was teasing her rather than lecturing, which was nice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to talk.” She was trying not to sound indignant, to be good-natured about his teasing. It was a side of him she didn’t know very well. And, as tense as he’d been since Isabela was injured she was sure he could use the laugh.

“Ah, I wasn’t aware I was supposed to be a mute. Next time you’ll have to tell me if I’m expected to play mute.”

“It’s good to hear you laugh, even if it’s at my expense.”

He sighed a little, “Perhaps not the best time for it.”

“No, I think a little levity in a stressful time is very appropriate. Does one good to lift the spirits some. I’m glad to hear you’re writing now.”

He shrugged a little awkwardly and Bethany had the feeling they wouldn’t even be having this discussion if she could see him clearly. “My writing’s barely legible, or so I’m told. Still, I was wondering if you would give me permission to write to you. For practice, of course. There are only so many exercises on can do before going mad and needing some other way to practice.”

“That would be very nice, thank you.” It actually was quite nice to get letters in the Wardens. It didn’t matter that they often took ages to get to her due to travelling. It reminded her that the Wardens weren't all there was in the world.

He nodded and fell silent again. She briefly wondered what on Thedas he’d write in his letters. But, maybe he was a man who found it easier to talk when he wasn’t face to face with someone.

At the very least it had to be easier writing something that wouldn’t be critiqued in front of you. She’d hated her writing lessons. Her father had been meticulous in that respect of her education. He’d made her repeat her lessons again and again until her letters were to his exacting requirements.

He’d lectured all three of his children on the necessity of being able to communicate effectively both verbally as well as with the written word. He’d never made them practice giving speeches or anything of that sort but he did demand they pronounce words correctly when they spoke. And, if they weren’t able he made them think of a synonym to use instead.

Still, as frustrating as those lessons were for her she was glad of them. Her father had been a loving man and had loved the three of his children, even if he showed that love to them differently. She often wondered what he would have thought about her becoming a Warden.

And, if he’d known that was the route her life was going to take would he have spent more time teaching her magic? Were there more skills he would have taught her? Would he have confided to her that he knew blood magic?

There were a lot of things she didn’t know about her father, and never would. Since their escapade in the Vimmark mountains she’d questioned how well she’d really known her father. But, as many doubts as that trip created, ultimately once she was able to think clearly she’d realized one inescapable truth. 

Her father had loved his family dearly and would have done anything to protect them. And, while it wasn’t as good as having her father still in her life it was a soothing thought. Some people can live their whole life and not known they’ve been loved like that. In this, if nothing else, she and Sekhmet were equally blessed.

“Anders,” Nathaniel’s voice called out clearly from behind them. They both turned to look to see what had happened. Bethany couldn’t see anything, but Fenris was on his feet jogging across the cavern. “Stay back, Anders needs to see her first.” 

Fenris paused, clearly torn as Anders knelt beside Isabela. Bethany walked over and lit a wisp so Anders wouldn’t waste his magic in case he needed it for Isabela for some reason. 

Anders magic scanned over Isabela’s prone form. “Izzy, can you hear me?”

She groaned but didn’t articulate in the affirmative of the negative. 

“I need you to open your eyes if you can hear me.” Anders prompted.

Isabela opened her eyes slowly, they were rimmed with crust. She blinked slowly a couple of times and then stretched languidly like a cat, tangled hair dragging across her bedroll.

“Lie still, Izzy. Let me take a look at you.”

She looked up at him and immediately smirked, “Look all you want, Anders.”

Anders rolled his eyes, “Clearly, you’re well,” but he checked her over nonetheless making her flex and point all her appendages. He made sure she hadn’t lost any feeling and was able to hold things in her hands. She wanted to stand, but he told her she could only sit up, and only if she did that slowly. Carefully, he helped her sit up. It took a couple of tries but she was able to stay sitting unassisted.

“I feel so weak. Never felt so weak before.”

“It’ll go quickly.” He stood when he’d finished his exam. “Get her some food and water.” 

Fenris immediately brought Isabela water and helped her to drink some.

“Not too fast, she hadn’t eaten or drank in a couple days. It’ll make her sick if she drinks too much.” Anders admonished as he settled back down beside Sekhmet and checked her over again. When his magic faded he reached out and touched her hair gently moving it off her face. He closed his eyes and his lips moved, but Bethany couldn’t hear him speaking from where she was.

She looked to Nathaniel who had been watching silently beside her, “Do you think she’ll wake soon?”

“I hope so, Anders looks a little more drawn by the hour. He needs to get out of the Deep Roads soon.” His eyes moved around the corridor momentarily alighting on each of their current travelling companions, pausing the longest, as always, on Sebastian. “Perhaps we should try to carry her to the surface. I do not like the prospect of being trapped down here with two madmen.”

“They’re not that bad.” 

Nathaniel scoffed, “Anders is afraid to sleep for fear of the dreams, and though he is no stranger to lack of sleep his worry for your sister is making him irrational. As for the other, he refuses to sleep and clearly has no experience of it. He doesn’t understand how it distorts the world and makes things that are not real appear as though they are.” 

He shifted, “and between Anders and the elf they are like a parched forest and a campfire. Any moment a conflagration will spark and burn us all to cinders.” He sighed, “Sit with Anders, calm him, try to talk him into at least resting even if he doesn’t sleep. I’ll light a fire and make a meal.” He stood and walked away.

Beth didn’t want to talk with Anders. She had no idea what to say to him and she was furious with him for not finding a way to make Sekhmet stay home. But, Nathaniel was right, the man was on edge and she knew exactly how dangerous that was so she went to him.

He smiled a little when he saw her sitting down next to him. “Sent you to distract me, did he?”

A wan smile was all she could manage, “He’s worried for you.”

Anders chuckled, “You mean, he’s worried for the rest of you.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly a few times. “I’m sorry, Beth.”

She shook her head, “You’re tired and under a lot of stress.”

“I keep fearing I’ve missed something.”

“Would you like me to take a look?” She asked gently, hoping he wouldn’t take her as him questioning his skills.

“Please,” he moved to give Beth better access, “at best I get reassurance I didn’t miss anything and at worst we catch something and can fix it.”

Bethany thoroughly checked Sekhmet out from head to toe and then back again just to be sure. She even paused and did a complete check of the baby, unable to stop the smile that touched her lips. When she had finished she rested back on her heels still smiling.

“I take it the news is good?” 

She nodded, “Yes, everything appears to be fine. Even…” a feeling of awe washed over her “my nephew”.

Anders smiled, “I wondered what the smile was for. So, you’re happy to be an auntie?”

“I thought we were going to be the last.” On a whim she hugged Anders, “You’re going to be a father!” She gushed into his ear. The realization had just struck her. “You’re going to be a marvelous father, Anders.”

“You think so?” His voice trembled a little as he said it.

She released the hug and sat on her heels hands gripping his upper arms. “I know you will.”

Anders closed his eyes for a moment and hitched in a breath before opening his eyes, shining slightly. “That means a lot to me to hear you say that, Beth.”

She smiled, releasing his arms. “Then, I’m glad. And, I will visit often and spoil it rotten.”

“I know we’d both love that.” He took a breath and sat back. “Where are you stationed now?”

“Once we get out of her I’ll be officially stationed at Vigil’s Keep.”

Anders looked to Nathaniel then back to her, “Really?”

“What’s that look, you look uneasy.” She hadn’t even been to the Keep yet and Anders was making her nervous.

He shook his head, “Just, be careful of the commander there.”

She raised a brow surprised, she thought Anders liked Nathaniel. “Nathaniel? I’ve worked with him before we’ve never had a problem.”

“Not him, Caron.” His voice was tight and there was a distinct grimace on his face.

“Anders, Caron’s been dead for years and she died a hero.”

“A hero? What a shame.” He growled.

“What on Thedas did she do to you that you dislike her so much?”

He scoffed, “Dislike? I hated her, loathed her. Let’s just say I left the Wardens because of her.”

“What could she have possibly done to make you leave? You never talk about that part of the Wardens, not even in your letters.” She’d always wondered what had made him leave, but Anders only talked to her about his time with the Hero of Ferelden.

“Aren’t you meant to be keeping me calm?” He smirked.

She sighed, perhaps he’d never tell her. But, he was right, she was supposed to be helping him relax. She thought for a moment, “Didn’t you say once that you knew someone who was from the Legion of the Dead? A girl, I think you said.”

Anders nodded a little and a small smile touched his lips. “Yes, Sigrun.” 

“Tell me about her. What was she like?”

Anders began to talk and gradually as he did he seemed to relax some. Sigrun didn’t sound like any dwarf Beth had ever met. She was tough, that was expected but she was perky, funny, and very sassy. Anders had a great affection for the dwarf.

Her fascination of mages and magic had clearly amused Anders even while he professed his annoyance. “You’re probably going to get to meet her. She was stationed at the Vigil when I…left.” He closed his eyes and sighed softly, “I think you’re going to like the Vigil. And, with Nathaniel acting as commander there hopefully it can be as much of a home to you as it was for me at first.”

He paused for a moment and glanced at Sekhmet, “And, you’ll always have a home with us, as well, whether you want it or not.”

“I know, Anders. Thank you.”

“She’ll wake soon.” His voice was almost a whisper.

“I’m sure she will.” In truth, Bethany wasn’t so sure anymore. Anders obvious anxiety had her worried.

He sighed, “I’ll have to make her swallow some broth today. Her body and the baby need some nourishment.”

“You can do that?” Bethany had never heard of such a thing with someone who was unconscious.

Anders nodded, “I’m rather adept at it, unfortunately, I’ve had too much experience with it.”

“Is there something I can do to help, Anders?” She wanted very much to help him, to try to take some of the burden off the man. But, what could she do? They were all just waiting.

“No Beth, there’s not really anything to do.” He looked at her with a forced smile, “Unless you can get Sebastian to sleep for more than an hour or so.”

She smiled back, “I could always put him to sleep.”

Anders glanced at the archer again. “Yes, but then we’d have to listen to him whine to your sister when she wakes up.” 

“Nathaniel’s worried he’s dangerous.” Beth confided.

“For now he’s harmless, he’s only hurting himself. If he becomes dangerous one of us will put him to sleep.” He stretched and stood up. “I need to stretch my legs. Stay here and look after her for me for a bit?”

Bethany nodded and watched as Anders walked off into the dark. No one bothered to warn him off or follow after him. It was obvious he wanted to be alone, and was likely the most capable of all of them to take care of himself.

********

Several days had passed since that one and still Sekhmet hadn’t awakened. Anders force fed her each of her meals and Bethany watched over her when he wanted time to himself. She’d come to the conclusion that he was taking disappearing to let Justice come through for a while.

Inevitably, on his return he looked a little better, less haunted. It never lasted long, but Bethany remembered that on that first fateful trip to the Deep Roads Justice had helped Anders cope with the confinement. The only reason she could imagine for him hiding what he was doing now was Nathaniel. For some reason, Anders didn’t seem to want Nathaniel seeing him when Justice had control. 

Bethany wasn’t sure why that was, but had noticed the dynamics of their little group had changed since Isabela had awoken. The pirate had spent most of her time with Varric and Merrill while Fenris spent most of his time with Sebastian now. He hadn’t any success getting the man to sleep for longer than an hour or so either, but seemed to keep him out of the way at least.

Nathaniel still kept mostly to himself, he spoke to Bethany now and again, but mostly he watched everyone. Beth had urged him to speak to Anders. It was her hope that he would tell Anders he didn’t have to hide Justice, but never said as much.

Nathaniel just shook his head, “When the need arises I will.”

Beth had no idea what it would take for the man to feel like he needed to speak to Anders, and more than that she couldn’t understand his hesitance. She’d thought from their few conversations on the subject that Nathaniel liked Anders. So, why not ease the man’s burden?

They’d all been cooped up in the Deep Roads for too long. Bethany thought that maybe getting them out of the Deep Roads was a good idea. It wouldn’t be easy, but between them they should be able to carry Sekhmet to the surface.

Unfortunately, Anders had been worried about moving Sekhmet. He thought it would be too hard on her recovering body to replenish itself and take care of the child with them moving her. The position they were in now was fairly defensible, but what would happen were they to move and try to carry Sekhmet to the surface?

She knew Anders would be the last one to want to remain in the Deep Roads. So, if he said they should stay, they obviously should. Still, she didn’t like the idea.

She’d been sitting with Sekhmet for the last two hours while Anders had gone for another of his walks. She absently combed her fingers through Sekhmet’s hair, detangling it as best she could while her sister lay unconscious. Bethany thought over all she’d talked about with Anders these last few days.

She was looking forward to the Vigil, to meeting Sigrun, Whitney, and especially Shannon. Anders had told her a little about each of the Wardens he’d been stationed with that he thought might still be there. He’d warned her away from the elf Naveen, but he’d done it with an amused smile. Had recommended she train with Cearo if she could.

She now knew not to take Oghren’s crass manner personally. And she knew that the best person to learn about horses from was Skyla. Anders had been her own little Vigil’s Keep expert.

She hadn’t been able to get him to talk about Nathaniel though. He’d looked to his former comrade in arms and merely said, “He’s a good man and a damned good commander. Make sure you listen to him, Beth.” And then, he’d dropped the subject no matter how Beth tried to push him on it.

“Beth?” The word was spoken so quietly Bethany wasn’t sure she’d heard it.

She looked down and her sister’s eyes were open looking up at her. “Anders!” She yelled, “Anders, she’s awake!”

She stroked her sisters cheek. “Stay still, don’t move until Anders checks you over.”

Everyone was moving closer looking at the last of them to wake. Sebastian’s eyes were shining in deep, dark circles. His cheeks were covered with several days worth of beard growth. Fenris was holding him back so he didn’t get too close.

Anders footsteps were heard thundering down the corridor towards them. Sekhmet’s eyes were looking around groggy and confused at everyone staring at her. Even Nathaniel had stood up though he’d moved no closer.

“Back up, let me through.” Anders snapped. The group parted and he knelt beside them, immediately taking Sekhmet’s hand. His magic began to cascade over her, “Hello beautiful, I missed those eyes.”

“I was hurt?” Her eyes had stopped roaming over everyone and had fixed on Anders.

“Yes, but we healed you. You’re going to be fine.” His magic was focused over her abdomen now and he scowled. “You’re weak, we need to feed you and build your strength back up.”

Bethany stood, “I’ll make something.” She didn’t need to be in the middle of that strange tableau of them all standing over her. Sekhmet was fine and they’d be leaving soon.

A sentiment that was shared by Nathaniel apparently, he walked to her and spoke softly. “Now you know she’s well. She can walk out on her own. We really need to get going. We should have left days ago.”

She nodded, “Tomorrow, after we’ve eaten and rested. Thank you for staying.”

He nodded, “They needed you.” He gave her a small smile, “They’d have followed you if you’d asked.”

“They’re Sekhmet’s friends.”

“It seems a bit more complicated than that, but they would have followed you nonetheless.” He threw a handful of herbs into the pot she was filling, “It’s something to think about if you ever get tired of being a Warden.”

“Being a Warden is a lifelong calling, Nathaniel.” She responded, confused.

“For some of us.” He walked away and sat back down leaving her to ponder over his odd statements.

The others had drifted away from Sekhmet and Anders, all but for Sebastian. He knelt beside her talking rapidly and low. Bethany couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but she could guess.

Sekhmet touched his hand and murmured softly to him. He nodded, a tear running down his cheek. He kissed her hand then went to his bedroll and lay down. Bethany wasn’t surprised at all when he passed out a few moments later. She hoped that now he knew Sekhmet was all right he’d stay asleep for more than an hour.

Sekhmet was sitting up, eyes still slightly glazed. She looked to Bethany and gave her a small smile. Bethany was glad Sekhmet had finally awoken. Even in the few moments since she’d awakened the tension in the corridor had palpably decreased.

She didn’t know if they were relieved because Sekhmet was awake, or because Anders was obviously less tense. Or maybe, it was just relief that they would all be leaving the Deep Roads soon. Whatever it was Bethany was grateful.

She focused her attention back on cooking so that she could get Sekhmet fed and hopefully on her way to regaining her strength. She still looked wan. Beth had hoped they could stay until everyone returned to the surface, but she didn’t think her sister would be ready to move in the morning. It always seemed that the moment she realized she wanted to be with her sister was precisely the moment she had to leave.


	84. Light and Shadow

With Sekhmet awake Anders decided it was safe to move her at least a little bit. They were all grateful to move further away from the darkspawn corpses. Nathaniel found a section of the Deep Roads that widened out into a room of sorts. The far side had only a small door leading out of it.

Anders and Sebastian settled Sekhmet near the back of the room by the door so they could move her out of the room quickly if necessary. Anders barred the door with a spell to prevent any attacks from that direction. He wanted to spare them from spreading themselves too thinly on watch. The others quickly set up camp again as Sekhmet sat and watched them.

When they’d finished Bethany smiled and walked over to her sister as Sekhmet toyed with one of her throwing knives. “Thinking of throwing that at him when he comes back?”

Sekhmet’s head jerked up as if she hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone. Slowly, she smiled, “No, just checking how bad my dexterity and strength are. It feels heavier than it should.” Her gaze shifted to Isabela, “Thought has crossed my mind to throw it at her though. She’s up and around as if nothing happened while I malinger, too weak to be left unattended.”

“She’s not pregnant,” Bethany thought there was more to it than that, but she wasn’t about to say as much to her sister.

Sekhmet scowled for a moment but it was gone quickly, “I’m keeping you all stuck here. Poor Anders has to be crawling out of his skin.”

“Everyone understands the pregnancy is making your recovery slower than it would normally be.”

Sekhmet snorted, “Tell that to your Warden friend, he’s practically stamping his feet like a horse he’s so impatient to leave.”

“We haven’t been able to report in since he sent Temerin away. He’s worried we’ve been reported dead.” That was only a fraction of what had Nathaniel worried. He didn’t like the atmosphere between Sekhmet’s companions.

Sebastian and Anders spent most of their time tripping over each other in an effort to help Sekhmet and each time they did you could see the resentment growing. Fenris could pull Sebastian’s attention away for a short while, but it never lasted. Funnily enough, Isabela had the best luck wedging between Sekhmet and Sebastian.

Every time she made a lewd comment directed at the archer he’d scold her and stomp away, or at the very least fall silent. Sometimes it was hours before he spoke again. Bethany knew it wasn’t polite, but she took pleasure in watching Isabela unsettle the man.

Right now she was concentrating on how they were going to get Sekhmet well enough to leave the Deep Roads. Her sister vomited up almost everything she ate and slept restlessly. Nathaniel hadn’t forced her to leave yet, but it was clear he was becoming more restless every day.

Anders strode back into the light of their little camp and Bethany felt herself relax. Worrying about him seemed silly in light of what she’d seen of him fighting against the darkspawn and the profane in the past, but each time he left she was worried all the same. He knelt down by them quietly, nodding to Bethany before running his magic over Sekhmet.

He looked up to Bethany when he was done, “Dinner going to be ready soon?”

Varric responded for her, “Shortly.”

“Anders, I’m not hungry.” Sekhmet sighed and shifted on her bedroll.

“You’re going to eat. You have to. We all have places to be and it isn’t in the Deep Roads so don’t argue with me.” He wasn’t angry, just very tired sounding.

“What’s the point, it’ll be vomited up like all the rest.” Sekhmet was sulking.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. Surprised, Bethany looked up at him. He gestured to move and she did quickly. He squatted down in front of Sekhmet who he hadn’t spoken to since she’d awoken.

“May I try something?” He asked softly.

Sekhmet looked to Anders who nodded. Bethany thought Nathaniel would be annoyed by such a gesture but he seemed amused. He was smiling and his grey eyes weren’t scowling for the first time in days.

“Let me see your arms please.” She held out her arms for Nathaniel and he took one in each hand placing his thumb a couple of inches below the inside of her wrist on each arm. He worked his thumbs slowly on circles on each forearm.

“When I was in the Free Marches there was a Rivaini woman in the town near where I was stationed. People lauded her for miracle cures, but she had no magic. What she had was herblore most never learned and a knowledge of points of energy in the body. 

“One of the men from the garrison I was trained in would become nauseas before battles or any kind of competition so he went to the Rivani woman looking for some brew. Instead, she taught him this. I sometimes helped him before competitions. I do not know it if works on the mind or the body, but it seemed to work for him. If we’re lucky, it will work for you as well.”

He crouched rubbing her forearms for several more minutes, but didn’t speak again until he’d finished. “There, that should do it. I hope it helps you as much as it did him.” He stood and strode away.

Varric brought her a bowl of stew and she tentatively ate it. Everyone else served themselves and anxiously watched Sekhmet. She ate more than they’d seen her eat since she’d awoken and instead of vomiting when she was done she claimed fatigue and slept.

Anders shook his head and looked at Nathaniel. “You’ve worked a damned miracle.”

Nathaniel snorted, “You should know better than to believe in miracles. It’s just an old Rivani woman’s trick.”

“Teach it to me.” Anders said eagerly walking to him holding his arm out.

Beth smiled and ate the rest of her stew watching Nathaniel and Anders talk quietly, occasionally laughing. It went on for hours while Sekhmet slept. She’d never known Nathaniel to talk so much and certainly had never known him to smile or laugh so much. He seemed like a different man, a younger, less burdened man. 

For that matter so did Anders. It was Anders as she’d never seen him, laughing, irreverent, he touched Nathaniel’s back and shoulder on several occasions. She almost wished her sister had been awake to see the transformation in Anders.

Varric walked over and stood next to Bethany. His voice was barely a whisper, “I sometimes forget Anders had a life before he came to Kirkwall.”

“He used to tell us stories at the Hanged Man.” She replied just as quietly.

“And, did you imagine Anders in any of them?” 

She shook her head; she’d never been able to reconcile the man from the tales with the Anders she knew.

“But this man, this man I could see in every one of those tales, couldn’t you Sunshine?”

“I could,” she whispered awed at the change in both men. Perhaps, there were always people one associated with one’s youth. If so it seemed the two men before her fulfilled that role for one another.

The two men talked and laughed for hours, a feat Bethany never would have imagined either man capable of. Nathaniel genuinely laughed and smiled, clapped Anders companionably on the back. She could see almost no trace of the serious, stern, and mostly silent man she knew.

Varric pulled out his quill and ink, “I think that old Rivaini woman might have woven a little magic after all.” He opened a book and nodded his head to Bethany. She lit a wisp for him and settled back down beside her sister.

She watched her sister sleep, watched Anders as he must have been as a younger man, and watched Varric as he tried to capture the scene in words. Poor dwarf, no words he could use would ever be able to convey the magic they were seeing in that dark cavern, not even ones written by a man as clever as Varric. 

As she watched them she realized a few things. The two men missed each other, not in a small way but in a profound manner. Secondly, the entire atmosphere of their little camp had changed. It was as if the laughter of the two men had cut through all the strain that had been building up for days.

Seeing the camaraderie between the two, she wondered again what the previous commander had done to Anders that had made him leave the Wardens. Clearly, from what she had seen and what she had heard from him he’d been happy in the Wardens once. He spoke of the other Wardens with fondness that had dissolved her own apprehension at being reassigned once again.

She watched as Anders touched his collar briefly and Nathaniel’s eyes shifted quickly away. A very awkward pause followed and stretched out longer and longer. Bethany wondered if the two men’s laughter and camaraderie were at an end. 

Anders touched Nathaniel’s shoulder and said something to him Bethany couldn’t hear. Nathaniel shook his head, laughing loudly. Nathaniel’s eyes slid over to where Sekhmet lay sleeping briefly and the two men kept talking, less laughter now, but plenty of smiles. Bethany assumed they must be speaking about Sekhmet and the child.

Sekhmet and the child…such a strange phrase. The idea of her sister as a mother had never really occurred to her. Maternal wasn’t a word she’d associate with Sekhmet, but Bethany was glad they were going to have a family. Anders was obviously very excited to be a father.

Maybe she would talk with him before they left about how Sekhmet had become pregnant. Maybe there was still some hope for her to have a family. On second thought, maybe she’d wait and write to him. It might be easier to ask all the questions she wanted to without having to look him in the eye.

*********

Since they’d found a way for Sekhmet to eat she’d finally started recovering from her injury. At least she was up and moving around. And, while Bethany still didn’t think Sekhmet was recovering as quickly as she should, certainly not as quickly as she had in the past, at least she was improving.

She still slept away the majority of each day, but when she was awake she made time for everyone. Some of the over-bright glitter left Sebastian’s eyes, Varric was less somber and tense, and even Fenris was less stiff. Bethany was surprised how the entire dynamic of the group changed with her sister recovering.

Nathaniel had been right; they were all here for her. It made Bethany consider his statement again that they would have followed her. What would that have been like? And, what would she have led them all to do?

Her sister seemed wrapped up in small jobs all over, but she could have used these amazing people to effect real change in the world. But, what change? Should they follow Anders’ charge to free mages? Or, try to right the plight of elves? There were too many noble causes to choose from.

She sighed; the Wardens were more than enough of a cause for her. The Maker had led her down this path for a reason, and whatever that reason, she needed to follow the path to the end. Her sister might have lost her faith, and Beth might stray from time to time, but deep down she was Andrastian and believed in the Maker.

“Where are you?”

Pulled from the stream of her thoughts she turned to Sekhmet, “Just musing about the path our lives have taken.”

“Like the way life keeps throwing us together?”

She hadn’t thought about that, “It does, doesn’t it?”

Sekhmet gave her a little self-deprecating smile, “You keep thinking you’re done with me but you keep getting dragged back.”

“You saved my life, Sekhmet.”

She nodded, “Perhaps, you seemed to be holding you own pretty damned well.”

“I was nearly exhausted,” she moved closer and laid her head on Sekhmet’s shoulder, “You were fast enough,” she whispered.

Sekhmet closed her eyes, and lowered her head. She squeezed Bethany’s hand, and a tear ran down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered back.

The two of them sat there for a long time. As much as Beth hadn’t wanted to be a Warden, and she wanted to settle down and have a family, she wouldn’t have changed places with Sekhmet if it meant having to face Sekhmet’s demons. Sekhmet still blamed herself for Papa, Carver, and even their mother. 

She was glad she hadn’t added to the pain that Sekhmet always lived with. In fact, as she’d been fighting the Darkspawn off alone she kept thinking she couldn’t leave Sekhmet alone. When she’d seen her sister coming to her rescue she’d been dazed for a moment, wondering if her thoughts had somehow summoned Sekhmet.

She’d been so relieved to see her, something she hadn’t felt about Sekhmet in ages. Her sister, like an avenging goddess, worked her way through the Darkspawn to Bethany. And, Beth had been overjoyed, until she’d realized Sekhmet was pregnant.

Before she’d had a chance to deal with that realization they were swept up in a new attack. Sekhmet had gone from saving Beth’s life to fighting for her own. And now, as she convalesced Bethany was set with the realization that Sekhmet was in the Deep Roads pregnant and injured because of her. The web that caught them both, that trapped them wouldn’t let go.

Not that she wasn’t grateful, she was immensely so. Sekhmet really had saved her life, she just wished her sister hadn’t come looking for her in her present state. Even as a mother, Sekhmet couldn’t let go of being a big sister. It awed Bethany, and frightened her a little.

What kind of mother would Sekhmet be? Would she pass along her zealous dislike for Templars? Would she pass on the bloodlust she reveled in on occasion? 

She knew Sekhmet had it in her to be a good mother. She loved deeply and was fiercely protective, but she also had a darkness in her, a near madness at times. They’d always downplayed or ignored the darkness that had bloomed in Sekhmet after papa died, but how would a child understand it?

Maybe they should have tried harder to steer Sekhmet away from the darkness, but none of them knew how to handle her. Bethany had hoped love would have chased away the dark. She glanced over to Anders, talking with Nathaniel again. He certainly seemed lighter, and less intense than she remembered him. Maybe love had managed the same feat with Sekhmet.

“He seems less eager to leave these last few days.”

Beth nodded, “It’s the change in Anders. I think Anders reminds him of a happier time.”

“I’d thought he was so serious and somber.”

Beth looked at Sekhmet with a smile, “He usually is.”

“Then, perhaps I can feel a little less guilty about stranding you all down here. I haven’t seen Anders this full of smiles or irreverent since before…” her voice petered away and she looked away.

Bethany didn’t say anything, she could guess what Sekhmet had meant, or get close there were several moments she could think of that might have finished that sentence. Instead, she leaned against Sekhmet’s shoulder, “Any names picked out, yet?”

Sekhmet shifted and looked at her with a smile that wasn’t completely genuine. “Not yet, we haven’t really talked about it.”

“I’d think you’d be talking about it all the time.” Beth pushed hesitantly, a bit surprised.

Sekhmet rubbed her arm a little and shrugged. “I think we’re still in awe it happened at all and don’t want to risk bad luck.”

Interesting, seemed Sebastian understood Sekhmet better than she’d thought. Her sister was worried about losing the child. Of course, if she was pulling stunts like running into the Deep Roads pregnant it was no surprise she was worried. She reached out and took Sekhmet’s hand, “Promise me when we leave here you’ll stay out of danger until after the baby is born. Give me at least a few months where I don’t have to worry about you or the child?”

Sekhmet smiled, a more genuine one this time, “Should be easy. Once I get back to the estate I just want soft furniture, warm baths, and books.”

Bethany snorted and released her hand, “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I haven’t taken a job in a while. I’m only here because I was worried you might have been in trouble.” She looked at Anders for a moment, “He didn’t want me taking any jobs, and the nausea has been worse than I anticipated.”

Beth nodded, “You’ve lost weight.”

“Nothing Anders or I tried made it go away. I could barely choke down anything and even when I could it never stayed down for long.” She smiled a little, “And, it seems it’s impossible for me to make anything easy on Anders. I’ve been obstinate and difficult every step of the way.”

Beth chuckled, “Poor man’s probably been tearing his hair out trying to get you to slow down.”

She nodded, “Not sure who’s getting the worst of it, Anders or Bodhan. That poor dwarf bit off so much more than he imagined moving into that house. He’s basically stuck being the sole parent to a house full of misfits.”

“And he’s stayed, willingly?” Beth teased.

Sekhmet grinned, “Must be a glutton for punishment. I imagine he’s going to be doing a lot of hand holding for us the first few months as parents. Honestly, I don’t know what any of us would do without that man. He keeps everything running smoothly while Anders and I are busy running around like madmen.”

“Anders always writes about him quite fondly, too. You guys are very lucky.”

“We are,” She sighed a little. “I’m sorry; it must be hard to listen to me prattle on about these things. I know how much you wanted this kind of life for yourself. I’m sorry…for everything.”

Beth shook her head. “I’m excited to be an aunt, and if I’m stationed in Vigil’s Keep for more than a couple of months perhaps I can make trips to visit.”

“That would be wonderful. We’d love to have you.” Her gaze moved back to Anders and Nathaniel. “Who knows, maybe you’ll even bring your commander along with you.”

She tried not to react but Sekhmet giggled. “Shh,” Beth warned.

Sekhmet leaned close, “If he’s anything like Anders, you should make sure he knows now how you feel about him. That way, you might have a chance to tear his walls down before you’re old and grey.” She glanced at Nathaniel again, but kept her voice at a whisper, “He has haunted eyes, Beth. He’ll not be an easy man to love.”

Beth smiled, “I think it’s a little early for…”

“I mean it Beth, you get entangled with that man and it’ll be salvation and damnation all at once and he’ll fight you every step of the way.” She softened into a smile, “But, falling for difficult men seems to be a specialty of the women in our family.”

“You haven’t even really spoken with him, Sekhmet.” Bethany protested.

“Don’t have to, I’ve watched him plenty since I’ve been awake, and he’s been close enough for me to see his eyes, granted took me a while to read them with that strange grey of his, but that man’s had his heart crushed. Not broken, I’d wager it was far worse. Anders wasn’t afraid of love, only that he might hurt someone. The man you’re set on is afraid of love.” She smiled a little, “But, he certainly likes your body.”

“What?” Surprise made Bethany’s voice sharp.

Sekhmet stayed silent for several minutes blessedly waiting until everyone’s attention had drifted away from the two of them again after Beth’s outburst . She leaned close to Beth and whispered in her ear. “Every time you give him a chance to look down your top at your tits he takes it, and doesn’t feel guilty about it either.”

Bethany felt herself flush, looked at the floor and covered her mouth.

Sekhmet giggled, “So, you are doing it on purpose.”

“What? No, I…no, I’m not.” She was aggravated with herself for stammering and for not being able to control her blush.

Sekhmet shrugged a little, “Nothing to me if you are. It’s your body Beth, do with it as you will. The part of you I worry about is your heart. Make sure he’s worthy before you hand it over.”

“I told you I barely know him.” She murmured.

Her sister sighed softly. “Mother barely knew Father. I barely knew Anders.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sekhmet.” She shifted away a bit.

Sekhmet nodded, “That’s all right, Beth. I’m tired.” She lay down in her bedroll and was asleep in moments. 

It was only a few minutes before Anders was standing and walking across the cavern and settling down next to Sekhmet. “Go on, I’ll stay with her.”

Beth smirked, “Even when I think you’re not paying attention you are.”

Anders didn’t say a word. The smile had slipped from his lips and he merely gave a small nod. He seemed to want to be alone so she stood and left him alone with Sekhmet.

She went to Nathaniel and took up Anders’ spot. “Have a disagreement did you?”

Nathaniel’s eyes still seemed lighter than before Anders and he had begun speaking. “Not at all. Something troubles him but he doesn’t feel at ease to speak of it with me.”

“Well, if not with you then who?” 

“I’ve never been privy to Anders’ secrets.” He answered not unkindly.

“Except the ones you share.” She retorted not really meaning to.

Nathaniel nodded, “True.” He stood, and stretched, and walked over to the fire. He stood there and stared into the flames.

Beth left him alone. She wondered if she should bother going to speak with anyone else. She’s already been effectively given the brush off by three of their merry band. She wasn’t sure her ego could take another. 

She took a breath and raised her voice a little. “Anders, I need a book. I’ve read all mine. I know you or Sekhmet wouldn’t leave the estate without one.”

He looked up with a slight smile. “Come, I have a few in my pack. You can take your pick.”

She sighed with relief when she found they weren’t all dry academic tomes. She went to slide the book from his pack when she saw a slender black book. She pulled it out to check what it was, but Anders quickly pulled it from her fingers. “Nothing to read in here.”

“What is it?” She was curious now, more so by him tearing it from her fingers than by the book itself.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” He snapped.

A gravelly chuckle came from behind her. “Come now Anders, can you blame the girl’s curiosity when you grabbed at it like that?”

“Stay out of it, Nathaniel.” Anders replied a bit more calmly this time.

Nathaniel nodded, “Kind of glad to see you still carry one of those with you.” He turned back to the fire without another word.

“Did you get a book to read?” Anders asked, not angry but clearly tense.

She pulled out the book she’d been originally reaching for and tried to content herself without knowing what the book was that Anders had snatched from her fingers. She retreated back to her bedroll feeling a little emotionally battered. She opened the book and started reading it, tuning the others out.

********

“Anders,” Nathaniel’s voice rang out as he quickly stood up.

“I feel them,” a sapphire blue sphere already encircled Sekhmet, who was still fast asleep. “Arm yourselves,” he barked.

Bethany was on her feet as were the rest of their former companions and quashing a small flair of irritation and confusion that when faced with incoming darkspawn, what else could it be, Nathaniel had called for Anders rather than her. She looked around at the others; each pulled their weapons looking at each other in confusion. Nathaniel lit an arrow in the fire and shot it down the passageway.

“Shit.” He whispered it, but Bethany heard it clear enough.

“It’s really as many as it feels like.” Anders turned and looked to Fenris, “You and Isabela guard her with your lives. If harm comes to her…”

Fenris waived him off, “Save your threats mage.” He moved to stand beside Sekhmet’s sleeping form.

Sebastian watched as Isabela joined him, “Anders, I can watch her.”

“No, you’re going to help the rest of us thin their numbers.” He strode to stand beside Nathaniel. “Like Eoghan?”

Nathaniel nodded.

Bethany, more confused now, moved beside them and watched as Anders cast grease a long way down either side of the passage and then lit them up with fire. She quailed at what she saw, a huge mass of undulating black bodies moving towards them. Anders let another spell fly, lightning this time.

The passage filled with the sounds of screaming which finally stirred everyone to action. Three mages and three archers stood abreast and fired down the passage. And while Bethany remembered most of her former companions being quite loud on the battlefield, the only sounds now were spells, arrows, and darkspawn screams.

“Is there no end to them?” Sebastian asked, his voice shaking a little.

“I’ve never seen a pocket of them this big before,” Beth said wondering if the mages could hold out since the archers were running low on arrows and bolts.

“I have,” both Anders and Nathaniel said it at the same time; they both looked a touch unsettled.

As firestorms raged and lightning crackled down the corridor it seemed they were barely whittling away at the large number of darkspawn. Each arrow and bolt that flew found its mark, and still it seemed not to matter. They were only drops in the endless sea coming towards them.

“Isabela, tie that sash around your mouth and nose. We’re going to need you.” Anders laid down fresh grease and fire.

“She can’t, she’s still recovering.” Fenris growled.

“I’m fine.”

Anders shook his head, “No, he’s right.” He looked around at the others, Beth knew what he saw. They were low on projectiles and she and Merrill were both looking tired.

Merrill whispered, voice shaking. “Anders, I could…”

“No,” he snarled.

“We’re running out of options,’’ Varric chimed in.

“I said no.”

Varric nodded, “Only one option left then.” 

Anders cringed and closed his eyes; he clearly didn’t want to hear this.

“You have to, Blondie.” It was barely a whisper from Varric.

Bethany nodded, “I’m sorry, he’s right.” Bethany looked to Nathaniel to see what kind of response he was having to the conversation. His jaw was tight and he looked straight ahead as he continued to fire his arrows. He must have realized that one of them was a blood mage from the conversation. She hoped he knew it wasn’t Anders.

Anders sighed, “All right, quickly grab anything flammable and everyone get behind Sekhmet.”

“Anders, what are you…”

“Please, just do what I ask Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel followed the others and Anders waited for them to gather the burnable equipment, checking back and forth between the darkspawn and the group in the cavern. He cast chain lighting spells every few moments, slowing the darkspawn down and thinning their numbers. Once they were all standing behind Sekhmet with the quickly collected gear Anders cast another spell, this time a barrier encircling them all. With it in place he turned and started down the passage. 

“Wait, Anders there’s too many.” He turned to Varric, “He’s going to get himself killed.”

“He won’t.” Varric said quietly, though he didn’t look half as sure as he sounded to Bethany.

“I know he has some impressive new magic, but whatever it is it’s not enough to take on a group of darkspawn that size.” Nathaniel started pushing at the barrier trying to find a way out.

“Trust me, Nathaniel. Anders will be all right.” Bethany tried to soothe him but even she wasn’t sure, not with so very many of them. And, what if he was poisoned or worse? They’d all be stuck in that barrier until the spell fizzled out and Anders could be dead by then.

“Either you’ve all gone mad, or you know something relevant that I’m missing.” He stared at them each in turn, only moving on when the other person looked away. He sighed, “And there’s nothing I can do except stand here and wait to see if you’re right.”

From their place at the back of the room angled behind Sekhmet they couldn’t see very far down the corridor. Anders’ flames had disappeared just as he’d started off, almost as if he’d doused them on purpose. In the dark, he quickly disappeared out of sight and they all had to tensely wait to see what would come next. 

Nathaniel gasped when he saw blue flames licking across the walls and ceiling of the cavern. They didn’t touch anything on the ground, but smothered the fire. The sky blue flames battered against the barrier, heating even the air within quickly. Bethany was soaked through with sweat before the flames guttered out. And, when the blue flames disappeared there was black soot covering every inch of the walls and ceiling it had touched. 

“Fuck, where did he learn that?”

Everyone else was silent, waiting expectantly for Anders to return. He came back slowly, clearly not injured but looking very tired. He smiled a little when he saw them, probably glad his spell had held. Bethany was glad; she had no desire to become another pile of ash mysteriously left in the Deep Roads. 

Anders released the spell and Nathaniel was at his side in a moment. “How did you do that? Where did you learn it? They’re all gone.” 

Bethany was more than surprised by Nathaniel’s rapid fire questions.

“Please Nathaniel, I need to rest.” He all but collapsed next to Sekhmet and was asleep as quickly as he’d touched the bedroll.

“Someone needs to start talking now. He said he didn’t do blood magic, and I believe him, but what the fuck was that?” 

It was Merrill who spoke up, “Old magic, very old, very powerful, and as you can see very taxing.” She walked over to Anders and cast a spell. “Someone should take off his boots and cover him. He shouldn’t sleep like that. He won’t wake now. He’s going to need food and a lot of water when he wakes. Any chance one or two of you men would be willing to hunt for some nug or something? Meat would be good for him.”

Nathaniel looked them over again and finally shook his head a little, “Sebastian, come hunt with me.”

Beth felt her heart leap, why was Nathaniel taking Sebastian? He didn’t like him and was worried about his sanity. Sebastian quickly followed him though.

“Varric, you should collect any salvageable arrows or bolts.” 

Bethany was pretty sure they’d all be ash, or smoking lumps of metal but kept silent. Varric nodded to Merrill and took off down the passageway. Fenris was still standing over Sekhmet, so Isabela took off Anders boots and tried to make him comfortable while Merrill restarted the fire. Bethany grabbed all the canteens she could find and used the spell Anders had taught her years ago to fill them all.

When Isabela finished she sat at the sleeping couple’s feet, while Fenris continued to stand by their heads. Once Merrill had the fire burning she lifted the spell off Anders and then moved to go stand watch at the entrance to the passage. Bethany joined her a few minutes later.

“Would have never imagined you taking charge like that.”

Merrill blushed, “Me either, but they were all just standing around, and I didn’t want any of them telling Anders’ secret. It’s only for him to tell, not us. I hope Sebastian stays quiet.”

“I don’t think you need to worry. He seems afraid of upsetting Sekhmet.”

Merrill cringed a little, “Aren’t we all?”


	85. Tainted Corridors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE, Sensitive subject, blood, character death

“It’s time, your sister is up and eating, they’ll be fine. We need to go.” Nathaniel hadn’t even turned to look at her.

“I thought we’d leave with them tomorrow.” She responded, not sure why he couldn’t wait one more day.

“She’s going to slow them down too much. We’ve been down here far too long already.” He’d been antsy since Anders had turned all the darkspawn into so many piles of ash.

She wondered if Nathaniel was just upset because Anders wouldn’t talk about what he’d done, or how. Even though Anders slept most of the previous day Nathaniel had tried to talk to him several times, but Anders would only remark that he was tired. And now, Nathaniel was pushing for her to leave.

“Pack up, we’ll leave after breakfast.”

She wouldn’t argue, but she was disappointed. Instead of packing she stood up and went to her sister and sat down. 

Sekhmet smiled, “So, it’s to be today then.”

Beth nodded, “I’m not ready to go.”

Sekhmet hugged her and kissed her cheek, “We’ll still be sisters wherever you go and wherever I am. You don’t have to stay here for that.”

Beth sat back on her heels, she’d just begun to let go of her anger at Sekhmet. She wanted to stay with her sister and get to know her all over again. She felt like she’d missed so much in the years since she joined the Wardens and had been burning with so much anger.

She sighed and stood, fetching some boiled oats for them both before sitting back down beside her sister. She handed her their meager breakfast, “How are you feeling today.”

Sekhmet smiled, but Beth noticed it wasn’t quite a real smile. “Better, ready to get out of here. Maybe we could all leave today if that would appease him.”

Beth shifted a little uncomfortably.

Sekhmet nodded, “He’s right, I’ll slow you down. I’m sorry Beth.”

“It’s not your fault you’re not feeling well.” Beth stuffed some food in her mouth to silence its petulant tone.

Anders sat down and caressed Sekhmet’s back, “How you are two beautiful ladies this morning?”

“Beth and Nathaniel are leaving today.” 

Anders looked to Nathaniel then at Beth. “Might be for the best, he’s sick of all of us and the Deep Roads.”

“He was better when you were talking with him.” 

Anders look soured, “We ran out of things to talk about, Beth.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. She couldn’t completely blame Anders. Who knew how Nathaniel would react? If he hated blood mages how would he feel about an abomination?

“Sorry, I’m just not looking forward to it.”

Anders chuckled, “Haven’t had enough of the Deep Roads yet? Aren’t you a glutton for punishment.”

She smiled and tried not to notice how drawn Anders looked. He’d slept nearly the whole day before, only waking up to eat or relieve himself. She wondered how many darkspawn there must have been to make him that tired. After all she’d seen him turn stone creatures to ash before and that hadn’t seemed to slow him down much at all. 

Or had it? She’d had Blight sickness by then and everything was a bit of a blur. They’d kept moving, certainly. They’d been desperate to get out of the Deep Roads, so maybe he’d just pushed himself.

She shifted to take a better look at him. There were still dark circles under his eyes, his skin had an odd pallor, and his lips were pale and cracked. “Are you feeling all right, Anders?”

He scowled, “I’m fine.”

Sekhmet looked at him closer, “She’s right, you don’t look well, Anders.”

He nodded, “Just a little tired, and more than a little sick of the Deep Roads. I’ll be glad to leave tomorrow morning.”

“We can leave today if you’d like.”

“No, you’re not at your best, and I still need rest. Leaving today would be taking more chances than we need to.”

“What if you can convince Nathaniel and Bethany to stay with us if we leave today?”

“Sekhmet,” he sighed tiredly.

“Sorry.”

He ran his hand over his face and pushed himself up to his feet. He walked over to Nathaniel and began speaking in quiet tones. Nathaniel watched him raptly as he spoke then whispered back, but he didn’t look as if he was likely to be accommodating. 

There were several minutes of tense whispering between them before Anders stormed off. He disappeared down the hall away from the campsite. 

“That looks like it went well.”

Beth nodded, “He probably asked Anders what he did again.”

“Can’t just be happy that no one died?”

“He seems to be taking Anders’ refusal to tell him personally. It’s not like him. What little experience I’ve had with him in the past he’s never been one to push someone to divulge their secrets before. I suppose it could have something to do with their time in the Wardens together.”

She sighed and went back to eating her oats.

********

A couple hours later she and Nathaniel were heading out of the camp and back towards the surface. Bethany was proud of herself, she hadn’t cried even though she’d felt like it a few times. Sekhmet had made her promise to write, and Beth had gladly acquiesced. It was time she and Sekhmet set things right between them.

Nathaniel had explained to her several times before they’d left the camp that everyone was recovering enough that the two of them leaving wouldn’t hurt their chances of reaching the service. He repeated it enough that she began to wonder who it was he was trying to convince, her or himself. The good-bye between him and Anders had been especially awkward.

They hadn't been moving along for very long when a cacophony of noise erupted from behind them. Bethany stopped unease pooling low in her gut. Something was wrong with her sister; she could all but sense it. "We have to go back."

"They're not your concern anymore, Beth."

"Like Delilah isn't yours? They saved our asses."

"They have Anders, they'll be fine."

She smiled, "For all your complaints about him you have an awfully lot of faith in the man."

"He deserves it, doesn’t he? Now, keep moving."

"I have to go back."

And then Anders' voice, loud and tinged with panic, reverberated down the stone corridor. Nathaniel took off at a run back towards the odd group they'd so recently left. Bethany hurried to keep up with him.

He came to an abrupt stop when they’d reached the group. Most of them were huddled awkwardly around the fire while Sebastian paced back and forth behind them. On the far side of the cavern were Sekhmet and Anders and a pool of blood. Sekhmet was lying down and Anders was channelling his healing energy towards her.

“What’s going on,” Nathaniel asked quietly.

Varric sighed and shook his head sadly, “She’s losing baby again.”

Bethany’s heart quickened, “Again?”

“Yes, like the last one,” the dwarf was watching Anders with sad eyes.

“Varric, you mean she was pregnant before?” She pressed again.

He turned to her finally, “You didn’t know?”

“How could I? She never tells me things like this. I didn’t even know about Anders until I saw them while Kirkwall was under attack.” 

“How the Fade could he have gotten her pregnant twice?” She asked looking at Nathaniel.

“He’s a gifted healer as you well know, Beth.” Nathaniel’s voice was gruff. He set down his pack, “What do you need, Anders?”

“Space,” it was said tersely.

Bethany could believe a great many things, but not that Anders had been able to bypass the taint to get Sekhmet with child twice. She shook her head, “I can’t believe Anders would do that after all the lectures he gave. He should have known better.”

Fenris looked at her curiously, “Known better?”

She nodded, “Anders is a Warden. Warden’s can’t have children.”

Fenris sneered, “Ha, I knew it.”

Merrill who’d been quiet up till then stepped forward scowling at Fenris, “Anders didn’t use blood magic.”

“He must have, Merrill.” Beth sighed, she felt betrayed somehow.

Fenris’ sneer didn’t flicker, “Does it really surprise you that he’s such a hypocrite?” 

Bethany watched as Merrill glared at Fenris, and for the elven woman who was usually so timid she actually looked quite formidable in this moment. “Anders never would, besides it'd leave an impression, a residual tang to his magic if he'd used it and there's nothing there.”

Fenris faltered a little under Merrill’s pointed glare, but not much. “Then, how did he get her pregnant twice?”

Isabela chuckled, “Well, you see luv.”

Fenris snapped at her, “Stow it, Isabela.” He turned and looked speculatively at Sebastian still pacing behind them. “Maybe it’s not his kid.”

Varric, who didn’t seem to have been paying much attention to the conversation suddenly turned around, “You really are a spiteful piece of refuse aren't you? That woman has saved your ass more times than I can count and that's the way you talk about her? And Sebastian considers you a friend.”

He walked away from the group towards Anders and Sekhmet and Bethany joined him. As they got closer to Anders he snarled at them, “I said get back.”

“And we heard you, Blondie, now what can we do to help?”

He turned and looked up at Bethany such an ache, such a misery to his face, “I’m losing them.”

Bethany knelt down by Sekhmet’s side and started checking her over with her magic. She gasped in surprise, Sekhmet was a mess inside. Bethany wasn’t a good enough healer to be able to see inside Sekhmet like Anders could, but she’d learned enough from him that she knew what most of the feelings her magic sent back to her were.

The placenta was dislodged, the child was in crisis, and Sekhmet’s womb seemed to be hemorrhaging from almost a dozen tears. “Merrill,” she called there was no way, no matter how good of a healer he was, that Anders could save them on his own.

“Not her, she’s a blood mage.”

“Yes her, or we’ll lose them.”

Anders lowered his head and went back to trying to heal Sekhmet and save the child. Bethany was already healing Sekhmet as well, but it felt like for every injury they healed another one appeared. Varric knelt by Sekhmet’s head and began telling a tale, gently stroking her hair as he spoke. Bethany never would have thought of distracting Sekhmet. She would have just healed the physical wounds and not worried about the emotional ones.

Sebastian, who had been pacing not far away ever since Anders had snarled at everyone to get back, came over suddenly, “What can I do, please?”

“I said get back,” Anders snarled.

“Bring us whatever lyrium you have left,” they would need them and Beth could see the man wasn’t going to just stand back anymore.

Sebastian left and came back with only a couple bottles. Bethany felt at a loss, they weren’t going to be enough. She pushed the bottles over to Anders. He was the best healer, he should use them. He drank them both down quickly and resumed working to save Sekhmet’s life as well as the life of his unborn son.

Bethany was tiring and her magic was starting to fail her. She was surprised when a shadow fell over her. She looked up to find Fenris standing beside her. He squatted down and looked at Anders. “Her magic’s nearly gone, tell her how to do it.”

Anders lifted his head, surprise and awe both clear as day on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Venhedis, tell her.”

He nodded, “Beth, push healing energy into Fenris’ tattoos.”

“What?”

“Just do it, before you have no magic left.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Please Beth, just do it. You’ll understand once you’ve done it. And, ignore his reaction, please.”

Beth did as Anders bid. She shivered at the surge of power that rushed through her. Gods, she was getting magic back from him, from his tattoos somehow. They glowed bright as she kept pushing the magic in. Fenris’ head was hung down and she didn’t look at him too closely, she couldn’t respond to his reaction, whatever it was, if she couldn’t see it.

When she felt she had all she could take she stopped. Fenris let out a ragged breath and looked at Anders, “Do it.”

Anders closed his eyes and bit his lip and poured magic into Fenris’ tattoo. Fenris gasped and moaned and then swore viscously in Tevene. Anders kept pouring the magic into Fenris until his skin shimmered a sky blue. Fenris flinched, but didn’t make Anders stop. Anders pulled back on his own and went back to working on Sekhmet without a word.

Fenris looked at Merrill and shuddered. He turned his gaze to Sekhmet who was bluish, eyes glazed, and covered in blood. He clenched his fists and moved next to Merrill, “If you touch me with your blood magic, if you taint me with it I will make you wish your clan had killed you.”

She bit her lip and nodded and then pushed her own magic into his tattoos. When she was finished he stood up abruptly. “I’ll stay close if you need me, but remember, it will still make you ill.”

And Fenris did stay close, he faced away from them and shuddered periodically, but he stayed close, right on the periphery of Bethany’s vision. She closed her eyes to focus better on saving her sister. She healed tear after tear, but couldn’t find what might be causing it.

Anders was fighting hard to save the baby, his magic much brighter that either Bethany’s or Merrill’s. Having this much magic inside Sekhmet was making it even more difficult to suss out what the problem was and where it was stemming from. The child was in crisis, its heart slowing and Sekhmet drifted in and out of consciousness as she continued to bleed. 

Beth could feel her sister’s heart slowing as well, her body slowly losing its fight. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be real. She’d just got her sister back, why would she be taken away from her now, here in these filthy Deep Roads. Why would the Maker allow it? Why would he allow what should be a joyous occasion turn into this blood soaked misery?

She wanted to scream and rail at the Maker. Instead, she asked for help, for guidance. She felt an odd little flare of magic. It happened again and she realized it wasn’t magic, it was the Fade. She stretched out and tried to tune in her senses to make sure she wasn’t simply delirious with grief.

But, there it was again like a little tiny bubble of the Fade, somehow inside of her sister’s womb. She was torn for a second as to whether to keep healing Sekhmet or to try to figure out the little bubble. But, maybe if she found out why there was a little bubble of Fade inside Sekhmet it could help them.

Suddenly, the little bubble of Fade burst and a new torrent of blood started to spill from Sekhmet. Shit, the bubble had caused a tear in Sekhmet’s womb. She looked to Anders and Merrill and decided she had to know before she said anything to Anders.

He was pale, shaking; the dark circles looked like deep, dark bruises now. Sweat had turned his hair into damp strings and was running down his face unchecked. Bethany could almost feel the fear and despair coming off him. 

Sekhmet had begun drifting in and out of lucidity, barely staying awake. Whatever Beth was going to do it had to be quick. She shifted closer to Merrill and leaned closer. “I think there are little bubbles of Fade inside her.” She whispered.

Merrill scowled, then after a moment of concentration, her eyes widened. “Are they making her bleed?”

Beth nodded, “I think so, how did he miss them?”

“The Fade’s inside him now, he feels it all the time. He wouldn’t feel such little bursts of it unless he was looking for them.” She swallowed hard, and her eyes closed for a moment. “We have to tell him.”

“First, how do we fix it?”

She shook her head, “We can’t.” She leaned over Sekhmet towards Anders. “Anders, the child’s possessed.”

Anders’ head snapped up, eyes wide. “No, no he’s not.”

Bethany had felt the Fade, but hadn’t realized the implications of it until Merrill had said it. “Maker’s breath, he is. Anders, he’s tearing her apart inside, we can’t save her like this.”

“No,” he whimpered nearly silently, “no, he can’t be possessed. He hasn’t even been born yet.”

Merrill sat silently, doing her best to keep healing the little tears, a tear rolling down her cheek. She knew as well as Bethany that there would be no saving this child. They could lose them both or they could save Sekhmet. 

Bethany spoke up a little, needing to make sure she had Anders’ attention. “Anders, we can’t save them both. We can save her, or neither of them.”

Quick steps brought a shadow looming over them. “No, not again. She can’t lose another child.” Bethany was taken aback by Sebastian’s sudden outburst. “The Maker cannot allow this to happen. Anders, tell her you can save them both.”

Anders sat there on his heels, eyes closed, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. Bethany looked at her sister, skin bluish, hair sweat damp and stuck to her forehead, eyes bleary, but she knew what was happening. Bethany almost wished her sister wasn’t lucid as she watched tears slipped from Sekhmet’s eyes. She closed them eyes and turned her head away, “I’m sorry, Anders. I keep failing you.” The words were a whisper from her sister’s lips. Bethany barely heard them.

Bethany choked down a sob. She sounded so much like she had the day that Bethany had seen Sekhmet and Carver fighting when she’d been on the ground waiting for Carver to kill her, full of pain and doubt and self -loathing. She forgot sometimes the depths her sister tread inside her own mind. 

Anders let out a choked sob, “I can’t save them.” He sat heavily back on his heels and took a deep breath and then another. “You two try to stop her from bleeding out. I’ll finish dilating her and extract the child.”

“You can’t Anders, it’s too soon. They baby will die.” Sebastian was pale and shaking.

He looked up at Sebastian, “I can’t lose her.”

“Maker forgive you.” He turned and walked away.

“He damned me long ago,” Anders said quietly as he went to work.

It was a slow process and they nearly lost Sekhmet several times, but finally the baby was free. Anders didn’t even look at it and handed it over to Bethany, immediately going to work on healing Sekhmet. She’d passed out several minutes before and Bethany was glad she wouldn’t have the memory of Anders taking the baby from her.

Bethany couldn’t help herself and started to clean the baby’s face and hair. It was a little boy, with white hair, and perfect little features. As she moved from its face to its chest to clean it off she noticed a slow heartbeat. “Anders, my god Anders it’s alive!”

Anders stood, tired and strangely without joy. His magic slid over the baby and he worked on it for several minutes. He never touched the child, never seemed happy, just healed it.

He turned back towards Sekhmet speaking softly before he knelt back down, “Its lungs aren’t developed enough. It won’t live.”

His magic washed back over Sekhmet as he finished healing her. Bethany watched horrified, holding the tiny child in her arms as Merrill and Anders tried to save Sekhmet, again. The child in her arms was quiet, eyes closed, and unmoving. If she hadn’t felt that faint heartbeat she would have thought it dead.

She used her own magic to see if she could coax the lungs to grow, but they stayed stubbornly under developed. How could the Maker be so cruel? Not only was this the second child he’d taken from Anders and Sekhmet, but he was making them watch this one slowly suffocate.

“Why won’t his lungs grow?” She finally asked.

“The body can only replace what it already knows. It’s too young; its lungs weren’t fully developed so the body doesn’t know how to fix it. Just as a man born without a finger can never be made to grow that finger, this body can never be made to grow proper lungs.” He sighed, his magic flickering out. “All it will ever know is that it was born through blood and died in the dark.”

Bethany shook, tears streaming down her face, “It’s not fair.”

Anders stood, face red, body shaking, “Life isn’t fair. It takes, and it steals, and it robs. It maims, and it kills, and it destroys. It’s cruel and vicious. But it is never fair. You should have been in the Wardens long enough by now to learn that. If you weren’t ready to learn that you should have never left Hightown, Sunshine.” The nickname was as bitter as the rest of his tirade, but as he finished fresh tears flowed down his cheeks.

Nathaniel walked over to Anders, “Is there anything else you can do for Sekhmet?”

Anders shook his head no.

“Then come with me,” he wrapped his arm around Anders and headed down the corridor with them.

Bethany stood there, still holding the child and sobbing. She wasn’t mad at Anders, not really. The man had just delivered a death sentence to his second child and had no way to save him from a long, slow, painful death. 

If she were a stronger woman she’d suffocate it now. Better it be quick than the slow struggle ahead of it. But, as she looked down on its little face she knew she couldn’t. She looked around the room briefly and wondered if any of them could.

Sebastian was knelt at Sekhmet’s side whispering to her, possibly praying as he brushed her hair off her forehead even though she was still unconscious. Merrill was still knelt at Sekhmet’s side, keeping an eye on her and cleaning her up while Varric was still talking in those soft tones. Fenris stood by the wall face lax as he looked back and forth between Sekhmet and the child in Beth’s arms. She thought perhaps the man was in shock. Isabela sat by the fire, staring into it, silent tears running down her cheeks. 

Bethany made her way over to the fire and settled down with the child. She touched the boy’s fingers, he was so small, but so perfect like a doll. There wasn’t much else she could do, but she cradled the child against her and rubbed his chest lightly, hoping in some small way to ease his suffering.

“He’s right, poor thing will never know anything but darkness and pain.” Isabela’s voice was hoarse.

“He could know love, and that’s something isn’t it?”

Isabela gave her a sad little smile, “Then, this is what you were made for isn’t it, Lady Sunshine, to be the light in someone’s life?”

She’d hated that nickname at times, she’d even put it aside recently. But, if she could be a little light in this poor child’s life, she gladly would. She cradled it close and whispered to it softly, “You’re surrounded by those that love you.” She glanced around the room seeing all the sullen, defeated looking faces and Fenris’ face still shocked and disbelieving. “You’re surrounded by those that fought and sacrificed for you.”

She kissed the boy’s forehead gently. “Your parents wanted you desperately.”

Anders and Nathaniel came shuffling back, Anders looking no more cheered, but at least less agitated. He walked over to Fenris and whispered quietly while Nathaniel went to his pack and untied his lute. Beth watched in wonder as the whole camp seemed to shift.

Anders got more magic from Fenris, then Fenris and Sebastian gently moved Sekhmet, who was still asleep, back towards the fire. Anders did some strange magic Bethany had never seen and tossed it in the air, making a beautiful twinkling canopy of stars. It shown brilliant light down over all of them, the others seemed awed by its beauty as well. 

Everyone settled back down around the fire and Nathaniel spoke gently. “We’re all devastated by what’s going to happen to this poor child. We’re angry because there’s nothing we can do to save him. But, we don’t need to let it die forgotten in the dark.”

He sat down and placed his lute across his lap as he kept speaking, “Anders says he probably has a few hours at most in this world. So, let’s make them memorable. We can sing, and tell stories, and shower him with affection so that he leaves this world knowing he was cherished.”

He canted his head and sighed softly, “But first, Dad, he needs a name.”

Anders reached out and took the boy from Bethany. He sighed and hugged the boy close and Bethany was glad to see him connecting with the child. He bent his head down and said softly, “I’ll give you an Alamarri name like your brother.” He took a deep breath, “While you brother was like the wind, you are our traveler, our Seadhna.” He kissed the boy’s forehead softly.

They each went around, introducing themselves to the child, holding him and telling tales about his parents. Merrill and Nathaniel both sang a few times and Bethany was relieved when Sekhmet woke up before the boy passed. She held him and told him two stories, one of his father and one of Bethany.

As they passed the boy and told their stories he never opened his eyes, never moved, and never cried. And, when someone noticed the boy struggling one of the mages would ease his discomfort, even though they could not stop what would inevitably happen. Still, they made sure the tiny, too small child did not suffer any more than necessary.

And when they could think of no more stories to tell Varric took over. His voice filled the cavern as Nathaniel played his lute softly, and their little star lights twinkled overhead. There was pain, but there was joy as well, a tiny spark of light that hopefully the boy could take with him when he faded.

********

 _“Could you coax the spirit to take over, maybe the baby could live.”_ Anders was grasping at straws and he knew it, but couldn’t help it. _“You could live like that, couldn’t you, Justice?”_

_“I am unsure, but it does not matter. It is not really a spirit as you and I think of them.”_

It was obviously possessed; all of them had felt it once they’d actually looked for it.

_“It’s has no real consciousness, no way to have its own will, let alone act on it. It is not even as sentient as a wisp yet. It is vastly different than you and I. It is not a separate entity. It is spirit and flesh in one, fully integrated on every level. There is the child’s will alone.”_

Anders was confused, how could any of that be, none of it made sense. _“Yet?”_

_“I have to assume there would be more, yes? Or maybe not being that the child and it are actually one being it is likely the mind of the child that controls what the body does, whether corporeal or magical. And, I am sorry to say, my friend, that I have no ideas on how to appeal to a child that cannot understand the danger how to save its own life.”_

_“We did this, we nearly killed her. We…the child will die because of our seed. How did we not know this was a possibility?”_ Anders paused, trying to remain calm. It was hard to in the face of having to watch his child slowly slip from life knowing there was nothing he could do to save it. _“Wait, you didn’t know, did you?”_ That prospect was even worse.

Justice’s response was tinged with anger, _“How would I know? I’ve never known an…abomination besides us. I’ve never heard of one having a child. How could you imagine I would allow her to almost die?”_

 _“You wanted a child. You were curious about it.”_ Anders couldn’t stop himself from being accusatory. Even as he knew he was just looking for someone to blame, he could not stop himself.

_“My curiosity was never enough to put her life at risk. Do you not know that?”_

Anders didn’t know how he was going to keep breathing, let alone keep living his life once their second son had slipped from this life, but there was one thing he did know. _“Well, I suppose now we know why. No more, never again. Even if we can overcome the taint we can’t overcome the child’s body trying to rip hers apart from the inside. I won’t put her in danger again.”_

 _“Don’t be rash.”_ Justice’s voice was calm in his head, and Anders had no idea how the spirit could be so calm at a moment like this. 

Of course, Justice thought pain was beautiful, didn’t he? Anders hoped he choked on it. _“I’m not being rash, I’m just not risking her again.”_

_“Before you discard the idea of children completely we should do some research. We can see if there’s any information to be found regarding possession and pregnancy. What about Flemeth? We know she’s possessed and has had several daughters, presumably.”_

Anders mulled the thought over for a moment. Could there be any information? And, while Flemeth might have information she was not likely to share. _“I assume since she’s the one possessed her body can likely handle it, if and when the child goes through this. Then again, since Morrigan isn’t possessed Flemeth may have a way to stop it from happening. Truthfully, with Flemeth there’s no way to know, and you can’t really expect me to ask her, can you?”_

_“Would it be so different then going to the Architect to help Sareyna and Zevran?”_

_”It is, and you know it.”_ They’d gone to save Sareyna and Zevran, not to fulfill a selfish desire for children.

_“Perhaps we can find information at the Black Emporium. The Antiquarian’s collection of books is quite impressive.”_

Anders entertained the idea for a brief moment, then looked to where Fenris was holding his son, speaking to him with his sonorous voice. His eyes slid from Fenris and the boy to Sekhmet, pale and weak. _“Absolutely not, it’s too risky. Her body can’t keep taking shocks like this. It’s too much even for her. We have each other and our pets. It’s enough.”_

Justice was quiet for a long time. Anders watched the others, heart aching to hold his son again, but also afraid to hold him again. For all his skills he was powerless against death. He shifted and pulled Sekhmet back against him. Holding her relieved a little of the ache he felt.

He knew better this time. He would not shut her out as he’d done before. This time the two of them would get through this together or likely not at all. He’d already decided he wasn’t going to wait for her to recover to get her out of the Deep Roads.

He was sure he could get Nathaniel to agree to travel with them from the Deep Roads. Nathaniel was in a rush, but he wasn’t cruel. They’d use rope and some of the tricks Sigrun had taught them to make a rope litter and carry Sekhmet out of the Deep Roads starting tomorrow. Neither he, nor anyone else was going to be able to tolerate any more time there.

The fact that his son was going to die in the Deep Roads ate at him like some ravenous rodent tearing at his guts. If they stayed there he knew he’d lose himself to madness. The others were all strained from their prolonged stay, and this loss would only make it worse.

He tried to swallow down the knot in his throat as he watched these people, none he’d really call his friend, all grieve over the child’s plight. This time would be different. They wouldn’t just sweep it away and forget. They wouldn’t lock their memories up and try to act as if it had never happened.

This time they’d had no choice but to share it. And, perhaps, together they could carry the burden of it. He hoped it would make things easier, at least for Sekhmet. For her sake he hoped sharing it would help. He squeezed her tight and kissed her forehead, “I love you.”

She settled against him a little more fully, relaxed a little, but didn’t speak. It didn’t matter, he knew she loved him. He could feel it, like a bright light in the dark miasma that had become their connection. He froze for a moment; they hadn’t lost it this time. He felt such a rush of relief wash over him he closed his eyes and tried not to feel guilty.

He clung to her, trying to calm himself. It would be unseemly to show the others the surge of joy he felt. Sekhmet shifted uneasily, anxiety rippling through her. He whispered to calm her, “I can still feel you. It’s not gone this time.”

She settled back and he felt her calming through their connection, felt the slow pulse of her acceptance and relief. He just wanted to curl up in a corner with her and drown in her for a few hours, but that would have to wait. He watched as Sebastian took the boy from Fenris for the second time.

None of them had expected the boy to live this long. But, the last time he’d held him he’d felt the boy’s heart slowing, ticking slowly downward to the inevitable. At least his few hours in the mortal realm he’d been surround by people who cared, instead of just the damp, dark, and taint of the Deep Roads.

He glanced up and saw Fenris staring at him. He’d been doing it all night since the boy had been born. It wasn’t exactly a hostile look, but it wasn’t friendly either. 

_“What are we going to tell the others when they ask what happened?”_

He looked at Fenris again, who was still staring at him. Was that what was going through the elf’s mind? _“That she miscarried again.”_

Justice pushed at his thoughts again, _“And, if they ask questions?”_

That would be the one saving grace in this mess, wouldn’t it? People never asked too many questions about the loss of a child. Women miscarried all the time, and no one really wanted to know if something involving a child was unpleasant. _“They won’t.”_

********

When the time was close they brought the baby, little Seadhna, back to Anders and Sekhmet. They left the trio alone, each moving away and finding something to occupy them. Justice pressed close so he could feel the child, and Anders didn’t fight him.

Relieved, Justice stayed quiet. He didn’t want control, or to interfere. He just wanted to be there. The boy was his in a way, too. So tiny, so perfect, so still, when Anders started to cry again he wasn’t sure which of them was causing the tears to fall because both of them were in pain.

He used Anders’ connection with Sekhmet to feel what she felt as well. He knew there was a chance she’d feel violated and betrayed, but he needed to feel close to her right now. It might be the last chance he ever had.

He knew there was a possibility that they would blame him for the loss of their sons, and their inability to become parents. He knew they might grow to despise and hate him. And, if that came to pass he’d do his best to stay out of their lives. So, for now, for these moments he wanted to be close to them. 

He felt the boy’s body against Anders’, felt his skin. He marveled at the tiny body, and the way he could actually feel the life leaving the poor child’s body slowly. He’d never experienced anything like it before, though he’d never been this still and attentive when someone died. He did not really understand what happened to the essence of a person when they left a body, but he hoped the boy’s next journey would be an easier one.

He did his best to stay, and watch, and feel but not interfere. But, could not help himself from compelling Anders to touch the boy’s face a couple times. He wondered what the boy’s eyes would look like, or if he had lived what kind of man he would have been. 

Thinking of his parents, Justice thought he might have been a very great man. The thought made him all the more sad to think of not just what he and those around him were losing, but what the world was losing. And, the idea of what great things a child of Sekhmet and Anders would be able to do convinced him that he must find a way for them to safely have a child in the future. Anders said no more, but he was scared. 

No, Justice would use this loss. He’d first need to end the slavery and imprisonment of mages. He was sure a child of Anders and Sekhmet would be a mage, and therefore he’d make sure they’d never have to risk being locked up. And, once the mages were free he’d find a way for them to have a child. 

He pushed a little at Anders, and the mage didn’t fight when he bent to kiss the boy’s forehead. _“I’m sorry the world wasn’t ready for you, little one. If you can, come back, we’ll be better next time.”_ They would be, Justice would make sure of it.

When the child slipped away Anders didn’t ask Justice to go, so he held Sekhmet even as Anders did. He caressed her hair, and kissed her cheek. And, when she sobbed out her apologies to Anders, he prompted Anders to remind her it wasn’t her fault.

And, when Anders finally asked to be alone, Justice slipped away hiding back in the dark to give Anders his room to grieve. He had plans to make.


	86. Onwards and Upwards

Anders was grateful when Sekhmet had finally slipped into sleep. She’d been almost hysterical for a while and it had torn at Anders because her fears were his fault. She’d clung to him, sobbing, whispering to him, begging him not to leave her, apologizing over and over. 

He’d held her, dully feeling his own pain, but her fear had completely overridden everything with its strength. The feel of it thrumming, rushing through their bond had pushed everything else out of the way, his feelings as well as her own grief. 

He’d held her close to try to comfort her and to keep the others from hearing her heartbreaking outpouring. She’d eventually drifted off, the blood loss and grief overwhelming her. He’d held her for a long time, trying to will himself into sleep with her, but wasn’t to be given any such reprieve, however temporary, from his grief.

Exasperated, heartbroken, and restless he slowly eased himself out from around her and stood up. He stretched, sighed, and decided to go for a walk. He needed to move, to think if he could. He needed to get Sekhmet out of there, needed to get himself free of the Deep Roads before he lost his grip on sanity completely.

It seemed more pressing now, more gnawing, closing in faster. Grief distorted everything even further than his mind usually did. He briefly thought about asking Justice to come through, but realized it wouldn’t make anything better this time. Even with Justice overshadowing him the pain would still be there.

It didn’t mean he couldn’t go for a walk himself, though. So, looking for a little alone time and a diversion from the ache inside he decided to walk down the corridor for a while. If he was lucky it would distract him, at least temporarily.

He walked briskly down the corridor in the dark, not bothering with a wisp. He’d been down here enough he could walk it in his sleep. Less than 100 meters away from their encampment he heard movement, a pebble bouncing across the stone surface of the road. Not darkspawn, he’d have felt that, but there were plenty of predators in the Deep Roads.

He called on his magic, ready to unleash a lightening spell when Justice barked at him to wait. _“It’s Fenris, I can hear his skin.”_

Anders lit a wisp, wondering why Fenris was standing in the dark, but he quickly doused it when he realized the usually ferocious elf had been weeping. Without a word Anders turned to leave, he and the elf may not like each other but Anders wasn’t about to intrude on whatever grief the elf felt on Sekhmet’s behalf.

“Anders?” Fenris’ voice was quiet, shaky, and unsure, completely uncharacteristic of the man.

Anders paused without turning around. “Yes?” He hoped Fenris had not detained him merely to give him a tongue lashing about seeing him in such a state.

“I…” his voice faded away as he drew in a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for your loss.” So soft, so quiet, almost a whisper, his usually sonorous voice agonized as he spoke the words.

Fuck, sincerity, commiseration from the elf? A fresh gout of pain burst free inside of Anders. He closed his eyes, a tear rolled free down his cheek. He just wanted to leave, wanted to hide, wanted to be suddenly struck deaf with all memory of Fenris’ voice, his sad words erased from his memory. Instead, he whispered “Thank you,” almost disbelieving the conversation was even taking place.

The both stood there still, nothing but their breath stirring the silence. Anders couldn’t see Fenris, and maybe that was best. Kindness seemed easier between them in the dark. He didn’t know whether Fenris could see him or not, but imagined even if he could that knowing Anders couldn’t see him as well was enough to ease the constant bitterness that flowed between them.

“If there’s anything I can do…” that quiet, shaky voice wavered through the darkness to his ears again before fading out completely.

Do? What was there to do besides pick at too fresh wounds? Anders was never going to be a father, had been a fool to think he could and for all his tenderness now they both knew Fenris thought it better that Anders’ would never be a parent. 

But, he was too tired, too worn, and too full of pain to be bitter just now. Instead, he took a deep breath and grabbed onto the one thing he knew they could agree on. “Just help me get her home safely.”

“Of course, no harm shall come to her, I promise.”

Anders grimaced; a flash of jealousy reared its head briefly before drifting away. It was a strange thing, he knew he had no reason to be jealous, but, with Fenris, could not quash the feeling entirely. As the jealousy faded Anders’ lips curled in a bit of a smirk, hopefully unseen in the dark. 

Fenris making a promise and a clearly solemn one like that to a mage was a minor miracle of its own. But, he knew the elf would keep his promise. He’d do all that he could to protect Sekhmet, especially now. Anders knew it was unkind, knew that it was not what Sekhmet would want but he’d use and sacrifice every one of their companions to get her safely home. Well, not Bethany. Sekhmet would never forgive him for that.

He took another deep breath and walked back towards their make shift encampment. He just wanted to be away from Fenris and his newly tender nature. Somehow, he knew Fenris would watch him if he were to have just continued down the corridor. 

He was still thinking about Fenris’ promise when another voice startled him. “You should come home with me.”

Anders paused without turning around. He didn’t need to; he’d know that voice anywhere. “I can’t.”

The gravelly voice was closer when it spoke again. “You can, and you need your family.”

Anders balled his hands into fists, anger rumbling through him. “That ‘family’ as you call it tried to kill me.” He’d been so grateful for them at first, but they’d left, splintered apart, and the remnants had nearly ended his life.

“No, they didn’t.” No anger, no admonishment either, just a statement of fact.

“It felt like it.” They’d done so much more than try to kill him. They’d robbed him of his peace of mind, his home, and what few friends he’d still had.

The voice was closer this time and a large hand settled on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better. It was my job, and I failed.”

He wouldn’t be even making this offer if he had any idea what Anders really was. “Nathaniel, there’s something you should know…” 

Nathaniel sighed, “I already know. I think I always did, just didn’t want more hardship in your life. ”

What the void was going on? Was Anders’ loss even affecting Nathaniel so much that he’d stopped thinking sensibly? And, why the Void wasn’t he angry? 

It was a tempting offer. A chance to get a small semblance of the peace and contentment back he’d known oh so briefly in the Wardens? But, he knew better. He knew it could never be. He wouldn’t endanger the other Wardens at the Keep when the rest of the Wardens inevitably came for him. “They’d kill us both if I came back and they ever found out.”

Nathaniel’s soft chuckle filled the tomb like silence of the Deep Roads briefly. “I think you assign them scruples that they lack.”

He really had no desire to argue with Nathaniel, they’d been friends by the time Anders had left the Wardens, or as close as the two of them could come with what they’d gone through. “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t.”

“Bring her,” Nathaniel squeezed his shoulder companionably, “she fights like she’s the one possessed.”

Anders smiled in the dark, “Doesn’t she?” He sighed, hoping this wasn’t going to drag on much longer. He wasn’t feeling especially equipped for making reasoned arguments just now. Nathaniel’s offer was generous, but it would only end in more pain for everyone. “Again, thank you, but I can’t.” Without waiting for a response he made his way back into the circle of light near the fire.

“Short walk” Varric spoke from across the fire where he sat writing in a book.

“Crowded corridor,” Anders responded briefly.

“Ah yes, seems half the men slinked away to go brood.”

“But, not you.” Was it out of concern or for observational purposes Anders wondered?

Varric didn’t look up as he replied, “No, I prefer to do my brooding in the written word.”

“If this ends up in one of your stories,” just the idea set Anders’ teeth on edge.

Varric stopped writing, setting his quill down and looking up from his book. “Have a little faith, Blondie. I may benefit from the struggles and clashes of my friends, but I would never do so at the expense of their pain.” 

Anders nodded; Varric was a good man mostly. He couldn’t imagine the dwarf would turn the agony that he and Sekhmet were suffering into a story to entertain the masses.

Varric sighed heavily, closed his book and stood up. “Excuse me.”

Anders watched him as he made his way to the wall. He hadn’t noticed it before somehow, but Sebastian was leaned against it. He cringed when he realized the Chantry brother was clutching the blanket that held the tiny remains of Anders’ and Sekhmet’s son.

Sebastian was staring blankly ahead and didn’t react immediately when Varric spoke to him. Anders couldn’t stomach watching Varric trying to take the bundle away from Sebastian and Sebastian’s almost frantic attempts not to let it go. At this point, he very much wished he had stayed in the bedroll with Sekhmet.

He was about to stand up and head back to her when Bethany settled down beside him. Anders chuckled a little to himself trying hard not to feel bitter. The more alone he wanted to be the more people felt the need to talk to him.

Bethany touched his arm gently. It surprised Anders because Bethany had never really touched him much in the past. Vaguely curious, he stared down at her fingers, his mind, fogged with grief, trying to make sense of her hand on his arm.

“Almost seems unfair.”

“What?” He asked, not particularly interested.

She looked over to where Sekhmet lay sleeping, “She gets to sleep while you have to suffer all of us fools who don’t know what to say to you, as well as the pitfalls of your own thoughts.”

“I thought you were done being angry with her.” He kept watching Sekhmet, concerned about the grimace on her face even in sleep.

“Not angry, just thinking how hard this must be on you. Exhaustion claimed her so she gets to escape it for at least a few hours. But you, you have to suffer all our feeble attempts to say or do something so we don’t feel so useless, so we can somehow assuage our own shock and grief by trying to tend yours in some way. 

And, we know we’re just making it worse, but can’t help ourselves because we’re all people of action, there must be something we can do. We just don’t know what. And, maybe if we talk to you, convey our sympathies, offer our assistance you’ll tell us something, anything we can actually do instead of just feeling useless, and empty, instead of being filled with regrets, and what ifs, and if I’d onlys.”

He settled his hand over Bethany’s. “Staying is something.”

She smiled, “Nathaniel and I will stay until we reach the surface.”

He was surprised. He hoped to have them at least stay the night in the estate. “Not to the estate?”

She pulled her hand gently away, “I’ll try, but he’s eager to return to Ferelden.”

“We’ll have a few days to work on him at least.” He looked down the corridor, but couldn’t see very far at all. “So, about you and Nathaniel.”

She smiled just the tiniest bit. “He says he’s going to take me everywhere with him from now on.”

Anders nodded, “You survived, the others didn’t.”

“Oh,” her smile wilted.

Anders hadn’t meant that the way it sounded. “Be patient with him, he does feel affection for you. I can see it.”

She nodded, but didn’t smile again. “Are you sure? Sometimes on this last trip I thought I saw something, affection maybe, but maybe I’m fooling myself like I did with you.”

Anders smiled and touched her cheek, “You didn’t fool yourself with me. You had a crush. If I had to guess I’d say you’d never met someone open about their magic before me.”

She blushed faintly, “No, I hadn’t.”

Anders dropped his hand, “Attraction of circumstance, simple.”

She smiled, “And, what makes you sure he’s not affection of circumstance?”

“He’s hardly the first man you’ve ever met. Not the first pretty archer even.”

Beth chuckled, “No, I suppose not.”

“Right, besides you’ve been writing to me. I can see the difference.”

Beth sighed softly, “Even if he does feel affection for me, I’m a mage, and that’ll never be easy for him.”

“Well, you already know what to do. Steer clear of blood magic, don’t get yourself possessed. Be able to do anything he asks you for. Go with him every time he asks. Be yourself, Beth. Not the cynical girl that’s been so angry, but the woman who sees both the light and the dark in the world.”

“What makes you think that would work?”

Anders gave her a rueful smile, “Because, Nathaniel may seem all business and gloom but he’s actually quite funny and charming once he feels comfortable. The way you two see the world, when you’re not angry, isn’t all that different, not anymore.”

“Don’t they say people who are too alike don’t work?”

“If people don’t see the world the same way they have no common ground to build from. I’d never have been happy with someone who didn’t truly understand the pain the Templars cause.”

“And here I always thought you and Sekhmet were the victims of animal attraction.” She smirked at him.

“Oh, there’s plenty of that, darling.”

“Ew, no I don’t want to hear it.”

Anders took a deep breath. He liked talking to Bethany, he did, but trying to keep the conversation light was draining. “Good luck.”

“I’ll just take a lesson from Sekhmet’s playbook and be relentless.”

Anders nodded and Bethany started to get up to leave. Anders grabbed her wrist lightly, “Bethany, Nathaniel means a lot to me, probably more than I could ever explain to you. He was nearly destroyed by the last woman he loved. Please, don’t hurt him. Don’t make me have to choose between you. I don’t think any of us would like the outcome.” 

Bethany looked startled but she nodded. He released her and she went back to her bedroll and picked up the tunic she’d been patching to pass the time. Anders took his chance and crawled back into the bedroll with Sekhmet, curling around her and begging sleep to grant him a respite from his pain.

********

He woke hours later to the smell of food. He felt a gnawing hunger, but there was no desire to eat. As he sat up he realized the hunger wasn’t him. Gently, he shook Sekhmet begging her under his breath to wake up. He wasn’t sure he could take feeding her unconscious body again.

She stirred slowly. Her eyes, swollen from her weeping before sleep were still red rimmed. He helped her to sit up and shuddered when he let her go. “I’ll be right back” he whispered.

He got her some soup and quickly settled down beside her. “I’ll hold the bowl. Can you feed yourself?”

She nodded, her hand shook and most of the soup ended back in the bowl but she did manage to get some of it into her mouth. Her hair slipped forward and he tucked it back behind her ear. 

“Keep eating. I want you to eat it all. We’re leaving today.” 

She looked up at him briefly and nodded but kept eating. She kept shaking and after a few minutes she sighed, “I can’t.”

He nodded, “All of it, my love.”

She was shaking more and more, “I need to lie down.”

He set the bowl down and slid behind her. He scooted up until her back rested against his chest. “Better?”

She relaxed back against him and nodded. 

He picked up the bowl mentally kicking himself for not realizing she’d be too weak to stay upright on her own for too long. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear as she took another bite.

She let out a strangled little half sob. 

“Shh,” he soothed as he caressed her arm with his free hand. 

It took her a while but she did eventually finish eating. Anders couldn’t bring himself to eat so he just lay down with her again and waited until she slipped back into slumber. Once he was sure she was out he slid free and went to Nathaniel.

“Have you got any rope?”

Nathaniel quirked an eyebrow at him, “What do you have in mind.”

“We make her a litter and get the fuck out of here.”

Nathaniel stood and grabbed his bag. “Is it safe for her to travel?”

“Safer than staying here and having her and I go mad.” He wondered if Nathaniel had any idea how dangerous that would really be. 

“I think it’s too late for your friend.” He looked pointedly at Sebastian.

Anders didn’t bother to follow his gaze. “He’s not my concern.”

“Anders,” Nathaniel admonished.

“Her, she’s my only concern. The only one, understood?”

Nathaniel nodded, “Understood. So, do we use staves to make the litter?” He handed Anders the rope from his pack.

“No, we can do it a few different ways, use a few bedrolls and cinch her up for a few of us to carry or do you think it would be better to handle it like we did with Zevran?”

“More like Zev, but she’s in no condition to handle any weapons. She’ll be all right upright?”

“Yes, she’s healed, just weak.”

“Okay, so we’ll make sure to lace it up her back. You, Fenris, and I can take turns to carry her to the surface.”

Anders scowled, “Just you and I.”

“No, we’ll move faster splitting it between the three of us and you know he’ll be careful with her.” He sighed, “I know you don’t like him, but we need him so we can all get out of here.”

“Then, why not Sebastian?” Anders couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want all four of them if he was already going to drag Fenris into it.

“Because he’s not safe. I told you, Anders, the boy’s mad. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone running off into the dark on his own already.”

Anders sighed, it might be better if Sebastian did just that. If he endangered Sekhmet at all Anders wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, which would leave him in a position he didn’t envy. Would Sekhmet be able to forgive him if he killed Sebastian, even if it was to save her? He really didn’t want to test it out. “Fine, the three of us will carry her and we’ll keep an eye on Sebastian, but if he endangers her in any way I need you to kill him.” 

“Me?” Nathaniel scowled, “Anders, I…”

“I know what a terrible thing I’m asking you, Nathaniel. And, I do not ask it lightly. I cannot lose her. You’ve seen a small dose of the destruction I’m capable of now. It’s only her love that manages to keep us in check at all. If I kill him, I may lose her. Without her we’re nothing but Vengeance.”

Nathaniel was quiet for a long time staring at Anders. Anders stood still and met his gaze. He hoped Nathaniel’s instinct to protect the people of Thedas outweighed his aversion to the assassin he’d once been trained as. He had put the man in an untenable position, and though he regretted it he had told no lies. Without Sekhmet he’d be a savage beast ravaging the world in the name of vengeance.

Eventually, Nathaniel simply nodded, handed Anders the rope and walked away. Anders wished there had been another way to handle Sebastian, but he couldn’t think of one that wouldn’t end up with Sekhmet and himself at odds. It was a risk he simply couldn’t take. 

He sat with the rope and started tying the series of knots that would make a rope carrier to hold Sekhmet on their backs as they carried her out. It took him a few tries to get it right, he’d only seen Sigrun tie it the once, but he did eventually figure it out. He used the excess rope as Nathaniel had suggested and crisscrossed it across the back to support Sekhmet.

He looked up and saw the others packing, each of them eager to leave except for Sebastian who sat on the floor staring into the fire still clutching the bundle that had been Anders’ son. Anders shuddered and turned away. He couldn’t stomach the idea of his son’s body remaining in the Deep Roads, but the idea of carrying him out didn’t seem any more appealing.

He busied himself getting his gear as well as Sekhmet’s ready for the trip out of the Deep Roads. When they were all ready he gently woke Sekhmet up and Nathaniel helped him get her situated on his back. Bethany quickly picked up and packed the bedrolls then slung Sekhmet’s pack over her shoulder. Varric scooped up Anders’ and they headed off, back towards the surface.

Sebastian trailed towards the back, Varric walking beside him speaking to the chantry brother in low, soothing tones. Anders briefly wondered if Nathaniel had said something to him, or if he’d simply decided to do it himself. Anders, with Sekhmet sleeping on his back, tried to steer clear of them. Nathaniel led the way, and Fenris brought up the rear.

They were making remarkably good time, they were all very eager to see the sun again. A few hours later Anders woke Sekhmet up and let her know he needed someone else to carry her for a bit. He healed her where the rope had rubbed her a little raw and suggested Nathaniel, but she asked for Fenris. Anders grit his teeth but did as she bid, turning her over to Fenris. The elf assured Anders he would look after her, but it didn’t soothe Anders’ anxiety. And, neither did the fact that Sekhmet was asleep again almost before he had her settled on Fenris’ back.

Yes, she was exhausted and needed to rest, but Anders would have felt a little better if she’d been at least a little apprehensive about being carried by someone else. Fenris seemed to sense Anders’ unease and kept pace with him, making sure Anders was never more than a few steps away from him. It was both a blessing and a curse. Anders didn’t want to be near Fenris, but appreciated being able to keep such a close eye on Sekhmet. 

For Maker’s sake, he was going to be at a complete loss now with Fenris. The elf’s compassion was starting to wear on Anders. It was hard to despise someone when they were working so hard to make your life easier. But, how long would it last? Anders knew neither of them were going to stop resenting each other, which made Fenris’ behavior all the more difficult to cope with now. 

When Sekhmet was transferred to Nathaniel Anders healed her again and she stayed awake for a few minutes clearly fighting her fatigue. Nathaniel dropped back, letting Anders lead while he carried her. So, Anders couldn’t hear what Nathaniel said to Sekhmet, but she laughed weakly and a few minutes later he felt the change in their connection telling him she was asleep again. 

When they stopped for the night Sekhmet didn’t even wake up as they took her carefully out of the harness nor as he healed her. Anders let her sleep while dinner was cooked, but woke her up to eat. Everyone sat around silently eating. Once they finished their dinner they quickly set up a watch and then went to sleep. Everyone was anxious to get going again in the morning.

Anders laid down with Sekhmet, curling around her and feeling tension start to ease throughout his body. He never imagined entrusting her to others for even a short time would be so hard. He could always just cast a few spells to keep himself going while he carried her, but other than his unease there was no point to wasting the magic. He clutched her more tightly and drifted off, they’d pushed today and he was tired.

********

Bethany has assumed Anders would relax as the days passed, but instead he became more anxious and more miserable. Each time he handed Sekhmet over to someone else he devolved a little more. In truth, she was starting to worry that they might see Justice raise his angry head before they’d clear the Deep Roads.

Sekhmet had promised her they had nothing to fear from Justice, but Beth wasn’t so sure it was true. Her sister didn’t have the best judgment when it came to the spirit. And, even if that had been true, did it still hold now, after Sekhmet had lost the child?

Sekhmet lifted her head weakly from Fenris’ shoulder at the same time Anders and Nathaniel both stopped. Was she missing something? Had they detected a danger she missed? She looked around, the others were just as confused.

“Fenris,” Anders barked, “give Sekhmet here.”

“I can protect her, Anders.” The elf sounded exasperated.

“Give her over to Anders now. Darkspawn are coming and we’re going to need your blade.” Nathaniel snapped.

Beth watched as Sekhmet was transferred to Anders’ back. Had Sekhmet somehow sensed the Darkspawn when even Beth couldn’t feel them yet? Her sister settled against Anders’ back and whispered in his ear.

He nodded, “Find something to cover your mouth and nose if you can. And, do your best not to get their blood in your eyes. Don’t forget it’s poisonous.“

Isabela removed the bandanna from her hair and covered her face, pulling out a leather thong to secure her hair back so it wouldn’t get in her eyes. Everyone except Beth, Anders, and Nathaniel pulled out various pieces of fabric to try to prevent them from ingesting any of the darkspawn blood, even Sebastian who still carried the baby’s corpse in one arm. 

When he realized he couldn’t tie the fabric one handed he dropped his pack to the floor and gently placed the child’s body on top of it. He quickly tied the cloth and took up his bow. Beth tried not to imagine him shooting them all in the back, but his behavior was only getting more strange and erratic as they neared the surface.

Varric began speaking with the man but Bethany missed what he said. She could feel the darkspawn now which meant they were close. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed a fairly small party of them. Certainly nothing like the one Anders had disposed of previously.

Before the first Darkspawn moved into sight Anders raised a shield around him and Sekhmet. His staff glowed brightly, the purple light illuminating the Deep Roads. Nathaniel moved close to him and nocked an arrow. 

Nathaniel’s eyes travelled to Beth and he nodded. She knew what he wanted so she fell in beside Anders. She wondered for a moment while they waited for the Darkspawn if Nathaniel expected her to give her life to protect Anders and Sekhmet if need be, especially now that he knew it wasn’t necessary. She looked at Sekhmet, breathing slowly, calmly as she nestled against Anders’ back. Could Bethany lay down her life for the two of them if it were ever necessary? 

Nathaniel loosing the first arrow tore her attention away and she began firing spells off at the Darkspawn, careful to not hit those traveling with them. They were all incredibly gifted fighters and the fight was short with no injuries other than a couple of scratches to their compatriots. 

Nathaniel attended to Fenris who had been nicked with a poisoned shriek blade. A quick antidote and some elfroot and Fenris waived him off. Nathaniel merely nodded and asked the group if they were ready to continue.

Anders wouldn’t relinquish Sekhmet and no one fought him too hard over it. They just got moving, steadily climbing up and out of the Deep Roads. 

Bethany fell into step beside Nathaniel. “Is my sister tainted?” 

Nathaniel shook his head, “I don’t detect anything.”

“I could have sworn she knew the Darkspawn were coming before I did.”

“I noticed her reaction. I cannot account for it. Anders says your sister is practically a mage, perhaps it is some sort of magic?” But, his brows furrowed.

“It’s no spell that I know. It does feel like there’s magic clinging to her. I’d assumed it was from Anders.” She watched them as they walked, curious now.

“You should ask them about it before we reach the surface. If it is a spell it could come in handy for our newer recruits.” He moved forward, ending the conversation.

Bethany waited until Sekhmet was asleep to approach Anders. “Did you cast some sort of spell on Sekhmet so she could detect Darkspawn?”

Anders looked startled, “No, why would I do that?”

“Because you were coming to the Deep Roads and you wanted her to be safe?” She wished he could relax, he was making her nervous.

“No, I don’t know a spell that can do that.” 

“I can feel magic on her, Anders, and she knew those darkspawn were coming.”

He slowed his steps letting Sebastian and Varric pass him. Beth slowed to match his steps. “She didn’t know darkspawn were coming. She just knew I sensed danger.”

“How would she know that? You weren’t even carrying her.”

Anders sighed, “Look, this is hard to explain. There’s a connection between your sister and I.”

“You’re not about to get all esoteric on me, are you? I want a real explanation.”

“It’s a bond; I don’t know how to explain it. Something that is very rare. It lets us feel each other’s emotions. She knew I sensed danger and reacted, that’s all.”

“So, I take it this didn’t happen on purpose?”

“No, I didn’t even know anything like it existed. Listen, I can’t explain it to you down here, but I’ll do my best if you and Nathaniel stick around to the estate.”

“And, if we don’t?”

“We both know we can’t trust the Wardens not to read letters. You know how careful we both have to be. So, if you can’t stick around until the estate I’ll explain it the next time I see you. But, just know it doesn’t hurt either of us.“

She wanted to argue, but if the others didn’t know about the connection between Sekhmet and Anders she could only assume it was because Sekhmet wanted it that way. And, while she was curious Anders was also right about the Wardens. Maker only knew what they would do with the knowledge that mages could forge bonds between people. 

She nodded, “All right. How is she?”

“She’s a fighter. She’d be trying to walk on her own if we didn’t keep insisting on carrying her. She’ll be fine once she’s home and safe in her own bed.” 

“And you?”

“Tired, but I’ll be fine. The sooner we get back to the surface the better.”

Beth glanced to Sebastian still carrying his macabre bundle. She knew there wasn’t a chance Anders was actually all right, but if he wanted to pretend while they were still in the Deep Roads she wouldn’t argue. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Anders and chance angering Justice.

She watched Anders again, marching steadily forward, carefully never looking at Sebastian. She couldn’t help but wonder what Justice thought of it. Was he angry? Was he hurting? Did he even feel anything other than anger?

All she could remember of him was Anders glowing blue and Justice trying, and more often than not succeeding, to hurt people. Anders, for obvious reasons, never spoke about Justice in their letters and she’d never been brave enough to ask. He’d always just been a part of Anders she’d wanted to forget.

“What’s the matter?” Anders asked her softly.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you staring like that?”

She shrugged.

“Justice still makes you nervous?”

Beth laughed quietly, “After the display with that huge group of darkspawn he terrifies me.”

Anders nodded, “That’s probably wise, but I won’t let him hurt you.”

“You couldn’t stop him from hurting Sekhmet.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“You’re right, I couldn’t. I can assure you he wouldn’t hurt her now.”

“Why, because you love her?”

Anders snorted, “No, because he does.”

Bethany stopped moving, “What?”

Anders chuckled a little bitterly, “He loves her, or as close as he can get. He wouldn’t hurt her now.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw and Bethany realized there was more to the story. She thought about pushing him, but in the Deep Roads with Sekhmet so weak on his back was decidedly not the best time to question him about it. She knew how hard it was for Anders to be in the Deep Roads and he’d already experienced so much pain and loss down here she didn’t want to add to it.

Instead, they both started walking again and Bethany stayed quiet. Could a spirit love? Why did the spirit love Sekhmet, how? Did Anders know what he was talking about? Beth supposed her sister being loved by a spirit was better than repeatedly almost being killed by one. 

She was still thinking about Anders’ statements a few hours later when Nathaniel stopped them for the night. She helped set up camp and cook a meal even as she contemplated Anders’ words. Even as she drifted off to sleep she couldn’t get the idea of Justice loving Sekhmet out of her head.

********

It was the last good night of sleep she got on their way out of the Deep Roads. The next morning Sebastian was clutching the baby’s corpse and whispering prayers. He clearly hadn’t slept the night before.

All day he whispered prayers, rocking the stillborn back and forth in his arms as they marched out of the Deep Roads. Nathaniel pushed them all to the point of exhaustion every day trying to get them clear of the Deep Roads before the Chantry boy did something dangerous. None of them slept much, they were all too nervous about Sebastian.

Sekhmet tried to speak to him but it didn’t seem to help. His eyes were glazed and unfocused and he barely seemed to see her. Bethany noticed Sekhmet stopped just shy of touching him. Whether being touched might have torn him from wherever his mind had drifted or not was anyone’s guess, but Beth couldn’t blame her sister for not tempting fate.

Anders had stopped even trying to sleep. He curled around Sekhmet each night while she drifted off then sat up and cast a shield around her. Bethany wished she could believe he was being paranoid, but Sebastian made her too uneasy and the few times he did seem to notice what was going on around him he was giving withering looks to Anders.

Beth wondered if Sebastian blamed Anders for the child’s death for some reason. Was it possible he’d overheard how the child had been possessed? She’d thought that they’d been quiet enough not to be overheard, but Sebastian’s glares might indicate she was wrong.

Nathaniel had approached her a couple days ago asking her about any attachment she might have to Sebastian. She’d assured him she had none, barely knew him even. He’d nodded and just said, “Then you won’t hesitate,” and walked away.

She wouldn’t, the moment she saw Sebastian move against her sister; indeed against any of them she’d have no problem putting him down. He was no darkspawn, but he was no less of a threat to them. Sekhmet had called a halt to anyone hurting the man so far, but if he became violent Bethany could tell from looking at the others that not even Sekhmet’s warnings would stop them.

Sebastian was disposable to them. 

Bethany almost pitied the man. Did he realize that the only one fighting to protect him was Sekhmet? In his current state would he even care?

So, they watched Sebastian become more unhinged and made a mad dash for the surface on barely any sleep. Sekhmet did her best when she was awake to entreaty whoever was carrying her to be patient and understanding with Sebastian. He clearly meant a great deal to her for some reason. Bethany could not begin to imagine why.

But, they were all grateful when they finally escaped the oppressing gloom of the Deep Roads. Sebastian blinked as he stumbled into the light as if the sun had suddenly awoken him from his stupor. He stopped and looked at his surroundings in confusion.

Varric stretched languorously and grinned broadly, “Has sunlight ever felt so good?”

The others all looked relieved, but it was Anders whose reaction was the most dramatic. With Sekhmet still on his back he dropped to his knees in the brightest patch of sunlight and openly wept. He didn’t utter a word just wept with the most fervent look of gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no artistic talent whatsoever but sometimes I make pictures with XNALara to go with this story. If you're interested you can find them [here](http://melpomenetears1.deviantart.com/gallery/43082601)


End file.
